Heart racing, I turned to see Puck staring at me, lopsided smirk firmly in place. Tall and gangly, he looked the same as always, eager for trouble, forever ready with a sarcastic quip or witty comeback. But I saw the flicker of pain in his eyes, a glint of anger he couldn’t quite conceal, and it made my gut clench. “Hey, princess.”
“Hey,” I whispered, as Ash slipped his arms around my waist from behind, drawing me close. I could feel his glare aimed at Puck over my head, a silent, protective gesture that spoke louder than any words. Mine. Back off. Puck ignored him, gazing solely at me. In the shadow of his gaze, I remembered our last meeting, and the ill-fated decision that brought us here.
“MEGHAN CHASE!”
Oberon’s voice cracked like a whip, and a roar of thunder shook the ground. The Erlking’s voice was ominously quiet, eyes glowing amber through the gently falling snow. “The laws of our people are absolute,” Oberon warned. “Summer and Winter share many things, but love is not one of them. If you make this choice, daughter, the trods will never open for you again.”
“Meghan.” Puck stepped forward, pleading. “Don’t do this. I can’t follow you this time. Stay here. With me.”
“I can’t,” I whispered. “I’m sorry, Puck. I do love you, but I have to do this.” His face clouded with pain, and he turned away. Guilt stabbed at me, but in the end, the choice had always been clear.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered again, and followed Ash through the portal, leaving Faery behind me forever.
THE MEMORY BURNED like bile in my stomach, and I closed my eyes, wishing it didn’t have to be this way. I loved Puck like a brother and a best friend. And yet, during a very dark period when I was confused and lonely and hurt, my affection for him had led me to do something stupid, something I shouldn’t have done. I knew he loved me, and the fact that I’d taken advantage of his feelings made me disgusted with myself. I wished I knew how to fix it, but the barely concealed pain in Puck’s eyes told me no amount of words would make it better.
Finally, I found my voice. “What are you doing here?” I whispered, suddenly grateful for Ash’s arms around me, a barrier between me and Puck. Puck shrugged and rolled his eyes.
“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” he replied, sounding a bit sharper than normal. “After you and ice-boy got yourselves exiled, I was worried that the Iron fey were still looking for you. So I came to find out. Good thing I did, too. So, who is this newest Iron fey you pissed off? Glitch, was it? Machina’s first lieutenant—you sure know how to pick ’em, princess.”
“Later.” Grimalkin appeared from a shadow, bottlebrush tail waving in the wind. “Human, your attempted kidnapping has set off a riot among the New Orleans fey,” he announced, his golden eyes boring into me. “We should get moving before anything else happens. The Iron fey are coming for you, and I have no wish to do this entire little rescue again. Talk when we get to Leanansidhe’s. Let us go.”
He trotted down the street with his tail held high, pausing once to peer at us from the edge of an alley, eyes glowing in the darkness, before slipping into the black.
I slid out of Ash’s embrace and took a step toward Puck, hoping we could talk. I missed him. He was my best friend, and I wanted it to be like it was before, the three of us taking on the world. But as soon as I moved, Puck slid away, as if being near me was too uncomfortable to bear. In three long strides he reached the mouth of the alley, then turned to grin at us, red hair gleaming under the street lamps.
“Well, lovebirds? You coming or not? I can’t wait to see the look on Lea’s face when you both come strolling in.” His eyes glinted, and his grin turned faintly savage. “You know, I heard she does horrid things to those who annoy her. Here’s hoping she won’t rip out your guts and use them for harp strings, prince.” Snickering, he waggled his eyebrows at us and turned away, following Grimalkin into the shadows.
I sighed. “He hates me.”
Ash grunted. “No, I think that particular sentiment is reserved for me alone,” he said in an amused voice. When I didn’t answer, he motioned us forward, and we crossed the street together, coming to the mouth of the alley. “Goodfellow doesn’t hate you,” he continued as the shadows loomed dark and menacing beyond the street lamps. “He’s angry, but I think it’s more at himself. After all, he had sixteen years to make his move. It’s no one’s fault but his own that I beat him to it.”