Episode Seventy-Seven

NO QUESTIONS ASKED

brAN

When Baspin suggests Jessie reclaim her throne as heir apparent to the Winter Court, it's painfully obvious just how distracted I've been.

Not for one second did I entertain the idea that Jessie might take back her court.

I was more focused on keeping her alive and saving my brother.

And keeping my little mouse all to myself.

How fucking oblivious I've been.

And maybe a little bit of a selfish prick, too.

I know how war works and there are always two sides, always people who rally around whoever they think can win so they can suck off whatever power they can in the war or the victory after.

Baspin is no different.

Hell, Damien and I have done the same over the centuries, aligning ourselves with this house or that, elevating ourselves until we no longer had to worry about our own sovereignty.

I can't really blame Baspin, but I am suspicious of him.

"You're suggesting that once we rescue Jessie, we fight."

It's not a question. And he doesn't deny the truth of it. He can't.

"She's not ready," I admit.

"She can be," he answers. "With the right teacher."

"Are you suggesting you're the teacher?" Damien asks. "You beg for a title and yet think you're capable enough to teach a Winter Court princess how to use the power of her birthright?"

Baspin smiles at my brother, like he's been waiting for this challenge for hours, days, maybe months.

"I have no title, true, but I did serve in the Winter Court."

"In what capacity?" I ask.

"I was the king's personal servant and when he needed to practice using his power, he used it on me. I know what it feels like. I can guide Jessie."

I glance at my brother. We immediately know what the other is thinking. We are no match for an Unseelie prince, or worse, a Seelie queen. There is no way to go back to how things were before. The gate has been opened and the fae have Jessie. The only way out of this is through.

"You must know we can't pay the price you're asking for," I tell Baspin. "I don't have the power to hand out fae titles."

He nods. "But you have the power to persuade the one who does."

It would be for her own good, I tell myself. If the cost of saving Jessie is a title to some low ranking fae, then the price is right.

"Fine." I come down the steps and offer Baspin my hand. "You take us to the fae realm. You help us rescue Jessie. Then and only then will we revisit the discussion of you getting a title of lord."

He considers this for a moment, then slips his hand into mine. I am far colder than he is, and I catch the faint tremor of his shoulders from the chill.

Just a little reminder that I too am powerful, that I am not one to fuck over.

I let my eyes bleed to gold as a final warning.

He tips his head in acknowledgment.

"Shall we leave now?" he asks. "We've no more time to waste."

Jimmy stays back to watch over Duval House with the witch by her side. Damien and I follow Baspin to the fae gate.

It's been a very long time since I've been to the field where the gate stands. There was never a point with it being sealed.

The door is now ajar with a trickle of light spilling out. Being that it's another realm, time moves differently there than it does here, and sometimes night is day and day is night in the fae realm. Luckily for vampires, sunlight in the fae realm doesn't have the same potency as the mortal.

When we walk through the doorway, however, it's immediately clear that something is different .

The air is thick and hot, almost insufferable, and the light is too. Baspin pauses on the other side of the threshold, a deep frown on his face.

"It's as I expected," he tells me over his shoulder. "With the Winter Court gone, the seasons are out of balance and Summer has taken over. They were always just too pompous to admit they needed the Unseelie, and the Winter."

Damien pulls a fern from the ground, examining the roots. Dirt cakes his fingers. He takes in a deep breath of the dark brown root system. "It's rotting." He tosses it aside. "And how do you suppose the Summer Court feels about it now?"

Baspin doesn't speculate. Instead he says, "We should hurry. Before the night grows older."

I can remember from past visits that fae palaces are always buzzing with activity. But when we approach the Summer Palace, it's exterior grounds are noticeably quiet. All sound can be traced to the interior, to the heart of the palace.

There are whispers between fae.

That's the Winter Princess.

The daughter of the traitor.

Shorter than I expected.

Prettier than I expected.

What an ugly princess. Rounded ears!

Why has the Summer Prince brought the likes of her here?

She should be put to death.

That last one has me pushing past Baspin down the domed hallway of the palace.

She's close. My little mouse is close and I won't stop until she's back in my arms and?—

There is a crowd gathered in the throne room. And over the assembled, I can just make out Jessie on a dais, a woman in front of her and another fae…on a knee?

The crowd is thicker the closer I get to the dais and I shove them back, knocking many to their asses, panic driving heat through my veins.

"Bran, wait!" Damien calls.

But I'm already through. I'm already at the steps up to the dais where Jessie is standing, stunned, with the fae on one knee and his words tumbling out with excitement and glee. "Jessie MacMahon, Princess of the Winter Court, will you take my hand in marriage and be my wife?"

The fuck?

I take the stairs two at a time and yank the dagger Damien retrieved for me from the hidden sheath at my hip.

The dagger is made of iron and it will kill any fae.

And I plan to kill this one. No questions asked.

I'm across the dais in half of a second, blade poised to plunge, my vision tunneling, my blood lust pounding in my chest, when a tiny hand catches me, fingers wrapped around my wrist, sending a jolt of warmth through my body.

"Don't," Mouse says, her voice low but insistent.

The rage is barely repressed. They thought they could steal my mouse and then arrange a marriage for her, to steal her throne too?

The pieces are starting to fit together. I may not be fae and I may give two fucking shits about this godawful place, but I can see the strategy in this.

Without the Winter Court, with the seasons out of balance, the magic of their land is choking on itself.

They need to unite the courts in order to restore the balance and they think a marriage between the Summer and Winter Court will solve the problem.

I can see the logic in the plan. I can even respect the tactic.

But it'll happen over my dead fucking body.

I'll gut every single fae in this room.

I'll tear off their fucking heads if?—

"No, Bran," Mouse says and gives me a shake of her head.

Trust me , she mouths, so only I can see the words, the way her full lips form the plea, the way her eyes squint, begging me for restraint.

Trust her? Giving her the lead is what got us here.

Does she know they need her? Does she know she has bargaining power? Does she know they're using her because of their own fucking mistakes?

Trust her?

Does she even know what the fuck she's doing?

"Mouse," I start, but she turns away from me and says to the queen and the fae on one knee, "I accept your proposal of marriage."