A cool tide of relief washed over him. I can’t kill her.
One question down, nine to go. “Where was Sunday Lane during the attack?”
“She was trapped at the bottom of a pit.” A new image superseded the pixie, one of war and pain. As screams of fear and pain echoed, an emaciated woman with tangled red hair lay in a puddle of mud and filth, trying to dig her way out with hands tipped by bloody, broken nails.
When she shifted, he caught sight of her face and—
“Fuck!” William exploded from his chair. Once again, his heart pounded, and he heaved his breaths. The redhead was Sunny.
When he’d calmed—slightly—he plopped back into the chair. More information. Now.
Two questions down, eight remaining.
Teeth clenched, he asked, “Are unicorns capable of loyalty?” Is Sunny? With her dual nature, the woman wasn’t a single spice—she was the entire spice rack.
The pixie returned, telling him, “Oh, yes. But they are only loyal to those in their pack.”
Three down. He tossed his list, other questions already forming. “Are outsiders ever accepted into a pack?”
“At times, yes.”
He waited for the pixie to say more. She didn’t, and he ground his molars. Four down, and only six to go. “What are a unicorn’s most dominant personality traits?”
“When unicorns feel safe, they are playful. When fearful, they are violent. Always they are highly territorial and private. To protect their horns, they refuse to shift outside ceremonies and war. To defend their loved ones and homes, they will fight to the death. During mating season, they are highly sexual and desperate for a partner.”
Mating season? Two words, and yet he hardened in seconds. “When is mating season?”
“Starts in two weeks, and ends two weeks later.”
Two weeks. The exact time frame Keeley had given him. He bellowed another curse. Sunny was close to being “highly sexual and desperate for a partner” and he’d left her in a bunkroom with sixteen males who would no doubt kill to kiss those soft lips, knead those lush breasts and delve their fingers, tongues and cocks into that sweet little body.
For the thousandth time that day, fury scorched William’s veins. With every breath, air sliced at his lungs. If Sunny failed to decipher his book in the very short—too short—timeline, she would require a lover.
Who would she choose?
He grabbed the crystal and nearly hurled it into a wall, just to watch the pieces scatter. Instead, he asked his seventh question.
Harkening back to the pixie’s statement about unicorns and playfulness, and eager to see Sunny in such a state, he asked, “How can I make a unicorn feel safe?”
“Never lie. Never imprison. Never harm.”
Never imprison? Too late. How could he make her feel safe while imprisoned?
He wouldn’t ask. Only three questions remained. “How is Sunday Lane able to decode at a glance?”
“Magic,” the pixie told him. “Magic makes unicorns natural lie detectors—they see truth.”
Fascinating.
Only two questions left. Make them count. “Why does Sunny’s magic not affect me?”
The light dimmed, the pixie fading. He frowned. Did the crystal not know? Or were questions about William forbidden?
He frowned. “Am I truly cursed?” Nothing. “Do you know anything about Lilith’s curse?” Nothing. “What do you know about a Sent One named Axel?” Again, nothing. Now he scowled. “What else do you know about unicorn-shifters and Sunday Lane in particular?”
A new flare of light, the pixie reappearing. “Get past Princess Sunday’s defenses, and you will have a friend for eternity.”
His brows shot into his hairline. Princess Sunny? A royal?
When the pixie offered no more, he pursed his lips. “That’s it? That’s all you’ll tell me about her or all you know?”
She grinned slowly, a little wickedly, as adorable as the bride of Chucky. “No. I know more. And, yes, that is all I’ll tell you. And now your ten questions have been answered. I bid you farewell, William of the Dark.”
What! “I didn’t mean—” He pinched the bridge of his nose. Why argue with a beam of light that contained all knowledge of the universe? Manipulation on the other hand... “Go, then. Leave me unsatisfied with your response to my ninth question.”
She canted her head to the side. “Hades requested a report of everything you asked, and how I responded. Do you truly wish to learn more, knowing this?”
Should have known. Annoyance scraped at his insides. Still, he nodded. “Tell me.” The damage was already done.
“Princess Sunday is a vegetarian, flower petals her favorite meal...snack...and dessert. She can see auras. To her, to all unicorns, color—rainbows—equals life. With her dual nature, she is able to laugh one minute and savagely kill the next. She is stubborn and inquisitive, and she will not be easily seduced.”
William absorbed every tidbit, a sense of challenge growing. Not easily seduced? I’m ready to play the game, coach.
“That,” the pixie said, “is all I know.” As the light faded once again, she vanished for good, and he wondered what his distrustful, mulish and curious unicorn was doing right this second. Must know.
He jabbed at his computer keyboard, pulling up video feed of the bunkroom. Everyone but Sunny huddled around a single bed, whispering escape strategies. Where...where...there! But what the hell was she doing?
Zooming in. She sat at the edge of a bottom bunk, her head bent as she tore strips of cloth from the comforter to braid together.
There are no windows, yet she makes a rope?
Realization punched him in the throat. No, she’s making a noose.
Was she feeling frightened and violent, then? Because of me? Airways constricting, William picked up his cell phone and dialed Pandora, saying, “Bring me Sunny. And have Green deliver a bouquet of roses. And a sandwich. And chi
ps. And other side dishes.” Neither he nor the unicorn had eaten, so they might as well do it together while they had their chat.
One way or another, he and Sunny would come to an understanding. Today.
8
“Take what you want, when you want. I do.”
“Yo. Sunny Lane. You’re up.”
As Sunny’s bunkmates fell silent, she studied the speaker. Pandora stood inside a new portal. Behind her was a spacious living room with antique settees and side tables, a crystal chandelier and a finely detailed mural featuring naked females lounging on shells.
How perfectly William. Add some men to the mural, and you’d have Sunny’s decorative style, too.
The other codebreakers turned to stare at her, all but pointing.
She rolled her eyes. Throughout the day, Pandora had come and gone, escorting people to William one at a time. Everyone but Sunny. Whatever he’d done and said had filled her fellow prisoners with dread. Even Jaybird and Cash referred to him as a monster now.
Sunny had used the time to start an arsenal. Using pieces of wood she’d pulled from the bed frames, she’d already made a couple of shivs. At the moment, she crafted a trip wire with a noose at the end. If anyone approached her bed at any point during the night, they would hang for it.
“Is it my turn to speak with William?” A Q and A with the sexiest man alive sounded both terrible and wonderful, and she’d never anticipated and dreaded an activity more.
“It is.”
Nerves buzzing, Sunny stuffed her makeshift rope under a pillow, leaped from the bed and stalked over.
Pandora remained on the other side of the portal. “You look like hellebore.” She blinked. “Hell...bore. Hellebore. Sage! Freesia! Argh! Why can’t I cuss?”
So, the magic censor worked with William’s sibling, but not William himself. Why?
Unable to lie, Sunny did her best “who? what? me?” impression and shrugged, then walked through the portal. Huh. No tingles this time. Again, she had to wonder why.
As the doorway whooshed closed behind her, she breathed deep. Notes of ambrosia, whiskey, candle wax and...vegetables? Her stomach rumbled. Yesterday she’d eaten a handful of petals and leaves. Today? Nothing.