Page 70 of Ulune's Daughter

“Girls are different,” Law says.

“How much shit are we actually going to give her?” I ask.

“The right amount that she doesn’t think about dating again until she’s at least twenty-five.”

I snigger.

“Kellan didn’t wait that long,” I say. “I get the feeling she hasn’t dated much, though. She seems really excited for each date with Rho.”

Law lifts his upper lip to show me his fangs. “Stop talking about her spending time with the human. It gives me indigestion.”

I roll back and forth on the couch, scratching my back against its velvet surface. I’m fucking tickled about both Rho dating Kellan and giving my brother an upset stomach. Rho needs to fall for my mate and Law needs to fucking chill.

“Why didn’t you ask Dad the real question?” Law says after I eat my way through another few pizza crusts.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, even though I do. Of course, I do. There isn’t a Cait who doesn’t think about it daily. The fact that we’re all going to the Umbra Wood when we die. Because when the Seelie cast the Cait and our Unseelie cousins out of the light, the rending was at the cost of souls: theirs and ours. The Seelie lost their souls entirely, sacrificed to the magic that rent fae from fae. But the Unseelie still have their souls. They’re just forfeit when we die, to burn and bleed in the Umbra Wood for eternity.

Law chuffs at me. “I hate when you play dumb. Doesn’t suit you.”

“Dad cares about power here in the now, not what happens to our souls when we die.”

“I care,” Law growls.

“He doesn’t know the answer, bro. If he did, he’d have said something. And don’t get your hopes up. Even if Kellan is a new Phantom Queen, there’s no guarantee she could command the Shades out of the Umbra Wood. And no guarantee Hell would surrender them.”

“But it’s a possibility,” Law says.

“Yeah, it’s a possibility. So’s the Bevvy football team winning the division. It’s just not very fucking likely.”

Bevington’s football team is notoriously bad. Nothing like Bevvy’s swim team, which has won the division championships for three years running. All on the strength of my boyfriend’s broad shoulders. Rhodes is abeastin the water.

And in bed.

Fuck, I love him so much. He has no idea what I would do for him. Watching him creep after Kellan the other morning, his broken heart leaving a trail so thick I could have licked it out of the aether, nearly brokeme. I will find a way to keep him even while I have Kellan. I swear it on my little sister’s life.

“The new Holly King used to be a court guard,” Law says. He sounds pensive. He’s kicked back on the couch where Dad was sitting, chewing on some leftover pepperoni. Larissa filed his fangs for him before we ate—without him even asking—but it still looked like he was having trouble chewing the ‘za.

“Yeah, I heard that. Challenged the Oak King after his blood brother was killed by the Wild Hunt.”

Law nods. “He was a warrior before he became king. He might be more receptive to my ideas about the Mirk.”

Law wants to destroy the Mirk once and for all. Dad’s forbidden him from pursuing it. We don’t often lose warriors to the Mirk. Maybe once every few years. Dad regards the Mirk as a nuisance, a training ground for princelings learning how to lead. The Cait Sidhe are Faery’s strongest warriors and even against a host of the Mirk, unless there’s a Mirk Rider leading them, the Cait is going to prevail. But we have lost people, and each time we do, I see the shadows tighten around my twin.

“Or he might tell Dad and win you the beating you’ve deserved since we were ten.”

Mom and Dad gave up on corporal punishments with us before we even reached the Troublesome Tweens. Collective parental disapproval worked better on Law than a hundred spankings, and all Dad’s ever had to do to punish me is hug me.

Law grinds his fangs and opens his mouth to speak. As he does, the door from the audience hall to the family apartments cracks open.

Law’s standing with his arms crossed over his chest before Aine even comes through the door. In the spirit of brotherly solidarity, I get up, too. But it’s a slow, languorous thing and my arms stay at my sides.

“Who is he?” Law demands as Aine sweeps her gray-green eyes over us. Wide eyes, accentuated with gold glitter and mascara. Our baby sister is wearing makeup. And apple-bottom jeans with a crop-top that shows she needs more than a training bra these days. Law’s going to have a complete melt-down.

But Aine’s been taking our shit for years and knows just how to give it back. She crosses her arms over her chest. “You couldn’t even drop me a text to let me know you were coming?”

“No, we couldn’t,” Law huffs. “We have responsibilities. And you have a responsibility not to get pregnant before you start high school. Who is he?”

Aine’s pretty eyes narrow. “What if it’s a she?”

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