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After a few seconds, I realize I should reply. Running my fingers over his jawline, I ask carefully, “That’s… good, right? I mean… I didn’t know it would happen, so I couldn’t ask, and I know how you are about safe words and consent so I don’t want you⁠—”

He puts fingers against my lips, smiling. “It’s the best gift you could have ever given me. I still feel our family, and my childer… what few there are, like Louie. But that darkness… and the fear it kept in a tiny corner of my heart… is gone.”

I poke him in the ribs, making him flinch. “Does that mean you have to admit I’m more powerful than you now? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure that’s something you’ve been trying to do for a long enough time, that it would make me feel like an infant.”

Rolling us over, he pulls me with him until I’m tucked against his side. “It is,” he says, and for once there’s no sarcasm in his voice. “And I’ll admit that without a single reservation, Fiadh. I’ve long suspected you might be more powerful than any of us, and now it appears you’re also as old as two of us. No more baby of the family for you… I believe it’s the snakelet now.”

I nuzzle his jaw, a little dizzy from the blood loss and the aftershocks so I giggle at his joke. “I sort of feel like I could eat the entire world now. This plus the trial really took it out of me.”

“You can have it, if that’s what you choose. We have to confront the court, and I’m of the mind that you may have anything you want.”

“Anything?” I ask, trying to sound dangerous and mostly succeeding.

“Anything,” he reaffirms as he runs his thumb over the fresh glyphs on my arm. He traces one, and it lights up under his touch, sending a thrill straight to my gut. “I’ve never been branded by someone’s tattoos before. You’re full of surprises, my beautiful faerie witchling.”

I snort, shrugging a little. “I’ve never branded someone during sex, so we’re even, bloodsucker. And I have absolutely no idea what will come next now that this shit is free, you know?”

We lie there for a while as we think about that, just breathing in sync. Every few seconds, the glyphs on my skin flare and fade, and the runes on his body echo back in blue fire. It’s like we’re one circuit, current flowing between us in a closed loop, each pulse a little softer than the last.

Eventually, I drift, the exhaustion catching up to me. Before I go under, I feel him wrap his arms around me, locking us together.

This is what it means to belong, I think. This is what it means to be claimed, to claim in return.

Even if I end up hating every other second of this magical destiny bullshit, at least I’ll have this, and I’ll never let anyone take it from me.

* My blood song

Twenty-Nine

TIERNAN

We watch the aftermath of our epic tree battle in silence.

Dezi disappears into the moonlit haze with Fiadh flung over his shoulder, her new marks still glowing, their exit leaving a vacuum of energy that feels obscene after the Worldroot’s meltdown. The rest of us—me, Rev, and Khol—stand there like extras in a play nobody bothered to script the ending for.

That’s not true, of course, because Knuckles would never let that happen, but the thought amuses me.

Khol breaks first, as usual. “Did you see his face?” he says as he twists his face into a comic impression of a vampire snarl. “I thought the mosquito’s brain would pop if he didn’t bang her before sunrise.”

Still disheveled and bleeding from a split lip, Rev laughs. “I’d say he’s had that shit pent up for way more than a decade. I never thought I’d see the fancy pants take off running like that if it wasn’t a ‘dead family member’ type of emergency. He’s so fucking restrained, man.”

I shake my head, not bothering to hide my amusement. “Still waters run deep, gentlemen. Plus, I have to admit the new features are pretty hot. None of us are complaining about fangs, right? Vamps are even more intense about that kind of thing.”

Khol’s scales shimmer in the moonlight as he sighs. “So what now, fearless kitty? They obviously need a bit of time alone. It’s only fair if we give it to them.”

“Booze,” I say. “Several bottles and some goddamn food would be nice. We can’t really clean up in the room until they’re settled, so I vote we eat and get drunk.”

Only a safe amount of drunk, obviously, but a little pain relief would be nice.

I’m not used to being in the emotional epicenter—usually I’m on the perimeter as the guy you count on to notice everything the others miss. Now that the shitstorm’s over, I’m just trying to ignore the way my arm needs setting and the fresh blood running down the side of my ribs. But the two of them definitely need guidance, and if Knuckles and the bossy bloodsucker aren’t here, the universe can’t help but sub me in.

Revelin squints at the horizon, and then wipes the blood off his mouth. “We should grab her sword when we head inside. I’m sure she’d be upset if we didn’t.” He glances at my arm, then at Khol’s gored-up shoulder, and his cocky smile fades. “Though I think a bit of attention to the worst of our battle scars is necessary before we let Midnight folks see us.”

“Sit,” I tell them. “Before one of us actually falls over. We can use Rev’s magic and whatever materials we have available here to do the basic shit. That way, we’re not nearly as weak-looking when we walk into the castle.”

The silver grass is cold as a morgue, but better than nothing. I ease down and set the injured arm across my lap, careful not to poke myself with Fiadh’s sword. She dropped it in the grass when the vampire hoisted her up, and it’s been there ever since. I wipe the blade clean on my shirt and lay it in front of me, just in case another monster shows up.

Khol plops down with a heavy thump, clutching his shoulder as he hisses under his breath. The wound is already turning black and blue at the edges where the ghost thing sliced him. He digs a finger in, pops something loose—a buried fragment of obsidian—and flicks it away with a grimace. “Fucking Fae,” he says. “Why can’t any of them just talk about their problems like normal assholes?”