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She poured us cups anyway, doctoring them with honey, milk, and a touch of something from a small vial.

“Are you poisoning me, sister?” I inquired.

She snorted, her lips quirking in a smile. “As if.”

“Do I want to know what this is?”

“My blessing, of course.”

I jolted and stared at her. Of course she knew. It wasn’t as if I could hide anything from her. But her blessing? “Why?”

“I didn’t say I agree, brother.” She slid the teacup toward me. “But my blessing... that I freely give.”

I looked down at the tea. Warmth rose from the surface, carrying notes of honey and something older. Something that hummed against my senses like a distant bell.

Her blessing.

I lifted the cup and drank.

The warmth spread through my chest, deep and familiar, like standing before a hearth in winter. But beneath it, a sting. Sharp. Precise. A needle of light threading through muscle and bone. The ache dug deep, as though adding a root of something within my soul.

I set the cup down and met her gaze unwilling to back down from her challenge.

She folded her arms across her chest and looked at me with sadness. Her warm brown eyes reflected a rainbow glow in the dim lighting—a shifting of colors, like a sign at the crossroads.

Angel had been tricked as a youth into making a bargain he couldn’t foresee the consequences of. The fae were nothing if not wily. And while I may be one of the oldest tricksters remaining in the universe, I wasn’t without my own pawns.

“You think doing this will keep them away?”

“It won’t be the first time I’ve thwarted fate.”

“And the fae?”

“The fae wanted a soldier. I’m giving them one. Nothing more, nothing less.”

She sighed, and looked sad. “Why isn’t it ever about what you want?”

Because my wants didn’t matter. I had a thousand lifetimes of proof.

She put her hand over mine. “Why must you always choose the most difficult path?”

“If you think fate’s direction comes with ease, you haven’t been paying attention,” I said. “Not even the gods are immune to its strife.”

“And if this bargain becomes a blade that cuts both ways?”

“Then I’ll bleed for it.” Honestly, I expected to.

Gwen studied me for a long moment, then withdrew her hand. The warmth lingered. So did the sting.

“I won’t stop you,” she said quietly. “But that bond you’re trying to ignore? To him? All your sacrifices will look exactly like what they are.”

“And what’s that?”

“Loneliness dressed up as duty.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but she was already gone, vanished into the shadows, leaving me alone with her words and the fading sting beneath my ribs.

I sat at my desk, glaring at the door for a long minute. Then I snarled at myself to get up and just do it already.