Radiant Shadows (Wicked Lovely 4)

“I might as well be alone. You were absolutely no help when I wanted to attack her.” Ani glanced his way and bared her teeth. “You were useless. I ought to just leave you along the road somewhere. Maybe if we’d tried—”

“You would’ve been taken or killed.” He closed his eyes for three seconds, opened them, and tried to find a sentence that wouldn’t reveal how disquieting both of those possibilities were to him. He settled on, “This was the best decision. We need to keep moving, find a place reasonably free of faeries if we rest for long. Perhaps if we are gone, my sister will redirect her attention. She is not always constant in her interests, and there is much discord in Huntsdale to distract her.”

Ani was silent, staring ahead at the increasingly congested road in front of them. She downshifted and then slammed through the gears as she darted past a large truck. Devlin wondered what she’d have been like if she’d been raised by the Hounds. Her temper was less fierce than Hounds’, but her impetuousness was more extreme.

She broke the silence. “She asked me to kill Niall, and I considered it.”

His calm faltered. “You probably shouldn’t tell this to many people.”

“I know. I didn’t consider it much. Niall being gone would upset Iri.” She frowned. “I’m Dark Court so I should be okay with the murder thing, but even if it wouldn’t upset Iri, I don’t think I could kill Niall. He doesn’t deserve death.”

“Could you kill to protect Irial?” Devlin prompted.

“Sure.”

He continued, “Wouldn’t killing Niall be betraying your court?”

“I suppose so, but I never swore fealty. Hounds don’t. Mortals don’t.” She swerved into a minuscule space between two cars and then back out, passing a sports car going too slow for her taste. “He’s not really my king then, so I mean, technically—”

“You’re not really a mortal,” he interrupted. “Hounds are loyal. Irial has earned your loyalty, so your choices are perfectly rational and within the expected parameters for a Hound of the Dark Court.”

“Riiight. The parameters.” She pulled her attention from the road and scowled at him. “Your court must be a nonstop party.”

“Indeed.” Devlin couldn’t repress a smile at her fluctuating mood.

Ani directed the car onto an exit ramp without slowing. “Thing is, I’m trying to make sense of it, but the part I don’t get is that she wants me to kill Seth too.”

Devlin stilled. Of all of the things Ani could do, striking Seth would be one guaranteed to result in her death. Is this what Sorcha had foreseen? Devlin stared at Ani, pondering. She didn’t kill Seth though. If Seth was in danger, Devlin should return to Huntsdale. However, Seth was with Niall and Irial. It wasn’t as if he was unprotected—or defenseless in his own right. Sorcha wouldn’t see it that way, of course: Devlin’s failures to his queen were multiplying.

Midway through a sharp S-turn, Ani turned to look at him rather than the road. “Why kill Seth? You have the logic skills, so help me figure it out.”

“To increase hostilities,” Devlin murmured. “It’s why she does all that she does, to position us for greater discord.”

“And Seth is that important? Huh.”

As are you, Devlin thought, but couldn’t say aloud. Not to her. Not right now. Letting Ani know that she was important enough that the first two faeries both noticed her, that her death had been ordered, that her death was still very possible, that assuring her continued life had been his greatest betrayal—of both sisters—and a betrayal he would continue as long as possible… it all felt too weighty to say. Instead, he sat silently.

Ani slid into a parking space, and the engine cut off.

Outside the car, a bustle of mortals milled around at what the signs had proclaimed as a highway “rest stop.” No one appeared to be resting despite the early hour. Mortals walked over to nondescript buildings, returning with as little notice of the world as they had when they entered. A few faeries perched in the boughs of trees in a dusty area where some mortals let their pets relieve themselves. One black- and-white dog snarled at a rowan-man who swiped at it for trying to urinate on him.

“I’m stretching while you think or ignore me or whatever you’re doing.” Ani opened the door and left.

Which isn’t safe. He thought of the possibilities: of their being followed, of Sorcha—or Bananach—knowing that Ani was fleeing, of solitaries knowing she mattered, of random faeries trying to attack her because she was thought to be fair game. The world suddenly looked more menacing than it ever had before.

He was out of the tiny car and following her in a heartbeat, but she was already across the parking lot and headed into a building. She was Hound-fast, especially when displeased. He followed her through a heavy door—and was greeted by angry expressions from several mortal women and girls standing at a row of washbasins.

“Are you okay, sugar?” one older mortal asked Ani. The woman clutched a small black canister with a spray nozzle.

“Devlin.” Ani took his hand. She walked the several steps to the door. “You can’t follow me into the ladies’ room. Out.”

He looked around, assessing everyone in the room—most of whom were staring at him. He nodded. “I’ll be outside the door. If there is a danger—”

“I know.” Her voice was free of emotion, but the look in her eyes wasn’t. She was inordinately pleased by something.

While he pondered the curious way she looked at him, Devlin stood outside the washroom, positioning himself as close to the door as he could be without blocking it.

And he listened to the mortals talking to Ani.