Some whisper of fury threatened to surface at the feel of her sister’s feathers drifting around her face; the calm logic that Sorcha embodied was only challenged by the presence of the strongest Dark Court faeries. Neither Summer nor Winter faeries could provoke her. The solitaries couldn’t ripple the calm pool that rested in her spirit. Only the Dark Court made her want to forget herself.

It’s logical. It’s the nature of opposition. It makes perfect sense.

Bananach rubbed her cheek against Sorcha’s.

The High Queen wanted to strike the war-faery. Logic said Bananach would win; she was violence incarnate. Few if any faeries could outlast her in direct battle—and the Queen of Order was not one of them. Yet, in that moment, the temptation to try grew strong.

Just one strike. Something.

The skin of her arms had begun to sting from so many small wounds when Bananach tilted her head in another series of short jerky moves. The feathers seemed to whisper as Bananach pulled back and said, “I tire of seeing you.”

“And I you.” Sorcha didn’t move to stanch the blood that trickled to the floor. Movement would lead to pitting her strength against Bananach or angering her further. Either would result in more injuries.

“True war comes,” Bananach said. Smoke and haze filtered into the room. Half-shadowed figures of faeries and mortals reached out bloodied hands. The sky grew thick with illusory ravens’ wings, rustling like dry corn husks. Bananach smiled. The not-yet-there shape of wings unfolded from her spine. Those wings had spread over battlefields in centuries past; to see them so clearly outside a battlefield did not bode well.

Bananach stretched her shadow-wings as she said, “I follow the rules. I give you warning. Plagues, blood, and cinders will cover their world and yours.”

Sorcha kept her face expressionless, but she saw the threads of possible futures as well. Her sister’s predictions were more probable than not. “I’ll not let you have that sort of war. Not now. Not ever.”

“Really?” Bananach’s shadow spread like a dark stain on the floor. “Well, then…it’s your move, sister mine.”

Chapter 2

Seth watched Aislinn argue with the court’s advisors, far more vocal with the fey than she ever was with humans. On the table in front of them, Aislinn had the pages of her new plan, complete with charts, spread out.

When she sat in Keenan’s loft, with the tall plants and crowds of faeries overfilling the place, it was easy to forget that she hadn’t always been one of them. The plants leaned toward her, blooming in her presence. The birds that roosted in the columns greeted her when she walked into a room. Faeries vied for her attention, seeking a few moments in her presence. After centuries without strength, the Summer Court was beginning to thrive—because of Aislinn. At first, she had seemed uncomfortable with being in the center of it, but she’d grown so at ease with her position that Seth wondered how long it’d be until she abandoned the mortal world, including him.

“If we assign different regions like this—” She pointed to her diagram again, but Quinn excused himself, leaving Tavish to explain once more why he thought her plan was unnecessary.

Quinn, the advisor who’d replaced Niall recently, plopped down on the sofa next to Seth. He was as unlike Niall in appearance as he was in temperament. Where Niall had highlighted his almost common features, Quinn seemed to strive for some degree of polish and posturing. He kept his hair sun-streaked, his skin tanned, his clothes hinting at wealth. More important, though, where Niall had been a voice that could pull Keenan from his melancholia or dissipate the Summer King’s temper, Quinn seemed to fuel Keenan’s mood of the moment.That made Seth leery of the new guard.

Quinn scowled. “She’s being unreasonable. The king can’t expect us to—”

Seth simply looked at him.

“What?”

“You think Keenan’s going to tell herno ? To anything?” Seth almost laughed aloud at the idea.

Quinn looked affronted. “Of course.”

“Wrong.” Seth watched his girlfriend, the queen of the Summer Court, glow like small suns were trapped inside her skin. “You have a lot to learn. Unless Ash changes her mind, Keenan will give her plan a try.”

“But the court has always been run like this,” Tavish, the court’s oldest advisor, was repeating yet again.

“The court has also always been ruled by a monarch, hasn’t it? It still is. You don’tneed to agree, but I’m asking for your support.” Aislinn flicked her hair over her shoulder. It was still as black as Seth’s, just as it had been when she was a human, but now that she’d become one of them, her hair had golden streaks in it.

Tavish raised his voice, a habit he’d apparently not been prone to before Aislinn joined the court. “My Queen, surely—”

“Don’t ‘my Queen’ me, Tavish.” She poked him in the shoulder. Tiny sparks flickered from her skin.

“I don’t mean to offend you, but the idea of local rulers seems foolish.” Tavish smiled placatingly.

Aislinn’s temper sent rainbows flashing across the room. “Foolish? Structuring our court so our faeries are safe and have access to help when they need us is foolish? We have a responsibility to take care of our court. How are we to do that if we don’t have contact with them?”

But Tavish didn’t back down. “Such a major change…”

Seth tuned them out. He’d hear Aislinn recount it all later when she tried to make sense of it.No need to hear it twice. He picked up a remote and flicked through the music. Someone had added the Living Zombies song he’d mentioned the other week. He selected it and turned the volume up.

Tavish had a please-help-me look on his face. Seth ignored it, but Quinn didn’t. Grumbling, but eager to prove his worth, the new advisor went back over to the table.