Page 81 of Horn of Winter

“Onlyto the royal line.”

Which was of course why Fate decided to throw one of the heirs my way, because why not twist the knife a little deeper?

The door opened, and Lugh came in with a cheery, “And how are the two most important people in my life this fine evening?”

I raised my eyebrows, my gaze meeting Darby’s. Happiness shone from hers, and with good reason—she’d definitely had a major boost up my brother’s emotional rankings.

“We’re good,” we both echoed together, before she added, “I take it you found a new relic for the museum?”

He laughed as he walked around the bench, then kissed her soundly. “And outbid several other museums in the process.”

“Congrats, brother,” I said, raising my glass. “Are we allowed to know this relic’s name?”

“Arion’s Flute.”

I frowned. “Where have I heard that name before?”

“It was one of the relics Vincentia sold off to a private collector. I believe I might have ranted about it for a day or so.”

Because he’d always believed selling important relics—be they godly or not—to private collectors was utterly wrong. The fact that Vincentia had been behind the sale only made his acquisition all that much sweeter.

He accepted the wine Darby poured him with a nod then returned his attention to me. “So, what is this problem you mentioned on the phone?”

“No business discussions over dinner,” Darby said. “Food first. Go set the table while I pull everything out of the oven.”

“She’s becoming very bossy,” he commented, amusement tugging at his lips even as he obeyed.

“She’s always been bossy,” I said dryly. “You’ve just never been the focus of it until now.”

“And hey,” she said breezily. “At least you’re getting to see all my faults before things get too serious.”

“Hmmm” was all he said to that.

We ate dinner, chatting about everything and everything except Eljin and the reason I was here. It wasn’t until dessert was eaten—sticky date pud with caramel sauce—and we’d retired to the sofa that I told Lugh about Borrhás’s demands.

“Look, she’s kin, and under normal circumstances, I would say we simply can’t comply, but she escaped the red knife and is now hunting everyone she believes killed Vincentia, including you.” He scraped a hand across his chin. “And given Borrhás’s threat, what choice do we really have?”

“You don’t,” Darby said, voice flat. “The only real choice either of you have is whether you hand her over alive or dead. Aside from the fact that doing anything else would risk the lives of all in Deva, would not disobeying Borrhás’s order and allowing destruction bring the blood curse down on you both?”

I wrinkled my nose. “I don’t think there’s ever been a situation that’s tested the rules that way, but I just can’t stomach the thought of handing her over alive. And yet, I also can’t just kill her, thanks to the curse.”

“Nor I,” Lugh admitted softly.

“Then you need to make sure she attacks you, and you need to ensure you don’t pull your punches. Either of you.” Her gaze ran from me to Lugh and back again. “I’m a healer. I fix life rather than take it, but I’m also an Ljósálfar elf, and I see no gray here. It comes down to a simple choice—one death, or many.”

I took a deep breath and released it slowly. She was right, but knowing that didn’t make me feel any better.

“It’s also a decision we don’t have to make straight away,” Lugh said. “We’ve got to find her first. It may well be that she’ll come to her senses and retreat.”

“Which is not going to help us or our decision at all, because there was no ifs or buts. It was ‘bring her to Borrhás or else.’” I rose. “On that somber note, I’d better get back home.”

“Call an Uber,” Lugh said immediately, “or let me drive you.”

“I’m fine?—”

“And she’s still out there,” he growled. “I know we’d all feel better if she took the decision from us and attacked, but let’s not make it too easy for her.”

“I wasn’t intending to, brother mine.”

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