was taking a really irritating amount of glee in carting me off to be executed.
We don’t get along.
Shaken by my distinctly nonstandard greeting, Dugan cleared his throat and asked, “May I come in?”
I gave him a weary look. “What time should I be there? Am I supposed to bring an escort?”
“I, uh . . . seven-thirty. And yes. It’s a formal event, and an escort is recommended.” Sounding unhappy, he added, “I was told to volunteer if—”
“That won’t be necessary.” I closed the door in his face, snapping the deadbolt into place with a decisive “click.” It was almost dawn; Connor might still be up if I called him soon. That would take care of the escort. As for the rest of it. . .
Missing children. The Luidaeg calling in my debts. Sometimes I wonder why I ever bother thinking life could be simple. That only happens in fairy tales.
THREE
THE PHONE RANG AS I WAS REACHING FOR IT. I grimaced and picked up, mentally making excuses for why I had to hang up immediately. “Hello?”
“Oh, good. You’re still up.”
All the tension went out of my shoulders. I slumped against the hallway wall, an involuntary smile tugging at my lips. “Connor, hey. I was just about to call you.”
“Then it’s a good thing I’m still up, too.” Connor’s laugh was slightly distracted, like his attention was being pulled in eight directions at once. “Can I see you?”
“That’s why I was calling. Connor—”
“Tell me about it when I get there. I’m right down the street.” He hung up before I could object. Not that I’d intended to; I needed a date to the Queen’s Court, and more than that, I needed a friend. I needed Connor.
Connor O’Dell and I started “dating” when I was a teenager. We broke up because his family said he couldn’t waste his time with a changeling, but we never got over each other, not even when I hooked up with a human man and he wound up in a diplomatic marriage to a crazy woman. I don’t think it surprised anyone when Connor celebrated his annulment by asking me to join him for breakfast. I know it didn’t surprise either of us when I said “yes.”
Breakfast started at sunset—a perfectly reasonable hour, since fae are primarily nocturnal—and lasted until the restaurant closed. After that, we wandered around the city, holding hands, talking, and remembering why we’d been attracted to each other in the first place. He kissed me good morning on my front porch ten minutes before sunrise, and I pulled him inside so he could kiss me good night. To hell with pleasantries and waiting for people to forget the scandal of his wife’s desertion. We’d waited years, and I wasn’t waiting anymore. Maybe it was a bad idea, but, by Maeve, I’d earned a bad idea or two. We both had.
I was heading back to the kitchen to get my coffee when there was a knock at the door. I glanced at the clock as I moved to answer it. “You weren’t kidding when you said you were right down the street. That took you what, three minutes?”
Connor smiled wanly. “I barely remembered to call first.”
“I would have been happy to see you either way. Come in.”
I gave him an assessing look as he stepped inside. Connor’s taste in clothes had always run to beachcomber casual, and tonight was no different; he was wearing jeans and a white T-shirt, and his feet were bare. The sealskin that kept him tied to his fae nature was tied around his waist with a complicated sailor’s knot. His dappled brown-and-gray hair was fluffed up in that barely-dry way that made me want to comb it down with my fingers until it was tame, or until he distracted me with some tangles of my own.
Connor caught my appraisal and shook his head. “I got a ride over from a Kelpie. It’s been a long night.”
If I tried to ride a Kelpie, I’d wind up shredded and devoured before I could blink. “I’m pretty sure this is the calm before the storm.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” said Connor. He put his hands on my shoulders, turning me to face him, and leaned in to kiss me deeply. His lips tasted like kelp and sweetened seawater.
Connor’s kisses had a way of making even the worst nights seem like they weren’t such a big deal. I melted against him, curling the fingers of one hand through his hair and hooking the fingers of my other hand under the knot on his sealskin belt, effectively pinning him in place. I don’t like the water, but where Connor was concerned, I was willing to make an exception. If he was the sea, I was more than happy to drown.
I made a dissatisfied whining sound as he broke contact enough to murmur, “You taste like coffee.” His hands had somehow found their way under my shirt, and were tracing delicate lines down my back.
“There’s a surprise.” I kissed him again before resting my forehead against his, leaving my hands tangled where they were. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“So am I.” His expression turned serious. “Salt and sand, Toby, I don’t know how to say this, but . . .”
My heart sank. “Saltmist is sending you away, aren’t they?”
“What?” He pulled away. Heart sinking further, I let him. “Why would you think that?”
I forced a wry smile, despite the ache in my chest. “You’re wet, and the Luidaeg was here just before you called. Is it really as bad as she thinks? Are you leaving?”
Connor was quiet for a long moment, dark eyes searching my face. Finally, quietly, he said, “It’s probably worse. I think we’ll be lucky if we don’t go to war. And no, I’m not leaving yet, but . . . I don’t know. I might have to.”
“Maeve’s teeth.” I pulled my hands free, using them both to rake my hair away from my face. “Are you attending the thing at the Queen’s Court tomorrow night?”
“I’m still the diplomatic attaché to Shadowed Hills, at least until I’m recalled. I pretty much have to be there,” he said. “Are they summoning the gentry?”
“Got it in one—you just missed Dugan.”
Connor’s expression darkened. “That’s probably for the best. I’d rather not cause a diplomatic incident on the eve of war.”
“I like it when you’re protective,” I said, leaning in close and linking my hands behind his neck. For some reason, my boyfriend didn’t like the man who’d had me carted away in chains. Go figure. “Even if I thought I could get away with playing hooky, the Luidaeg wouldn’t let me. She doesn’t want us to go to war, so apparently, I get to stop it.”
Connor whistled, long and low. “She doesn’t ask for anything small, does she?”
“It’s not her style.” I kissed his chin. “What do you say? Be seen in public with me? And maybe vouch for me to the Lordens? This will be easier if they don’t hate me.”
“I’ll try,” he said, a deep fondness in his voice. “Are you planning to charge out and save the world tonight?”
“No. I can’t exactly visit the Undersea, and I know where the Lordens will be tomorrow night. I can meet with them then. Besides, it’s late. It’d be nice to start a crisis without a side order of sleep deprivation for once.” Fae society essentially shuts down when the sun comes up. If we were going to go to war, it wouldn’t be until late afternoon at the absolute earliest. Plenty of time for sleep . . . and other things.
“Can I stay the day?”
I smiled. “Like I’d let you leave?”
Connor didn’t answer me in words. Instead, he kissed me hard, lifting my feet off the floor in the process. I responded by kicking off my shoes and locking my legs around his waist, grabbing hold of his sealskin belt again, this time for traction, and kissing him back, trying to grind myself all the way into him. He carried me down the hall like that, kissing me all the while, like he thought I might have forgotten how he felt about me sometime in the last five minutes.
I barely had the presence of mind to pull one hand free of his hair and slam the bedroom door before any of my pets could follow. I really didn’t care if Cagney and Lacey were spying for Tybalt, but there were some things he just didn’t need reported to him.
Connor kept backing up until he hit the bed and sat down, leaving me sitting in his lap. I unwound my legs so
