Page 136 of Ulune's Daughter

I nod to each of them, spread my wings, grab the Air, and wing my way back to Scilla.

When I land on the sill of the hotel window, my Cait warrior is sitting on the edge of the bed, his elbows planted on his knees, his head bowed over his phone as he taps madly. I flap to the floor and rise into my fae shape, settling my cloak around me.

“Kellan?” My Cait warrior leaps up from the bed, throwing his phone aside, his arms open. “Kellan? Where did you go?”

He calls to the mortal, half-human side of me.

I reply as gently as I can, wanting him to understand that more than that side is awake. “Caileán,” I say. “I could not take you yet where I travel, my warrior. But leaving you behind was a choice I would rather not make again.”

He slows and steps carefully, his body sliding through light and shadow. My beautiful consort. I reach out and run my fingertips down his bare chest, careful not to scratch him. Although he’s young and strong, already tempered by battle, his Fire spirit bright, he’s still vulnerable. As am I. Until my court is rebuilt, until I take my throne and join with my consorts, until our spirits burn together instead of within our own breasts, we’re still vulnerable.

“I went to meet my sisters, Kathu and Brangwy,” I tell him. “They’ve recently awoken as well.”

Lawson swallows, his muscled throat working, shadow kissing the cords in his neck and shoulders as they rise and fall under his skin. I make him uneasy, my consort, because he only knows the woman and the harm her fae blood rising did to her.

“I don’t know those names,” Lawson says, his tone cautious.

“They’re long forgotten.” I trace the pulsing cords at the base of his throat with a light finger. “I know you’re protective of Kellan. I am, too. I’ve let my mortal blood sleep tonight. When I wake, the things I did and saw and learned tonight will be remembered as though in a dream. I’ll need your reassurance that it was real. That the history we’ve been taught is a lie and my memories of rapine and murder are the truth. That the Oak King is our enemy and none of the Tylwyth Teg can be trusted. That my vengeance is a current in the rising tide that will wash Faery clean. I’ll need you to be my memory, my touchstone, my haven. I know I frighten you, Lawson. I don’t want to. Someday our souls will be one again and I long for that with everything that’s in me.”

He shudders and raises his hand tentatively. When I don’t pull away, he grasps my wrist, his thumb slipping around mine. I shift so I can clasp his hand.

“Do you ... when you’re dreaming and Kellan’s awake, do you hear and see and feel? Do you know everything Kellan knows?” he asks.

I nod. “I am Kellan. I am also more.”

Lawson lets out a long breath. “That’s what we thought. My brother’s been researching your history. He found the songs of Eira. They speak of you and your court.”

“Eira was my sister Didrane’s bard. I’m pleased her poems have survived. Tell the scholar to give the book to Kellan. It’s a gentle way to awaken more memories.”

“Was tonight gentle?” Lawson asks, using our joined hands to draw me closer.

Remembering the flood of horror on the beach, I shake my head. “No, tonight was not gentle.”

“Let me comfort you?”

His moments of sweetness are all the sweeter for being unexpected. His courage is unmatched. I feather my knuckles down his cheek. “You are everything I could have asked the Mother for.”

His throat works again. “I’ve lied to Kellan. I’ve kept truths from her. If she knew I was still a student, she wouldn’t let me serve her needs. If she knew I’ve stayed close to her in my cat form, she’d feel betrayed?—”

“Be easy, my love,” I croon to him. “Release your guilt. You have protected and watched over your mate as you’re meant to. You’ve given of your body and your blood and your seed. I could not ask the Mother for more, Lawson. The rules my mortal self clings to are small things, created by small minds. We are not small. Bevington is a cradle. It’s brought us together; it’s the place from which we grow to become what we’re destined to be.”

He catches my hand and draws me against him. I shrug open the cloak so we’re bare skin to bare skin. His breath warms the inside of the cowl hanging around my face. “If she hates me when she finds out?—”

“Weather the storm. Know that it will pass and as I awaken to everything I am, I will remember your devotion, not your deception. We are Cait and Crow. Our souls do not lie to each other.”

“Yes,” he murmurs. “Yes, that’s what I feel.”

“Fly with me?” I whisper. “Let me wrap you in my wings and soar into the Mother’s dark night?”

He shivers. “Fly? Maybe you should take Luca. I’m not a great flier.”

“I promise to hold you tight to my breast and never let you fall. My consort, my adored, cherished, treasured consort, trust me. Let me gift you the night’s breath. Let me take away your small cares and show you what we will become together.”

His muscles soften and he eases closer. “Yes.”

Feathering a kiss over his cheek, I wrap my cloak around us both and leap through the window into the night.

Chapter42

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