Page 26 of Ulune's Daughter

With my tail lashing in annoyance at not being able to protect my mate as I should, I pad back into the bedroom, hugging the shadows. My mate’s team are clustered around an open closet. The ink-mage is sketching furiously, the aether around him gleaming with cascades of glyphs, while both my mate and Arch have their hands on a boxy safe set into the back wall of the closet.

My mate grunts, low and pained, and drops to her knees. My hands shimmer to skin before I get control of myself and shrink back into the shadows. She will not thank me for being here. I haven’t had a conversation yet with my mate, but I already know her well enough to know she will be resentful of my diligence and reluctant to accept my protection. Unless she’s in mortal danger, I’ll stay in the shadows for this adventure.

An electric sizzle and a puff of smoke issue from the safe. Arch grabs the handle and pulls it open.

“Wait—!” My mate’s protest is too late. A black form roars out of the mouth of the safe and swipes long claws across Arch’s chest, only missing my mate because she’s on her knees.

Arch grunts and staggers. His clothing shreds under the wraith’s claws. I expect blood to fountain from his chest, but he must be wearing some sort of protection. His hands flare. As my mate raises her palms and whispers a harsh chant to turn the wraith substantial, Arch grasps the wraith with his burning hands and tears it in half.

Despite myself, I’m impressed. Arch may be impetuous, but he has power and knows how to work with his team to best use it.

My mate wafts smoke away with a breath of Air. She reaches into the safe and withdraws a chalice barely larger than her fist. It gleams a dull silver. But for the palpable elation of her team, I wouldn’t think the cup was anything special.

“Plant the gun in his bedside table, Kells,” the tech-mage says through their earpieces.

She nods and levitates the small handgun across the room, popping the drawer open and shut with ease. From watching Luca practice, I know that my mate is handling multiple skeins of her Element to move the gun and drawer. Without so much as a wobble.

I lick at the aether, tasting my mate’s magic. Even with the carrion of the jackalwere souring each gulp, her magic is delicious.

“Ready to evac,” my mate says, speaking into the band on her wrist, as she stows the chalice in a small bag she attaches to her harness.

“Roof’s clear,” the tech-mage says. “Cami’s on the way up.”

“Two minutes,” my mate says, nodding to the ink-mage.

He unrolls a fresh piece of parchment on the floor, sketches a door and handle, and lifts the handle. Kellan jumps through, followed by the ink-mage. As Arch jumps through, he touches a finger to the parchment.

It flashes to ash.

I step into the Fae Ways and step back out under the vent.

The team gathers on the rooftop to collect their gear. They part with hugs and promises to meet soon. The ink-mage creates more portals. After my mate waves them off, she steps into the Fae Ways.

I follow her.

Straight to the enemy’s gates.

Chapter9

Faeward Bound

KELLAN

Faery’s not my home. It will never be my home.

But, damn, if I don’t feel a sense of homecoming as I walk into the Ember Palace.

Teddy’s husband, Gabe, is the first one to greet me. He has a giggling, wiggling toddler over his shoulder. He still manages a warm hug by wrapping a skein of Air around me to replace the arm that’s occupied restraining his daughter or son—I can’t tell which from this angle since they both have mops of black curls and Teddy refuses to dress the twins in gendered clothing.

Once he steps back, I make grabby hands at the baby. “Come to auntie Kells.”

Gabe passes me the cooing twin. It’s Honour; I can tell by his oval face; Gal has this tiny, pointed chin and chubby cheeks. So squeezable. I tickle the tip of Honour’s nose with a finger of Air, which wins me his adorable giggle, as I follow his father into the Ember Palace.

The Ember Palace is a weird place. I’ve seen a lot of places, many of them weird, and the Ember Palace ranks up there on my weird-o-meter. It looks like an English country manor house. Time-worn stone on the outside; genteel opulence on the inside. But it has one foot in the mortal world and the other foot in Faery. Sometimes you open a door in the Palace and the room that was behind that door yesterday is still the room behind that door today. Other times, not so much. Some of the windows look out onto the cobblestone courtyard and mossy gray walls of the court. Other windows look out into the meadows of Faery. Not even a year ago, I was sitting in a bath, perhaps enjoying myself a little inappropriately, when a thunderstorm formed over my head and rained purple fire on me. Fortunately, it just warmed up the water and added lavender bubbles, but another day, it could have broiled me like a lobster. Just depends on Faery’s mood.

For several years while they were at Bevvy and then at the Welsh school where they teach, Teddy and her husbands didn’t stay at the Ember Palace when they visited Thistlemist. Then Teddy got pregnant with the twins. I don’t understand all the ins and outs of fae politics, but Teddy’s father-in-law insisted she give birth in the Ember Palace and it’s been hers ever since.

Teddy and our friend Rachel, who has lived with Teddy and her husbands since their sophomore year at Bevvy, have been redecorating. The oil paintings that used to dreary down the walls have been swapped out for colorful, modern masterpieces courtesy of the twins. Toddler-friendly furniture with rounded corners and wipeable fabrics has replaced fussy antiques. It may still be called the Palace, but it’s Teddy’s home now.

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