“I’ll do it.” My voice is a whisper on the wind.
“Mo chroí,” Brennus calls from behind me. The sharp points of his white wings meet my gaze as I turn to find him moving toward me from down the hill. His black hair falls onto his brow, over skin that’s flawless—a normal hue, turning rosy from the crisp air. The black armor he wears is streaked with mud and blood. He’s no longer Gancanagh; his soul has merged with his body and he’s Faerie once more.
I’ve never felt so lost. I stumble toward him. Falling into the shelter of his arms, I hide my face against his chest, trying to blot out the violence around me. His heartbeat is fast and strong, and wrapped in the sound of it, I feel safer. “Help me, please,” I manage to say. Holding onto him with weak fingers, my knees buckle beneath me.
He picks me up. “I will, mo chroí. I’ll protect ye wi’ me life.” He turns us away from Tau and takes me down the hill to the faeries waiting for us.
Finn is at our side. His soul has merged with his Gancanagh body. He’s no longer undead; he has become a faerie once more. His white wings spread wide when he looks upon me. “Ye did it, Genevieve. Ye saved us.” The respect in his look just about breaks me. He goes down on his knee, bowing his head. All of the faeries except Brennus who holds me follow his action, getting on their knees. “We pledge our lives ta ye, me queen, for now and forever.”
When he rises, I can hardly see him through my tears. Brennus notices my distress. “I’ll take ye home now, if I may?” he asks.
I nod my head, unable to speak. Brennus gives a perfunctory nod, looking beyond me to Finn. “I’ll meet ye dere, brother.” Finn steps back from us. Brennus whispers a spell. A soft glow emits from us. The battered skyline with its smoke-filled night fades from view, gradually replaced by an elegant bedroom. It’s just the two of us. I hear movement in other parts of the building—the faeries are arriving home, but we’re alone on this floor.
He sets me on my feet. “Finn worked on yer room for ye. If ye do na like it, we can change it.”
The room is bright and timeless with a lovely bed all in white and two soft chairs that face a fireplace. Brennus waves his hand and the pile of logs in it catches fire. There’s a row of windows that show the fading light. Snow piles in waves on the windowsills. A full-length mirror nestles in the corner of the room. Brennus goes to a beautiful armoire. Finding a set of cotton pajamas, the kind I like, he brings it to the bed and lays it on the gorgeous coverlet.
“Do you know what they want us to do?” I ask.
He nods. “Atwater found me, jus after I transitioned back ta Faerie. He explained da path of redemption ta me.”
“Are you going to do it?”
“’Tis a chance for me ta right all dat I’ve done wrong, Genevieve. I’ll take it and be grateful. Will ye join me in it?” he asks.
“I will,” I murmur. “Do you…do you remember me?”
“I tink I remember everyting—whah happened while I was Gancanagh and whah happened ta me soul while I was in Sheol.”
“Is that good or bad?” I ask.
“Both. Ye need ta rest now. Can I help ye wi’ yer armor?” I nod, presenting my back to him. He brushes my hair from my nape, causing goose bumps to rise on my flesh. Magic glows from his hand as he runs his finger down the spine of my armor. It opens, revealing my skin beneath.
I shy away. Facing him, I say, “Thank you. I can manage the rest.”
He nods, my awkwardness making him smile. “As ye wish. Dere is a shower tru dere.” He indicates a door attached to the room. “’Tis a lot like Ireland.”
“It is,” I agree. I know he means the room, but I mean it all.
“Me room is next ta yers. We share dis wall,” he indicates the wall behind my headboard. “If ye need me, ye jus need ta call for me.”
“Thank you,” I murmur, holding the front of my armor. He nods. Without a word, he crosses the room to the door and leaves me alone. I walk to the bathroom. Peeling the black armor from me, clods of dirt fall off of it, scattering mud on the white tiles and bathmats. I leave it in a heap on the floor. I don’t cry when the water hits me. I’m too numb to think. Standing for what must be an hour under the shower, I let it keep the thoughts of Hell and loss from me. When the water starts to get cold, I shut it off. Finding a towel, I move back to the bedroom. The pajamas on the bed are perfect. I dry off quickly, and don them.
Sitting at the small vanity, I brush my hair. My hand stills with my brush in mid-stroke. I gaze at my reflection in the mirror. The low neckline of my cami-style top reveals my skin over my heart. Reed’s charcoal-colored wings are gone. My binding mark has been stripped from my flesh, leaving behind no indication that it ever happened—that Reed ever loved me. I set down the brush and rise from the vanity. Crawling into the enormous bed, I curl up in a ball and I grieve.