Chapter 12

"I'm sorry, what?" Alex couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"I am here to inspect his…prize." He narrowed his eyes at her. "Valroy tells me that the duke has given you his heart."

"That's been the topic of conversation lately, yeah." She shook her head. "But back up. You're his father? I thought—he keeps calling you Uncle."

"To annoy me, which he enjoys. He needs no more inspiration to do anything save for whatever brings him amusement." Lip curling in a moment of disgust, he took another gulp from the bottle of wine. "As I am sure you have discovered for yourself."

"Yeah. That puts it lightly." She frowned. "Why hasn't he ever brought it up?"

"We do not raise our children the way you humans do. It is hardly a matter for much thought. And he prides himself on…well, himself." Anfar lifted a single shoulder in a dismissive shrug.

"If it isn't ‘a matter for much thought,' then why are you here?" Wine wasn't going to be strong enough for this conversation, she could tell already. Pushing up from the chair, she headed over to Izael's bar. She made it exactly halfway there before she jerked to a sudden stop. It took her a second to realize why.

That fucking chain. It was invisible and she hadn't even noticed its presence—right until it wanted to make itself known. Like it came out of nowhere, it was tethering her to the tree in the center of Izael's home.

With a heavy sigh, she shut her eyes and fought the urge to scream.

"Here."

Turning back to Anfar, she watched as he pulled an old-fashioned glass bottle from thin air and placed it on the table in front of her plate.

It was her turn to shrug. Heading back to the table, she sat and picked up the bottle. The glass was too dark to see the color of the liquid inside. Uncorking it, she sniffed the substance and winced as it stung her eyes. "What is this?"

"Stronger."

He wasn't a talkative man. Monster. Fae. Sea-beast. Thing. Whatever. But she wasn't about to turn up her nose at a bottle of mystery alcohol. It was alcohol. Picking up an empty wine glass from the table, she poured some of the vaguely-amber liquid into a glass and sipped it.

"Fuck, it burns." Coughing, she blinked as she teared up from the sear of the fae moonshine ran down her throat. After a breath, she took another sip.

Anfar smiled. Briefly. And it was small. But it was there, and she'd take it.

"So, who's his mom?" Each consecutive sip of the booze burned less than the previous one. It tasted something like scotch, she decided. Peaty and earthy. It wasn't bad, it was just a bit much. She'd have to take it slow.

"An ancient spirit from Patala, daughter to the Nagaraja." At her blank expression, he sighed. "I met her in India. I was chasing a merchant ship. Our foray was brief, but apparently…effective. When I next returned to the mortal plane, I was presented with Izael, fully grown. He was raising chaos among the others in Patala. I was told to ‘take him home.' And so, I did."

"Huh." She blinked. "So, he's not fully fae?"

"He is. Our blood is dominant. One does not find half-breeds between our kind and others. You are either of us or you are not." Anfar finished the bottle of wine and poured himself a glass of the substance he'd given her. That was fine. She'd probably die if she drank the whole thing on her own.

"I'd say that was probably why he was causing chaos, but…we've both met him. Dude could cause chaos at a meditation seminar." Whatever that meant. Screw it. She was tired, stressed, sore, and there was booze.

There was that faint, short-lived smile again. "Indeed."

"Did Valroy tell you the rest of the bullshit I'm dealing with?"

"He did."

After waiting a few seconds for him to say anything else, she shook her head. "Like what? There are layers, and you people like to play games within games."

"That he must convince you to use your wish to love him before the end of the third day forward, or else his soul will belong to you." There was no smile on his face that time.

"Ah." Putting down her glass of booze, she met those all-black eyes of his. It was like sitting across the table from the ghost of Christmas future. The dude was creepy. "That's why you're here."

"I am merely here to judge the odds of such a thing coming to pass." He didn't even fidget. Or move, really. He just sat there, perfectly still, and stared.

"And then what?"

"It is not worth discussing. I pose you no danger, if that is your concern."

"It'd crossed my mind." She sipped the booze again. Now that she was used to the searing pain, it was actually kind of tasty. "Seeing as everybody here wants to either fuck me, kill me, or both." She paused. "Mostly both."

That actually earned her a laugh. "I see what he likes in you. You have a sharp wit."

And I'm willing to let him shove both his dicks in my— "I appreciate that." Every now and then she still had to fight the urge to say "thanks," but she was getting used to it. The last thing she needed was to be stuck in some sort of debtor situation to Izael's leviathan dad.

"Valroy did not wish to see me, you lying sack of rotten seaweed—" Izael appeared out of a swirl of dark smoke, lips curled back as he bared his teeth at a very unfazed Anfar.

"I desired a moment alone with your human." Anfar stood, clearly in no rush. He turned his attention back to Alex. "Keep the bottle."

Lifting her glass in a half-toast to him, she smirked at the monster. "Nice to meet you."

"And you."

Izael pointed to the woods. "Go away, Uncle."

Anfar walked toward the edge of Izael's home, as an inky black pool of water appeared from nowhere. He stepped into it, disappearing below the ground. The pond disappeared a moment later, as if evaporating into the air.

"He told me the truth." She sipped the booze.

Slumping down in his chair, Izael's expression was a mix of frustration and a strange kind of sadness. "My dinner is cold."

"Can't you use magic to reheat it?"

"That isn't the point." His hands tightened into fists as he clearly struggled to hold back his anger. "My father finally decides he wishes to meddle in my life. Pardon me if I find this exceedingly annoying."

"I don't like my parents either, if it makes you feel any better. And the feeling is mutual. At least Anfar wants to know what I'll do with your soul when I wind up with it."

When he looked up at her, quizzical at her certainty, she grinned at him. With a huff, he reached out and grabbed the bottle Anfar had left behind and poured himself a drink. "You're attempting to cheer me up."

Was she? Huh. She was. She shrugged. "I don't hate you, Izael."

"But you don't love me."

Shutting her eyes, she felt her mood instantly drop. "I don't know, Izael. I really don't know if I do or not."

"How is that possible? How can you not know?" Izael threw his hands in the air in frustration. "It is all you humans care about! Every story you tell, every myth you hold dear, is all about love."

"Because it's not about me! None of this is about me or my feelings. It's about Valroy and this fucking war he wants to wage, and it's about you wanting—" She stopped herself. There was no point in being needlessly cruel.

But it was too late. Izael watched her, sea green eyes cool. "Say it."

"It's about you wanting to be loved. It isn't you wanting me to love you. I'm just the one you picked." Her jaw ticked. Man, that moonshine was strong. She hadn't wanted to say that. She didn't even realize that was how she felt until it fell out of her face.

"Do you honestly believe that is true?"

Did she? Did she really? Or was she using it as an excuse? Putting her head in her hand, she let out a shuddering breath. "I don't know, Izael. I just don't. I haven't had the chance to breathe."

"You wouldn't have said it if some part of you didn't believe it." Pulling her hand away from her face, Izael stood and tugged her up to her feet in front of him. Before she could react, he had her face cradled in his hands. "You think my love for you isn't real."

"I—" I think you believe you love me. But you're also insane. And lonely.

"If you say I don't know, I'll slap you." He narrowed his eyes. "I get to choose where."

That made her laugh. Taking his hands, she lowered them but didn't let go. It was one thing to have sex with him. It was another thing to…let him in. She'd spent so long keeping people out to protect herself. "Can we…look, I know the rules, Tir n'Aill by night, Earth by day, but can we go there to talk? The trees have ears."

"Only if you order more Chinese food."

Laughing, she rested her forehead against his chest. He reached up to stroke her hair. "Deal."

Alex managedto find the one place in town that was still open at one in the morning, and she apologized over the phone for all the work she was giving them at the last possible second. But she tipped them a few hundred dollars—which felt wild, given her recent money issues—and they seemed more than happy to oblige.

It should've fed an entire basketball team. Instead, it fed one ravenous fae, herself, and a few bits of pork spareribs to Pumpkin, because he wouldn't take "no" for an answer.

Sitting on the sofa, legs folded in front of her, she watched as Izael ate the chicken wings, bones and all. Where it'd horrified her the first time she saw it, now it didn't seem like that big of a deal. She'd seen much worse in the past week or so.

The human mind was weirdly adaptable when it came down to it.

They ate in silence. Izael was clearly loving the food, but there was a crease between his brows that revealed he was troubled. She felt like an asshole for running her mouth, but here they were. And she really didn't want to talk about it. But she knew she didn't have a choice.

The bastard snake was going to wait for her to start. She fidgeted with the cuff of her oversized hoodie, picking at a loose piece of thread. She didn't care if the hoodie made her look like a shlub. It was comfortable, and right now that was all that mattered.

"Have you ever been in love before?" It was a good place for her to start.

"No." His answer came fast and unflinching. "Not once in my many hundreds of years. Not fae nor human." Fishing into the container of one of the many pu pu platters she had ordered, he pulled out another chicken wing and pulled it apart at the hinge.

"Why do you think that is?"

With a contemplative tilt of his head, he took a moment to answer. "Honestly? Nobody was worth my time."

Ego. Of course. She stabbed her fork into the container of fried rice she had been nursing before putting it down on the coffee table. "Nobody. Ever."

"Ever," he repeated. "Though there have been plenty who have told me they loved me over the years, if you think it comes from some soul-crushing loneliness." He wiggled his fingers in the air. "I had the opportunity."

She supposed that tracked. "And what happened to them?"

"The fae in question gave up and wandered off, heartbroken, and found another. Or didn't and either died lonely or still are. The humans?" With a faint, devious smile, he added, "I have a collection."

"A collection you want to add me to. Of souls trapped in baubles on your shelf, waiting for you to die before they can move on." Wrinkling her nose in disgust, she decided she was done with the food. More grease wasn't going to make the night any better. "And you're wondering why I don't want to let that happen."

"But if you loved me, you wouldn't care—and besides, it's not like they're aware of themselves." He huffed. "Do you think I have a bunch of silently screaming minds trapped in glass paperweights?"

"Frankly? Yeah. I do." Shooting him a look, she reached for her can of seltzer. She had opted for no more booze. The moonshine that Anfar had brought her was still keeping her well and truly buzzed. "You're Unseelie. That's exactly what you freaks do."

He opened his mouth to argue, paused, shut it, and hummed. "Fair."

"So, what it's like for them?"

"Don't know."

"You just said—" Slapping a hand over her eyes, she fought the urge to scream. "Izael."

"A soul isn't a mind. I assume they…feel like they're dreaming. Maybe they have snippets of awareness now and then, but perhaps like in a fever. They have no body, no biological rhythms to give them a sense of time. They're dead."

"But they aren't gone."

"No." Those teal eyes watched her for a moment. "I will release them for you, if that's what you want. If it'll prove to you that I love you."

Blinking, she studied him in return. Proof. Was that what she was after? Now that he presented her with that, it felt wrong, somehow. Not releasing the trapped souls—that was a good thing without a doubt. But providing proof of his love just felt cold to her. And nigh impossible. "I don't want you to release them to prove anything. I want you to release them because it's horrifying that you have a collection people's souls being neglected."

"I'm not a monster!" He huffed in fake indignation. "I dust them regularly."

That made her laugh and she felt like an asshole because of it. She was laughing at the suffering of others.

I just wish?—

No. No! No, no, no. She slammed the door on that. She didn't even let herself finish the thought. Swallowing down whatever traitorous impulse was about to hit her, she blamed the moonshine.

"War. Death. Enslavement. That's the cost of us being together. How can I accept that you love me, how can I even try to consider how I feel about you, when that's what's at stake? I'm not even talking about myself—I'm talking about everybody. Every fae. Every human." Staring down at her can of seltzer, she spun it between her fingers. "If it were just me, that'd be one thing. Still horrifying and terrible. But it'd just be me."

"Which is why you have to use your wish to love me. Because then, all of what will come next, won't matter." He smiled, as if his statement were both extremely obvious, perfectly benign, and wonderfully helpful. It was none of those things.

"It's love, not brainwashing. Just because I'd be magically forced to love you doesn't mean I'd stop caring about the fallout. That's not how it works."

"Humans are so strange." He paused for a moment. "But I hate to break it to you, songbird—but it's too late. You can't not make a wish. We've gone too far already."

"Yeah. I can. That's the whole point of the game. You haven't won yet." She shot him another look. "Don't assume you will."

"We'll see. You really don't have any other choice."

"I do. If I don't make a wish, I win. And I can't make a wish with everything riding on it." That, she was certain of. The cost gave her no other choice.

"You are so wonderfully stubborn. I love it." Grinning, he sat back in his chair. "But don't you realize what's really happening?"

"I—" She blinked. "What?"

Laughing quietly, Izael stood from his chair, taking the box of chicken wings with him, and paced across the room. "I didn't want to point this out. I really didn't. But I believe in your conviction, so now I have no other choice. Why do you think I really agreed to bring you to the Hartsblood to give you fae magic?"

"It was because—" She stopped. And then swore. Loud enough to wake the cat.

Izael pointed at her. "There it is."

"You fucker."

He laughed louder. "Don't be such a sore loser!" His smile turned devilish. "You are so very cute when you're mad, though."

Her magic tied her to Tir n'Aill. One way or another. Even if she won the bet, she would be on Earth with fae magic. That meant that she would still be linked to them. "There've been humans with fae magic before, though, right?"

"Oh, absolutely. And do you know what happens to them when they die?" He walked back up to her languidly, before sitting beside her and draping an arm over her shoulders. "Their souls join the Hartsblood. That is, if they don't have anywhere better to go."

"You piece of shit!" Standing, she brushed his arm off and whirled to glower down at him. "Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you warn me? I never would have done it if I knew it—" Stopping, she placed her hands over her eyes. "I'm so stupid."

"If you knew it had a cost? Everything has a cost, songbird. Especially in the world of the fae. You never asked."

"Fuck. Fuck." It also meant her power was derived from souls. Soylent Magic is people.

"So, you might as well wish to love me and give me your soul, unless you want to go exist with your individuality stripped away." He put his feet on the coffee table and crossed his legs at the ankles, arms draped now over the back of the sofa. "Better to be mine than nothing at all. And if you think the others will leave you alone—you, a human, with the power to unleash chaos? You're wrong. Valroy would come for you. And if not him, Abigail. And if not them, any other Duke or Earl or Countess with a hunger for power. With me, you are protected. You are loved. You are cherished. With them…? Well, all bets are off." His smile was victorious. "Accept it. You've lost."

"Every time I think you've hit rock bottom you go and somehow manage to make it worse." Turning, she stormed toward the bedroom. She needed to take a long shower and think.

"So…sex is out?"

Her answer to him was a slam of the bedroom door hard enough a painting fell off the wall in the hallway. She couldn't have cared less.

Every time. Every fucking time she was about to trust him—about to feel bad for how she was treating him—he reminded her how stupid she had been to get into this mess in the first place.

Slumping down on the edge of the bed, she put her head in her hands.

What am I going to do?

She had lost.

The game was over.

Now, she simply had to decide how she wanted to surrender.