Wicked Lovely (Wicked Lovely 1)

The other faeries dropped to their knees beside him in the dirty alley.

“My Queen.” Keenan let go of her other hand to reach up toward her face.

And she ran. She ran like she’d never run in her life, crushing the still-shimmering ice under her feet, fleeing the sunlight gleaming in Keenan’s skin.

Keenan knelt on the ground for several moments after Aislinn ran away. No one else rose.

“She left.” He knew he sounded weak, but he couldn’t find the strength to care. “It’s her, and she left. She knows, and she left.”

He stared down the alley where she’d vanished. She hadn’t moved as quickly as the fey, but she’d been moving far quicker than a mortal could. He wondered if she’d even noticed.

“Shall we retrieve her?” one of the rowan-men asked.

Keenan turned to Tavish and Niall. “She left.”

“She did,” Tavish said as he motioned the guards back.

They faded into the shadows, close enough to hear should they be summoned, but not so close that they’d overhear a softly spoken conversation.

Niall took Keenan’s arm. “Give her tonight to let it settle on her.”

Tavish moved to Keenan’s other side.

“She was going to think about it. She said that inside.” Keenan looked from Tavish to Niall and back. “She still will. She has to.”

Neither faery answered as they led him forward, his guards following behind them silently.

CHAPTER 25

The fairies, as we know, are greatly attracted by the beauty of mortal women, and…the king employs his numerous sprites to find out and carry [them] off when possible.

—Ancient Legends, Mystic Charms, and Superstitions of Ireland by Lady Francesca Speranza Wilde (1887)

Aislinn didn’t stop running until she was at Seth’s door. She pushed it open, calling his name, and stumbled to a stop when she saw the small crowd gathered there.

“Ash?” He was across the room and had her in his arms before she could think of what to say.

“I need…” She was still panting, her hair stuck to her face and neck. The noise of clinking bottles and moving bodies barely registered as she tried to catch her breath.

No one commented, or if they did, she didn’t hear it as Seth led her through the doorway to the second train car, where the tiny bathroom and his bedroom were. They stood in the hallway, outside the closed door of his room.

“Are you hurt?” He was running his hands over her arms, looking at her face and arms, checking for rips in the ridiculous clothes Donia had given her.

She shook her head. “Cold. Scared.”

“Take a shower. Warm up while I get rid of everyone.” He opened the door and turned on the little heater in the room. The soft whir filled the room as the heater started to glow.

She hesitated, and then nodded.

He kissed her briefly and left her there.

When Aislinn came out of the tiny bathroom, the house was silent; everyone was gone. She stood in the doorway—feeling safer now that she was here with Seth. Grams had done her best, but her fear of the faeries had made them too central—as if even the mundane things were somehow dependent on the faeries’ reactions.

Seth was stretched out on his sofa, his hands over his head, his feet dangling over the arm. He didn’t seem alarmed or even surprised by her panicked arrival.

Do I look different to him now?

She thought, invisible, and walked over to him. He didn’t get up, didn’t look at her, or speak.