Page 112 of Crown of the Fae King

Still, I was glad Hank was safe. If I disappeared forever, at least he was in capable hands. Whomever Persi passed it to would be her worry.

Again, Griffon faced the fire, presenting me with his flawless, muscular back. I wondered if he kept the shirt off to convince me I’d imagined the wings, since there wasn’t so much as a fingernail scratch on his skin.

Did I owe him an apology, or should I demand one? After all, he’d done just what Wickham feared he might—whisked me away the first chance he got. Neither of us could have expected the direction that whisking would take.

“So…you can fly.”

He ignored me.

“What now? You feed me to those monsters?”

“Which monsters would those be?” he asked, without turning.

I shivered but was glad he wasn’t watching. “You know. Those Anubis looking things. Or those beavers with fangs?”

He shook his head. “You’ve read too many fairytales.”

“Yeah, right. They’re murdering sets of witches all over the world and it’s just a fairy tale.”

He turned then. A slight scowl. “What are you talking about?”

If it was an act, I certainly couldn’t tell. And if he wasn’t in league with O’Ryan—no, Orion—then maybe he was oblivious. “You said yourself he’s hunting them. You think he’s just skinning them and hanging their hides on a barn somewhere for fun?”

“You’re going to tell me everything. Now.” He stared me down. I was tempted to ask if he’d throw me off a mountain top if I refused. But the possibility was too viable to joke about.

“Fine. But would you mind getting dressed first?” I couldn’t hold a thought in my head with that chest in my line of sight.

He moved to the side of the room, opened a drawer, and pulled out a sweatshirt. He pulled it over his head while he crossed back to the chair by the fire, as far away from me as he could get. He sat on the edge, leaned his elbows on his knees, and watched me with those shifting eyes.

“What is this place?”

He shook his head. “The murders.”

I propped pillows behind me to keep my back from freezing, scooted against them, then pulled the fur around me. I started near the beginning, leaving out my personal rescue, but included all the deaths that were caused by those creatures, beginning with the murders in Oxford, five years ago. The twin witches had gotten away, but two women in their building had been slaughtered. I told him two monsters were killed, but I didn’t tell him it was Everly who did it.

“But no bodies were found,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

“No. As soon as they died, there was a…”

“Rent in the universe?”

“Yes. And they were—”

“Taken back.”

“Yes. But where?” I went down the list, following in order of meridians. Then I went back five years and told him about the wedding without naming names. About Orion looking for aThirdwhose blood had dripped on the ground. “But the girl didn’t have that power anymore, and the fairy wasn’t happy about it.” I told him the guests fought and killed the small army of monsters he’d brought along. He promised he’d be back for revenge, on everyone, once he finished…something.

“You called her a third? A third of what?”

“A Muir witch born to a Muir witch, who was born to a Muir witch, is called aThird. They are rarely twins, and they have a lot more power than normal. We think…” I groaned. Wickham was right. Griffon was smooth. It was so easy to spill my guts. Eventually, the truth was going to fly out of my mouth and doom me.

Doom us all.

“You think the Naming Powers are hidden among this group ofThirds?”

I nodded, bit my lips together, and swore I wasn’t going to tell him anything more.

“You’re wrong,” he said. “This girl at the wedding couldn’t have once held a Naming Power and then given it away.”

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