Chapter 14

"You want me…to do what?" Izael was staring at Alex like she was the one who was insane. Alex didn't blame him. From his point of view, she might as well be. And honestly? From her point of view, too.

"If I give up my magic, then Valroy can't use me to wage his wars." She stirred the cream into her coffee, her spoon rattling against the sides of her mug as she did. It was actually mid-afternoon, and usually far past the point she'd let herself drink coffee, but whatever. Her sleep schedule was all screwed up. It wasn't going to get any better for a while, she figured. Either when she was his pet human or when she was dead.

"Yes, but—" Izael grimaced. He was pacing in front of her, his brow knitted in concern. "Valroy will be furious if he finds out you are nothing more than a powerless mortal again."

"Well, it's not my fucking fault that he knows about my magic, is it?" She shot him a glare. "That was your brilliant idea, not mine."

"I am aware. But I was trying to find us a way out of this mess." Izael threw up his hands in frustration.

"A mess you created."

"Yes, I know."

"A mess you keep making worse."

"Yes, I know."

"A mess you?—"

"I get it!" He threw himself down onto the sofa, looking like a period painting of a woman on a fainting couch. "But you do not understand what Valroy is capable of. He won't care about the rules. Normally, when a fae takes a human's soul, they become protected property, even from other members of the court. But in this instance? He'll murder us both."

"Do you know that for certain?"

He was silent for a beat. "I have my suspicions."

Izael knew something he wasn't telling her. Fae and their goddamn games. "Who told you that was going to happen?"

"A little manic birdy told me."

"Puck." She shut her eyes and hung her head in exhaustion for a moment. "Great. And how does he know?"

"He travels through more than just space. He can travel through time." Izael waved a hand dismissively like he was shooing away a fly. "It's complicated, so don't ask me to explain it."

Wonderful. That was just wonderful. Her irritation faded with the cold realization that she was going to die. She pulled a stool over and sat on it, staring down into her mug of coffee, watching the surface swirl with the remaining force of her stirring.

At her silence, Izael raised his head to look at her. "What's wrong?"

"I'm going to die."

"We both are, if you weren't paying attention." He flopped his head back down on the pillow.

"I just need a moment to process the fact that I'm going to die, Izael. Sorry." Rolling her eyes, she sipped her coffee. It was still a little too hot to drink, but she needed the comfort and familiarity of it. She was going to die.

The knowledge came with a strange sense of calm. That was it. That was going to be the end of it. The end of her. The end of all this nonsense. She wasn't afraid, not really—there wasn't a point in it.

But the thought put a rock in her throat and made her eyes sting. She didn't want to die. She really, really didn't. "It's still our best option."

"In what way? We're both going to die. That makes it the worst possible option, songbird."

"By the numbers, it's the best. We'll die, but nobody else will. Two versus thousands. Millions, even."

"Right, but I'm very attached to the two in question. We aren't doing this. It's suicide. There must be another way. Something that bastard half-breed hasn't seen." Izael threw his arm over his eyes to blot out the light, looking more and more like a renaissance painting by the minute.

"What if I try to kill Valroy? I can—like—I don't know—turn him into a newt or something." She tried to smile at her bad reference, but it didn't stick. It faded the second it was there.

"You'd have to destroy the whole Maze of Shadows. He isn't really what you see walking around. You could kill the projection, but he'd just come back a few minutes later. Trust me. People have tried. And even if you try to kill the Maze, I don't know how you'd succeed." Izael let out a breath.

"Well. If we're both going to die anyway, what's the harm in trying?"

"Because if we fail, Valroy will make our deaths extremely slow and painful? And do you really want to make an enemy of Abigail after you try to explode her husband? What, do you plan on rearranging her, too?" Izael placed both hands over his eyes, their heels to his cheekbones.

Stirring her coffee again, she thought it over. "I refuse to let him use my magic to wage his war. That's out. If giving up my magic means we both die, I'm fine with that—but you're not. So that's out if we're doing this together. Which only means…going out in a blaze of glory. We stop Valroy or we die trying."

"Most certainly the latter."

"Would you rather die fighting, or not?"

"I'd very much rather not die at all!" Izael sat up, clearly too anxious to stay still. He got up to begin pacing again.

"I don't see another choice, Iz." With a blink, she realized she had called him a nickname. She hadn't done that in what felt like years, even though it'd only been a handful of days.

A sudden clarity hit her like the ringing of a bell.

He mattered to her. Deeply. The mix of emotions swirling about in her heart like her coffee was more confusing than not, but the reality of that much was true. She didn't want anything bad to happen to him. She cared. And more than that, she…didn't want him to be her enemy. This was how she wanted to be with him—okay, suicidal conversations about how they wanted to die notwithstanding—she wanted to be working with him. Not against him.

Izael walked up to her slowly, before turning her to face him and pulling her into an embrace. She sank against him, shutting her eyes, resting her head against his chest. He smelled like cologne, and the sharpness of a walk in the winter woods, with only a hint of grass.

Kissing the top of her head, he stroked her hair. "I love you, my songbird. I will burn down the world if it means I get one more moment to share with you."

That almost sent her crying again, but she bit it back. She hated crying more than anything else in the world—well, okay, it was still second to throwing up, but that wasn't the point. Sniffling, she wrapped her arms around him and held him tighter. "I don't want us to die."

"In that, we are agreed."

"But I don't know what else to do." Lifting her head, she wiped her eyes. Goddamn tears. "If I give up my magic to Abigail, we know we both die. If we try to take out Valroy, we…might have a chance."

"What is the human phrase about a snowball?" Izael huffed.

The sad chuckle she let out ended with a sigh. "Yeah. Snowball's chance in Hell. But it's still a chance. What about Anfar? Would he help us? Or Bayodan and Cruinn?"

Izael grimaced. "No. They have stood against his wrath before. Anfar was spared, but you have seen the cost upon Bayodan and Cruinn. And they only survived at all because Valroy's new wife was so terribly fond of them both. We are under no such protection."

That made sense. "So, we're alone."

"No." He tilted her head to look up at him with the press of a crooked finger beneath her chin. "We have each other." Leaning down, he kissed her, claiming her lips with his own.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she went on her tiptoes to try to even their height. Izael had a better idea, picking her up by the waist and sitting her down on the countertop. He still had an inch of height on her, but it eased the strain.

When he parted her knees to step between them, she didn't resist. They were going to die. They were going to die violently, no less. But for now—in this moment—they had each other.

Izael had a much different way of putting it. He broke his kiss, ghosting his lips over her cheek to whisper in her ear. "If I'm going to go along with this crazy plan of yours…I am going to spend the next two days having my fill of you, songbird—in every possible way you can imagine."

Her cheeks went warm as a shiver ran down her spine. She could imagine a lot of things. Especially after their last row. "I'll need to be able to walk." Her voice was breathy, desire instantly clouding her words.

"You'll be able to walk." His grin was devious. "If perhaps not in a straight line."

Alex went to reply—something snarky, probably—but she never had the opportunity. He picked her up without warning and threw her over his shoulder like she was a sack of potatoes. "Hey!"

One of his arms was banded over her thighs, keeping her still. The other, however, had instantly grabbed a globe of her ass and gave it a squeeze that was hard enough to make her pull in a hiss. "Shush."

Rolling her eyes, she went along for the ride. She knew better than to get between Izael and something he wanted. Even if that something was her.

Not like she was really going to complain.

Izael preferredto fuck on his sea of pillows, but he understood the allure of human beds. They were springy and soft in a way that pillows were not. In fact, they were positively bouncy, which at least gave him the proper leverage.

He threw Alex down onto the bed, chuckling at the glare she shot him as she landed. "I will do you the favor of staying in my human form. I'd hate to run you too ragged."

She didn't argue as he pulled off her clothing, tossing it aside, before letting her strip him of his. He enjoyed watching her hands roam his body, tracing over whatever new configuration his tattoos had decided to take that day. If he focused on them, he could control their shape—but most of the time, they freely did whatever his subconscious felt like summoning.

Climbing on top of her, he captured her lips with his. By the Morrigan, she was intoxicating. He would never tire of how she felt against him—how she felt around him as he wasted no time to get to what they both wanted. Both needed.

She moaned and wrapped her legs around his waist as he kept his weight on his knees to better his leverage. This wasn't about destroying her—taking her—claiming her. This was passion. But this was something else.

This was about them. About the itch he felt in his soul that went far deeper than lust. She wanted to take on Valroy. It amounted to certain death. But she wanted to do it together with him. That made something in his soul soar in a way that simple rutting could not touch.

His songbird did not love him. But the simple fact that she wanted to fight beside him, die beside him—that was enough. And soon, when she used her wish to seal her heart to his, he could die content.

But for now, they were together.

When their dance reached its peak, she muffled her cry of release against his lips, seeking a kiss of her own volition. She clung to him in desperation as he joined her in ecstasy, the sensation of her body locking down around him in bliss too much for him to withstand.

Collapsing atop her, he was careful not to crush her with his weight.

Soon, they would die.

Death would claim two souls that were loved.

How many in the world were not so lucky?

It was amusingto Alex that what she once considered a bout of raucous sex was now, honestly, mundane. Not that it wasn't good—it was. It really, really was. But the fact that she hadn't been bent into strange shapes, given bruises, or, y'know, the whole snake thing—made what would have been a momentous occasion seem like the new baseline.

Not that baselines weren't entirely worth their while. It meant she was conscious and could walk herself to the shower. She could bathe without limping or making a sound when she bent over to pick up the shampoo from the edge of the tub. Small favors.

Izael joined her and managed to keep his hands to himself. Mostly. They didn't talk as they climbed back into bed, curling up against each other. He was lying on his back, and her head was against his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

He stroked his hand through her damp hair. They stayed like that for minutes before he spoke. "I would like to go back to that jazz club before we commit suicide-by-Valroy."

"That's fair."

"Is this what love is?" He furrowed his brow as he stared up at the ceiling. "I could live without you. Or I could die with you. And the former seems like a far worse fate than the latter."

"Yeah, love can do that to you." She pushed herself up on her elbows and watched him.

"I hate it." The frown on his face was comical. It was almost childish. "It's stupid. And very unlike me."

"I'd say you'd get used to it, but I'm not sure we'll have the time." Now her own mood was joining his in the gutter. "I'm sorry. I don't know what else to do."

Izael shut his eyes. "Tomorrow, we will spend the day here on Earth. We will go to the club, and you will finally sing for me. We will return to Tir n'Aill once the night is well and truly upon us, and…I will take you to the Maze. You shall use your wish to love me, and your soul will become mine. Then…we shall see how powerful you truly are."

She had one day to live. It was technically cutting their timeline a day short, but she didn't really want to linger, either. She figured it was like going in for major surgery—sometimes the wait was worse than the moment itself. "What if Valroy just captures me instead of kills me? We can't guarantee he'll be so pissed he takes me out instead."

"If I own your soul, I can stop your heart. I will make sure you do not live long enough to become his weapon."

"Wait—you what?" Gritting her teeth, she slapped his chest with her hand with a crack.

"Ow!" He rubbed his chest where she'd struck him. "What was that for?"

"You keep not telling me these things! Were you going to ever tell me that if you owned my soul, you could kill me?" She flopped onto her back next to him.

"It wasn't important until now?" He rolled onto his side to face her. "I wasn't ever going to use that ‘feature' until now."

"I swear to fuck, if we weren't about to die, you'd drive me insane." She rubbed her hands over her face. "Is there anything else you're forgetting to tell me?"

"I am positive there's plenty."

The glare she shot him could have withered a plant.

"I am very old, and these magics are very complicated." He huffed indignantly, though she could tell he was mostly playing. "And humans are very stupid."

"I am not stupid."

"You are when it comes to fae magic."

"You should thank the gods every damn day you wake up that you're pretty."

"I do, in fact." The playful grin that found its way onto his face was a perfect reminder of exactly how attractive he was. "And that was a lovely compliment."

"It was also an insult."

"Meh." With a dismissive half-shrug, he pulled her back to him like a teddy bear and snuggled close. "Now, shush. Sleep. Tomorrow will be a very long day. And tomorrow night will be even longer."

There was sense in that advice. There really was. But she found it hard to sleep, knowing it would be the last time she ever would. Until I sleep forever, at any rate.

To sleep, perchance to dream.

She never spent much of her time dwelling on what she thought or hoped an afterlife might be like. Despite her pagan leanings, she always kind of found wondering if there was a Heaven or Hell, or Elysium, or wherever—kind of a waste of time. There was no telling where she'd go, if anywhere, or if the void would simply claim her.

Now, though, she was very much interested in pondering the question.

Where would she go when she died?

Where would he?

The fae were probably recycled into nature—their life forces returned to Tir n'Aill and the magic of that world. Would she go with him? Would she even know she had?

She sniffed quietly, trying to keep from waking Izael. The melancholy was getting to her.

Izael began to hum a tune, revealing that he was still very much awake. It was a sad song, a minor key, and sounded like some ancient Celtic piece. It was a forlorn lullaby.

Letting out a wavering breath, she snuggled closer to him as he hummed the tune, quietly soothing her. She could feel the sound through his chest against her back. Somehow, despite its sadness, the song was comforting.

The last thing she registered was a kiss against the back of her head, and his quiet voice a moment later.

"Sleep, my songbird…sleep."