WHEN THE MAYHEM RUNS HIGH

I race across the meadow and grab Bran by the arms to give him a hard shake. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”

His face is blank, unemotional. “I am doing what needs to be done, Mouse.”

“He just stabbed you! For fun!” There’s still blood covering the front of him even though the wound has already healed itself. “You don’t know how far he’ll take it. What if he keeps you forever? What if he hurts you so badly, you can’t recover?”

The leader of the Fairies of Suffering runs his tongue over his lips, like he’s lapping up the last of Bran’s suffering.

Arion is suddenly beside me and slowly pries my hands from Bran’s shirt. “Jessie,” he says, forcing me to look at him. The sky is rolling with dark clouds again, thunder rumbling in the distance. I’ve lost control again.

“Allow me to serve as negotiator,” Arion says to me, then to Bran.

“I will agree to that,” Bran says.

Arion turns to the fairy leader. “Draggun?”

“Oh for fuck sake. His name is Dragon?”

“It’s Draggun,” he corrects me, even though it sounds exactly the same. He’s barely glanced at me, as if I don’t matter.

“Well, Dragon,” I say, “you can’t have him.”

“I’d say you’re too late,” Draggun answers.

His voice makes my teeth wrinkle.

“Will you agree to a proper negotiation?” Arion asks him.

“Of course.”

Arion puts himself between Bran and Draggun. “The deal expires a year from today.”

Draggun counters, “A year and a day. And I get him on the last day.”

Arion glances at Bran and Bran gives a quick nod. “Any form of suffering cannot be fatal,” Arion adds.

The thunder rumbles closer as the panic rises in my throat. I could use my voice, make this stop. But then what? I know logically Bran’s right — we need every edge we can get. But at what cost?

I catch his eye as Arion and Draggun iron out the terms of the suffering. Bran says nothing, but the look in his gaze says enough.

You’d do the same for me, is his unspoken response. And you’d demand I respect it.

I swallow, tears stinging in my sinuses. I would do the same. And he’d hate it. Just like he’s hated every other time I’ve risked my life for this.

Fuck.

“You get him and his suffering for twenty-four mortal hours and only on the solstices,” Arion says.

Draggun shakes his head. “Not enough.”

Arion glances at Bran and Bran breaks our gaze. “Solstices and equinoxes.”

“Still not enough.”

Bran sighs. “Every full moon?”

Draggun smiles. “Well enough.”