Prince of Air and Darkness (The Darkest Court)

“Don’t,” I command. “Retaliating without the Pantheons’ approval could set off another Faerie Civil War.”

A ripple of magick. It’s ancient, strong, and reminds me of the shocking power of a gust of wind from an unexpected direction.

“I am not your subject,” she growls.

I lift my chin and hold her glare. “But Ripthorn is,” I tell her. “One escalation leads to another.” And then, softly, just to her, “I can’t risk making worse for the next faerie.”

Her nostrils flare and her magick swells, growing until I fear she’ll shift right here. I don’t want to fight a dragon today. The urge to reach into my glamour for my sword, to prepare my defense thrums through me. I ignore it. Réka isn’t reacting to me...she’s reacting to the pain she feels on Ripthorn’s behalf.

This is what love does to us.

What fools we are.

Only my understanding stays my hand from my sword’s grip. And I hate the woman for reminding me why.

“I’ll take this to Dean Tanaka.” With this news, he’ll make time for an appointment with me whether he wants to or not. “The Pantheons will probably want to interview you since you were injured in a neutral zone. Mother or I will be present with you.”

I stand, wishing I had something better to offer than diplomatic words. “I’m so sorry this happened to you. If you need anything else,” I tell him, writing my cell’s number on a scrap of paper on the

desk.

Réka rises and escorts me to the door. I’m not surprised when she follows me out into the hall. To avoid the lecture she’s probably been preparing for our moment alone, I cut her off with “Thank you for taking care of him.”

She opens her mouth, likely to rationalize it away, but I wave a hand. “He’s relaxed with you. He feels safe. My subjects’ safety matters to me. So, thank you.”

One second. Two. Three. Réka’s shoulders drop. “You’re welcome.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help him last night.” The admission scrapes its way out of my throat.

“You’re here now. It’s enough.”

I wish that were true.

Once I get outside the dorm, I summon one of our ravens and send a message to my mother. Neutrality broken. Meeting with Tanaka tonight.

There. That should catch her attention well enough. I watch the bird disappear into the darkening twilight, its blackness blending into the star-speckled sky. The temptation to give in to my mind’s desire to escape, to allow my body to scatter into ravens, to become fractured wholes that weave and bob and dart through the air calls. Free. The only freedom I ever have.

No time. I need to meet with the registrar. Get back to the apartment. Wait for Mother’s reply. Write up reports and draft declarations. Email my professors. Buy my damn textbooks.

And yet, despite the growing list of things I need to accomplish, guilt sticks in the back of my throat, threatening to suffocate me. Ripthorn was so close to where Smith and I fought the wraith. If I knew, could I have made the right choice? Could I have exchanged Ripthorn’s safety for Smith’s?

I know what my answer to that question should be. Despite that, the truth will linger in the back of my mind all day.

* * *

Mother doesn’t contact me until the evening. The moment her pale, perfect reflection appears in the still water of the scrying bowl on my dresser, her expression twists into a frown.

“What on earth is that noise?”

That noise would be the raucous gathering occurring in the shared living room beyond my closed bedroom door. The thin wood doesn’t eliminate the laughter or the scent of pizza that slips through the gap near the floor, but it’s better than no barrier between us.

“My roommates,” I tell her. I roll my head from side to side, wishing I could unkink my shoulders. Cheese and sauce and pepperoni. My stomach growls, but I’ll eat later. Talk now, catch Dean Tanaka after dinner as his secretary suggested, meet personal needs once business is finished.

“They should be quieter,” she says. The edges of the bowl frost, but the lack of ice means she’s merely irritated by their behavior.

“Mother, I share this apartment. After five years, it’s nothing new. Besides, if they’re loud, I know they aren’t listening in.”

She moves on, which is as close to acceptance for my reasoning as I’ll ever get. “How do you intend to approach your dean tonight?”