And, selfishly, deep in my gut I had this feeling that if I could convince this one Fae I was good, maybe I wouldn’t have to feel so guilty all the time. That maybe Tarik, who seemed to hate the shifters more than any other Fae, could grant me some small peace and forgive the stupid title which plagued my steps and ruined my predetermined life. I had trained for this job since I could walk. There were no options in the matter; I was always meant to be an Enforcer. I didn’t realize what that entailed, what Mordecai and Alec actually did, until I was far older. Until the damage was already done. Service and loyalty to my adoptive father were ingrained reflexes.
Speaking up for Tarik was worth the consequences, I chanted to myself. I stood behind my decision. Didn’t I? My breath came in staggered bursts. I closed my eyes and inhaled slowly.
Worth it, I repeated.
So why didn’t I believe myself?
The rest of the day passed in a blur. I kept to myself, quiet, and didn't interfere with any more interviews. Mordecai didn’t let me forget his anger though. The fire in his eyes grew with each passing applicant. Late in the afternoon, when I had escorted the last Fae out, I turned to find him in the foyer with his arms crossed tightly over his chest.
His eyes narrowed on me. “What were you thinking, interfering with Fae dealings?” he spat. “Have I taught you nothing?”
“I was the reason he lost his job, Father. I felt guilty.”
“You shouldn’t. We do not help the Fae.”
I paused. I hadn’t expected him to confirm my suspicions about this job so easily. “Isn’t that the whole purpose of your mining operation? To help the Fae?”
Oh. He didn’t like being called out. Rage ignited his expression and I winced as he snarled, “My office, now.”
Too far. I had pushed too far. Without response I turned to shuffle up the stairs, hurrying into the enclosed room. He didn’t follow. My usual punishment was a couple dozen lashings. I could handle that. Even so, my chest tightened at the thought, blood pulsing in my ears. When the door finally opened I almost sobbed in relief.
Until I saw what was in his hand.
A long, thin metal rod.
One whose end was fashioned into a brand of his dragon insignia. I stared hard at the small bit of silver, then met his eyes.
Oh.
Oh.
“Father, wait—”
“I’ve been too lenient with you, Reagan. You’re soft. You’ve always been soft. I’ve let you slip through the cracks for too long,” he growled. “You are the Night Enforcer. You have a job and a duty, one that does not involve playing knight in shining armor to the Fae. Apparently you need a more permanent reminder of who you are and who you belong to.”
I froze. He stuck the metal into the crackling flames of his fireplace. The instinct to shift clawed at my insides, but my body was too tired. Pressure grew along my spine and then faded. My wings never came. I was alone. No help to be had.
The silver glowed a hot orange.
“Kneel,” Mordecai barked. Every inch of me trembled as I dropped to my knees, head bowed. He inched closer and shoved my head up, brushing my hair across the far shoulder. He tugged the collar of my shirt lower then gripped my hair, shoving my head away from him to expose my neck. I trembled in fear, in horror, as he met my eyes and said, “We do not help the Fae.”
White hot pain lashed through the left side of my neck, splintering my vision. He held the brand there.
One second.
Two.
Three.
When he finished, I collapsed onto the rug. My breath came in long, frenzied gasps and I sobbed into the rough fabric that bit into my cheek. The mark thrummed angrily on my neck, pulsing along with the heartbeat that slammed into my ears.
“Get out,” Mordecai bellowed.
I lifted myself, arms and legs trembling, and crawled to the door. I managed to turn the handle, to crawl into the hallway. The marble floor flew toward my face and the world went black.
Worst hangover ever.
I thought I’d slept off last night’s stupidity, but the headache had increased after my interview with Mordecai, forcing me to take an afternoon nap—that hadn’t helped. Maybe his mere presence had caused the migraine pulsing at my temples and the slight tremor in my bones. I snorted, hopping over a rain puddle which only made my head pound more. My healing magic all but begged me to soothe the ache, but I ignored the pull.
At the sight of Mordecai this morning, I’d lost my temper. Completely screwed up. The rage had taken control, unfurling from my mouth in the form of snark.
Somehow, I was still alive. For a hot second, I thought he’d morph into a fire-breathing dragon and burn me to ash. The look in his eyes . . .
And then Reagan had interfered. I shook my head, picking up the pace. My bare feet slapped against cracked concrete as I took a late evening jog along the Fae border. If not for her, I’d probably be in an unmarked grave right now. Up until last night, I thought I’d wanted that—to leave this cold, sadistic world behind. Go out with a bang. Show shifters what Fae were still capable of.
But now . . .
Now I realized what an idiot I was. Destroying my life in a blaze of glory would mean absolutely nothing to anyone, least of all the shifters. Except maybe one. Sweat trickled down my spine, reminding me of her spine, the way it dipped inward before tapering
