Page 93 of Ulune's Daughter

“I love that your mask is Headman Roairarotu, by the way. I guess your inside man got you that.”

“He did,” I admit. “Tell me Headman Roairarotu’s story before I meet the Holly King.”

I nod at the line of people waiting to speak to the fae. Kellan could push to the front. No one would object. But we join the end of the line because my mate has good manners.

She tells me the story of the man whose death mask I’m wearing. Kellan was drawn to his legend because of her history with the Shark God. Roairarotu also faced off with a preternatural shark who hunted his people when they took their dugouts to the waters around their island to fish. Although a Fire-mage, Roairarotu met the wereshark in the water, fought to the death, and won by encasing his fireballs in skeins of water crafted by his daughter. Mortally wounded, Roairarotu swam to shore and died in his daughter’s arms.

Kellan sings me a few lines of the daughter’s lament for her father, her voice sweet and low. Conversation all around us stops as everyone listens to her. There’s a huge round of clapping and cries for “more” and “encore” when she finishes.

Kellan blushes and turns her face into my shoulder.

I look around the room, swelling with pride.

My eyes meet the dark, cold stare of Carrie Prince. She narrows her eyes at me.

I flash her my fangs before turning back to the woman on my arm. “That was beautiful.”

“I’m planning an article on weresharks and Pac Rim cultures as part of my tenure application. I thought I might record her song to release with the article.”

“You should. I’ll pay for your time in a recording studio if you’ll let me lurk in a corner and listen to you sing.”

Her eyes lift to mine. “You haven’t said what you do, but I know you have money just from how utterly self-assured you are.”

“I have money. As for what I do, I keep darkness from taking over our worlds.”

“That’s, um?—”

“Arrogant?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s true, though. The Cait have kept the Mirk from spreading in both our worlds for generations.”

“I’ve seen them,” Kellan says, her tone pensive. “I know most halflings can’t. But I’ve always been able to. I’ve seen the hounds. I’ve seen Mirk Riders.” Her fingers tighten on my biceps as I stiffen. “I saw one in the mists on Isla Cedros. When it saw me, it fled. Why?”

Because she will be a Queen of the Dark, and the Mirk are right to fear her.

“If it had attacked you, what would you have done?” I ask.

“Fought. I’m not good at backing down. My friend Teddy says I was born without any self-preservation instinct.”

Having seen her with the jackalweres, I’m inclined to agree with the Earth-witch.

“How would you have fought?” I ask.

She tips her head to the side. “I’m not sure I should tell you.”

“That’s why it fled. It senses the same thing I sense. You control the shades of Faery. You could shatter a Mirk Rider with a scream.”

She swallows. “That’s not a, uh, usual banshee thing, is it?”

“No.”

“And you’re not running.”

I lift my champagne glass and a waiter immediately comes to collect it. Once my hand is free, I curl it over hers. “I’m not running.”

She tips her head against my shoulder. “I scared off the last guy.”