Wayfinder

lurched forward, catching Aerin’s arm, and thrust her own desperate reassurance into the growing earth storm: “I know you remember. I remember, too. But it wasn’t this magic or this man who hurt you in the Catskills. Listen to my words, to my song. I’m a truthseeker, and you know what I say is true.” She might have felt foolish, shouting at the world itself, except Aerin’s approval was evident, and Lara clearly recalled the living earth responding when she had first wielded the worldbreaking weapon.

And the earth seemed to recall her, as well. A grumble rolled through its music, but it abruptly fell away, releasing Dafydd from its grip. He collapsed, Lara bearing his weight as Aerin released him and staggered the few steps back to Detective Washington’s side. She fell against him heavily, hands planted on his shoulders, and for the second time, magic rushed from her, pouring into Washington. The music changed again, becoming truer than it had been when captured in either Aerin or Dafydd’s frame. It knew Washington, knew him in a way the earth had known Lara as well, recognizing him as mortal-born and part of its domain. It embraced him more willingly—more willingly, even, than it had accepted Lara and her brand of mortal magic—and a note of sorrowing darkness came into the music.

“No.” Aerin’s voice was harsh but pleading. “Only hold him. Cradle him. Do not take him into your bosom. He is not yet meant for the barrows, not if the mortal healers are strong. Only lend him the stamina he lacks, so that time and determination might make him well. He will be yours in time, as all mortal things are, and he will come to you in body as all mortal things do. Let him live this little while yet, safe in your embrace.”

Earth magic thrummed, deep song that vibrated the small bones of Lara’s ears, then settled in contentment. Traces of its long slow notes lingered around Washington, an answer to Aerin’s request. After long moments she released her hold on the magic, song falling away as she lifted her head, exhaustion evident in every movement. “He will live. If he is strong, he will live.”

“That’s fantastic.” Pure truth made Kelly’s voice a thing of uplifting music, but her tone was edged with panic. Lara, still supporting Dafydd, turned to find her friend pressed against the door, using her body weight to keep it closed. A resounding thump echoed from its far side, the door jumping, and she bared her teeth as she put her weight against it more heavily. “That’s fricking fantastic, but we’ve got another problem. How the hell are we going to get out of here? There’s a goddamned riot squad outside the door.”

Lara flinched as the door thumped again, bewilderment coursing through her. “How do they even know something’s wrong?”

“Oh, because everybody in here’s been shouting for the past five minutes? Would somebody please do something?” Kelly shouted herself. Aerin took a handful of swift steps across the room, abandoning Washington to instead enfold Ioan in her arms. The look she gave Dafydd was as expectant as any Emyr had ever commanded, and Lara felt him draw himself up, preparing the glamour that would hide them from mortal eyes.

Felt, too, the line of tension that ran through him, and she spoke before he did: “The magic’s gone, isn’t it. You’re cut off?”

“I am. Not so exhaustively as before, but—”

“We don’t really have time to debate the details!” Kelly snapped. The door jolted again and she yelped. “Guys, I can’t hold this. The only reason the door’s not already open is they’re probably trying not to kill me on their way in. You, Ioan, prince-guy. Can you do the big glamour magic and hide everybody? And I mean everybody?”

Ioan blinked at her fuzzily, then, much as Dafydd had, deliberately drew himself together, clearly searching for his own power. Lara took a breath to protest, then swallowed it on another realization: “You can understand her?”

Aerin shot Lara a brief uncomprehending glance before her gaze cleared. “Yes. What have you done?”

“I didn’t do anything!” Out-of-tune music spun through the objection, searching for an aspect of truth. Lara pressed a hand against her temple, trying to push the automatic truthseeking away. “It doesn’t matter right now. Ioan, can you—”

Like his brother, Ioan shook his head. “Annwn’s magic hasn’t deserted me, but I’m simply too weary, Truthseeker. A glamour to hide us all is beyond me.”

Frustration rose up, though Lara kept sharp commentary behind her teeth. Dafydd had glamoured not only four people, but a vehicle, while so drained of magic he could barely maintain consciousness. Either his will or his inherent power was greater than Ioan’s, though in Ioan’s defense, he had sustained a head injury where Dafydd had not.

Aerin, cursing so vividly the meaning was lost to translation, dragged a glamour into place herself. “I will not be able to hold this as long as royalty might,” she warned as she and Ioan faded away. “We have very little time.”

“Ow!” Kelly ran forward, getting out of the way as the door flew open and security, including the fit older guard from before, burst through. Doctors, nurses, even Dickon Collins, flooded through after them, voices lifted in concern and outrage before one, then all, took notice of Dafydd, still standing in Lara’s embrace.

He was radiant: she hardly had to look at him to know that. Radiant and utterly inhuman, with the fine chiseled features of the Seelie race no longer hidden by blunting glamours. Even human, he was beautiful, but his eyes were brown, not amber, and his slim form looked ordinary, not sculpted. Worse, with the glamour gone, the padded tunic and leggings that he’d worn under the discarded armor looked all the more out of place, enhancing every aspect of his inhumanity. Lara’s heart lurched as she looked at him, taking in every aspect of his slender allure. Without fully meaning to, she stepped in front of him. He was the taller by several inches, impossible to hide, but a knot of determination unlike anything she’d ever known lodged itself inside her. The intruders might want to take Dafydd away, but they would go through her to do it. She wished she had a weapon and the knowledge of how to use it.

The worldbreaking staff came to life with the thought, humming urgently for her attention. Against all wisdom, Lara reached over her shoulder, drawing it from its bindings one fistful at a time, until she pulled it free and held it in front of herself at a crosswise angle. Power rushed through it, so eager to be used that the ivory vibrated in her hands. It could wreak havoc, it promised: it could make certain no one would take Dafydd from her. All it needed was her command. Less than that: tacit permission, almost granted by the act of drawing it, would unleash its magic. Nothing mortal would stand in its way.

Dickon, cautiously, said, “Lara, don’t make this worse than it has to be.”

“I don’t want to.” Truth shivered through the words, so cold she hardly recognized her own voice. “Believe me, I don’t want to. But I won’t let anybody take Dafydd.”

“What is he?” One of the doctors spoke, less angry than baffled, despite the disruption in her hospital. She watched Dafydd as avidly as Lara ever had, though her interest seemed more scientific than romantic. “He’s like the other one in the secure wing. What are they?”

“People,” Lara whispered. “They’re people, even if they don’t look like us. They’re not for experimenting on or dissecting or questioning. Please, just leave us alone. We’ll go away and won’t bother you again, but I will not let you take him from me.”

The doctor flashed her a look of genuine sympathy, though it was riddled with less kind pity as well. “Do you really think that’s your decision, miss? Do you even think it’s mine?” She took a step forward and Lara lifted the staff.

Power crashed from the weapon, invisible but potent, a barely controlled wave that made all the equipment in the room surge and beep frantically. The doctor spun toward Detective Washington, concern for her patient slightly greater than fear or interest in Dafydd, and she shot Lara an accusing look as she checked the detective over.

Lara’s knuckles went white around the staff, her whispered “No” directed at it alone. “No. Not unless there’s no other way.” She felt it struggling against her will, against the truth she invested in her words, and had an instant of wishing the weapon was slightly more alive than it was, so she could threaten it more effectively. The only thing she could potentially do was break it for disobeying, and that would have repercussions far beyond any she could anticipate.

“Nurse. Double-check this, please.” The doctor’s voice sharpened and two of the nurses broke away from staring at Dafydd to join her. The equipment had settled back down, beeping and thrumming regularly, but the