Page 161 of Kingdoms of Night

“Aha.” Oberon dropped his head, then shook it, his mouth pinching into a tight line. “It isn’t a trade, Puck. This is wrong. Even if it is true love and not false love turned true. And if I could send you away to safety, I would. You and everyone else here. But every person you’ve brought here—you truly have condemned them.”

Condemned? And Oberon had called this realm a collapsing bubble. She’d heard of realms being destroyed, but only in myths. Was it possible?

“Wait.” Feron finished fastening his trousers and then held up the bright-striped rug to further shield her and let her dress.

Damn these infernal buttons! They were far harder to get fastened again. Why did there have to be so many?

“You mean we can’t get home?” Feron demanded.

She froze as he said that. No. No, that couldn’t be. Home or no, everyone here needed to leave if the realm was collapsing. The Tue-Rah could get anywhere. Whether it would cooperate might be another question.

Oberon turned back to them, his brow knit and his eyes like a storm. “No. It’s possible for people to come. But we can’t reliably send people through anymore. At least not with any confidence they will survive the journey. This is a world that isn’t meant to exist, and her very heart is collapsing.”

“We will find a way to fix this,” Puck said. “With all these clever people—”

“There is no way,” Oberon snapped. “It has been centuries. What do you think has changed? What could possibly have happened except that our resources and strength have lessened?”

“Someone will know! One day. At least one. Maybe more. You cannot give up. There is still time! How can you have given up so completely when our fate is not yet sealed?”

“Puck, all there is to do is to make our peace with the death that is coming.” He shook his head, the mournful darkness still heavy upon him as he turned to Feron and Idalno once more. “With this added information, you have my apologies. Both of you. Wander the castle. There are rooms to spare. Choose some if you like. Mark the door with ink or your claws. I don’t care. Or make your way in the wilds. You’ll be here till the end now. Whenever that is.”

Feron’s face hardened as he bolted toward the window, then pulled back the curtain.

A low rumbling sounded along with hoofbeats. It scaled in volume. The Wild Hunt! Idalno glanced toward the window as well. They were inside. Did that mean they were safe?

“No, not again—” Feron went rigid, his eyes glassy. His knees locked.

“Feron.” She shook his shoulder. “Feron, are you all right? What’s wrong?”

Oberon frowned as he tilted his head. “What is the Wild Hunt doing? Surely they aren’t coming here. It isn’t even close to sunset.”

“Father.” Puck jumped in front of Oberon and grabbed ahold of his arm. “Grant them your protection. Both of them. We could contest the former claim.”

He scowled. “What?”

“Claim both. As proteges. Place them under your protection. It’s the only way.”

“Only way for what?” Oberon shook him off, his frown intensifying. “I don’t take proteges or students of any kind anymore.”

“Just because I’m no longer under your protection doesn’t mean others aren’t worthy of it. Doesn’t she remind you of Nimue?” He pointed at her, his voice almost desperate.

Nimue? She scowled as she fought to rouse Feron, but his expression didn’t change. Who was Nimue?

Oberon held up his gloved finger. “Do not dare to bring your sister into this. Why are we even—” The stones of the castle shook as the sound intensified. His silver eyes widened. “They’re coming here, aren’t they?”

“You have to claim them, Father. It may be too late for him. But at least claim the girl child. You have to. She’ll be killed otherwise. But they’d both be useful. I swear it.”

Girl child? She hadn’t been a child in years.

Puck grabbed Oberon’s sleeve. “Claim her!”

“You’re not claiming her!” Feron snapped out of his stunned state and swept his arm in front of her. His claws shot out again, his muscles straining along his neck and biceps. He bared his teeth. “No one’s claiming anyone. She’s mine! And no one’s killing her either!”

Oh. Her heart skipped.

His. He’d called her his. Why did that turn her on so much?

She tightened her grip on his shoulder with one hand and reached for her knife with the other. Damn it. It wasn’t there. Fine. She’d use her fists. She had an excellent right hook. If they had to fight, she’d help him. Even if she couldn’t see any plants or soil that she could use. Why did no one in this place keep plants in pots inside?

---