Page 94 of The Blood Queen

My arms tighten around her. And it shocks me to my bones when I say, “Yes,” and mean it.

She smells like candle wax and parchment, like spiced wine and stew—she ate, only because I made her. I pull back to look down at her, brushing hair out of her eyes, hoping mine aren’t bloodshot, hoping I don’t look like I’ve been crying.

I smile. “Meeting all wrapped up?”

She studies me the same way the Green Lady did. Intensely, like she’s seeing within, to all my secrets.

I let her look. Hope she sees everything, hope she sees only what I want her to see.

Alyth rises up onto her toes and presses her lips to mine. “The lairds will be at it for hours yet,” she says against my mouth.

“You need to get back in there, then?”

A pause. Her forehead tips toward me, and I bend to press mine against hers, our hands threading, our breaths mingling.

“Take me to bed,” she whispers.

Heat streaks through me, a lightning bolt, a wildfire flash.

We’ve got a battle to prepare for. Plans to affirm, armies to coordinate.

But I kiss the shell of her ear. “Anything you want, Alyth.”

24 Alyth

I am not a fool.

I know that Beira’s words of warning, of the cost of tugging on the threads of fate, were directed at more than me. I know she whispered more to Samson, about fires burning out.

And he cannot hide from me. Not in the shadows where I’ve dwelled for so long.

We are both keenly aware that there is a cost to all fae magic. Nothing, not even the answer to a question, is freely given in the fae world.

To do something as big as changing fate, to toy with a weapon that eliminated the Faerie Queen, that was made by the High Blade…

There is no scenario where we both walk out of this alive.

I take Samson to my room in the castle, fire already lit, warming the space as snow falls outside, casting a blanket of white over the grounds, sparkling in the moonlight.

It will not be you, I think as I carefully take off my bodice, the iron needle with a drop of the High Blade’s blood hidden inside.

It will not be you, I think as I bare myself to him.

Samson moves toward me, wrapping his arms around me, his hands trailing up my back, fingers tangling in my hair.

It will not—cannot—be him to pay the price to win this war.

But I know whatever price will be paid, it will come due soon. Our plan is strong. The High Blade will absolutely march to Edinburgh, to the Caiy Stone, the portal that opens directly into the Faerie Queen’s castle courtyard. Meeting her there is our best chance at stopping her. But it also means…tonight might be our last.

Samson dips his head to me, concern evident in his expression. I smile at him sadly. He reads me as if I paint my thoughts across my forehead. “This was never your battle to fight,” I tell him. “This isn’t your home. This isn’t—”

Samson huffs a little laugh. “You’re the most intelligent woman I know,” he says. “And yet you can’t see? I never had a home until I had you.”

Emotion stings at my eyes, and I drive it away by tipping up on my toes, pressing my lips to his.

It will not be you, I swear to myself, a vow deeper than any I have ever made, stronger than any magic I have ever felt.

I do not know what this battle in Edinburgh will entail. I only know that a price will be paid.