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“I don’t suppose you want to share further details with me?”

“Not yet.”

“Fine. Then thank you in advance.”

She responded with a soft chuckle. “Always, darling king. I will say there is an interesting development drawing my attention to the north of this world.”

“What sort of development?”

“Fascinating. In the Hinterlands.”

Why there? “You can’t tell me more?”

“As soon as I have answers, I will be transparent with you.”

The deity fell silent, leaving me tangled in concern for Paris and for what Caer might be hiding. Which seemed so absurd considering how far she’d brought us, and the fact that her bond to Paris restored so many of my memories and his. Her song, her magic, were key weapons in the fight against Aidan. If it wasn’t for her, we’d have nothing. We’d still be steeped in Aidan’s lies, and Paris and I would still be at the palace hating each other.

Maybe. I wasn’t sure.

I rolled onto my side, my mind overfull.

Paris…

My pining for the elf got to me. Whatever epiphanies I experienced, it didn’t change my feelings for him. It hurt, it enchanted, and I wanted him here.

“I want to hear you sleeping beside me,” I whispered. “I miss you.”

You’re such a fool.

It took me an hour to doze off to sleep.

Two hours after that, Layla’s holiday home was on fire.

Chapter Eighteen

Paris

Iwoke up a couple of hours later, my head pounding and my throat as dry as a sandbox.

Fuck. Nothing like a broken sleep to bring on the grogginess.

Rubbing at my head, flinching with each throb of pain, I got off the bed in search of water.

My hand paused on the door handle at the sound of a voice mumbling through the floorboards.

Declan?

Possibly not. Could be Aidan showing up, having killed the alpha and now mumbling over his corpse while waiting for me to come charging downstairs.

If that was his plan, it worked. The crystal dagger puffed to life in my hand as I charged down the stairs, clearing them two at a time. I burst into the kitchen to find Declan there wearing shorts and a vest, sitting at a small round table.

He jumped to his feet. “What happened?”

I froze, taking a moment to come to my senses. He was alone, a notepad on the pine table with a pen, and a cup of steaming black coffee beside it.

“What…” I licked my lips. “I heard a voice.”

He scratched at his huge left bicep. “Sorry. That was me making notes. I think out loud. Loudly.”