I held my breath as I followed the stag through my suite then into the guardroom. I could hear Finn rattling around in his kitchen, and figured he was making breakfast. I hoped the Erlking’s charm worked the way he said it did, because I was going to hate it if I ended up having to explain myself to Finn.
The stag continued into the guardroom with no hesitation, and I forced myself to follow. Finn was frying something on his hot plate—he didn’t have a stove—and he looked as awake and alert as if it were the middle of the afternoon. I kept expecting him to look up and see me, but he didn’t. The stag walked right past him to the front door, then passed through the door as if it weren’t there. I suppressed a shiver.
Keeping an eye on Finn, I eased the door open. He paid no attention, and I wondered what the chances were that this was all a dream.
I belatedly realized I should have grabbed a flashlight. The tunnels were pitch-black, and even if the stag could lead me through the dark, I’d probably die of terror before we reached the surface. I turned to duck back into the guardroom to get a flashlight.
Tap, tap, tap.
I looked at the stag, wondering if it would have the patience to wait for me—and if Finn would see me if I went back in without it. But when I took a closer look, I saw that the stag was glowing faintly, a blue-white light like a little star. It started trotting down the tunnel, its light brightening as it moved farther away from the light that poured out of the guardroom.
“This has got to be the world’s worst idea,” I muttered to myself as I eased the door closed and plunged into the darkness after the Erlking’s charm.
The stag’s glow was barely enough to guide the way. I’d seen night lights brighter than that. I walked as close to it as I could, my eyes straining in the oppressive darkness. The tunnel floor was mostly smooth, but the dark messed with my depth perception and I tripped about a million times.
When we’d been in my safe house, the stag had waited for me, however impatiently, but once we’d turned a couple corners in the tunnels, it picked up the pace. I think it knew I was fully committed to following it now, since my alternative was to try to find my way back to the safe house through the pitch-black tunnels. Even when I tripped so bad I almost did a face-plant, the stag kept going. I climbed to my feet in a hurry, desperate to stay close to my only source of light.
Eventually, we ventured out into the more commonly used tunnels with their electric lighting. I breathed a sigh of relief, even as the stag picked up its pace a little more. I didn’t need its light anymore, but I wasn’t finding the Erlking’s house on my own, so I hurried to keep up.
Avalon is a pretty weird place, but even here a tiny animated statue trotting along would attract notice, so when the stag managed to walk past people without them paying any attention, I knew its magic was working. Trying not to feel like there were neon signs pointing to me saying “fresh meat,” I continued to follow.
There weren’t a whole lot of people out at this hour, although the streets weren’t completely deserted, either. But even after we left the tunnel system, no one seemed to notice us. It was wet and drizzly out, although not enough to make me use the umbrella, which I kept shifting from hand to hand as I warmed the free hand in my pocket.
The dampness added bite to the early morning chill, and by the time the stag bounded up a flight of four stone stairs to a covered stoop, my teeth were chattering, and I suspected my lips were tinged blue. I was not looking forward to seeing what Avalon was like in the winter. But, I reminded myself cheerfully, I might not live that long anyway.
I would have liked to have taken a moment to collect myself before ringing the doorbell, but I didn’t have that chance. Before I’d even reached the top step, the door swung open. I came to a screeching halt and was lucky I didn’t fall back down the stairs and break my neck.
The Erlking was dressed a little less outlandishly than usual today, in a pair of tight-fitting black leather pants and an untucked black button-down shirt that shimmered faintly in the light. His hair was loose around his shoulders, except for two thin braids that framed his face. If he weren’t the stuff of nightmares, I’d think he was seriously hot.
He smiled at me, then crouched and reached out his hand to the stag. It leapt onto his palm, and he stood up, closing his hand around the little statue. I remembered the sharpness of the antlers and wondered how the Erlking managed to hold it without drawing blood.
When he was fully upright again, the Erlking opened his hand; there was no longer a statue in it. Instead, there was a delicate silver brooch in the shape of a leaping stag. It didn’t exactly match the Erlking’s mark, but it was close.
“My gift to you,” he said, raising his hand and indicating I should take the brooch.
Of course, I hesitated. I had no desire to take anything from him, much less something that was basically his emblem.
One corner of his mouth tipped up in a half smile. “You do not have to wear it. But there may be times you will find it useful.” He turned the brooch over, showing me the pin. “If you need to make yourself unseen, prick your finger on this.” He touched the point, and a spot of blood beaded on his fingertip. “The spell will wear off in thirty minutes, but while it’s active, no one will see, hear, or feel you, even if they bump into you.” He put his finger into his mouth, sucking off the little drop of blood, and held the brooch out to me again.
I still didn’t want to take it, but I didn’t think he’d take it kindly if I refused. I picked it up gingerly, as if afraid it would bite, then stuffed it into the pocket of my jeans. If he thought I was going to thank him for his nice gift, he was sorely mistaken.
He opened the door wider. “Come in, come in,” he said. “You must be cold.”
The power of suggestion had my teeth chattering again, and I stepped into the Erlking’s house. I had to stop myself from gawking as soon as I did. House wasn’t the right word for the building I’d stepped into. Palace probably fit it better, though it was like no palace I’d ever seen.
The floor of the entryway was black marble, shiny as glass, not a scuff mark in sight. The walls were covered in black and silver–striped wallpaper that had the texture of raw silk. From the ceiling hung faceted crystals in varying shapes and sizes, so dense it was impossible to see the source of the light that shone from behind them. The Erlking reached up and brushed his fingers over the crystals, showing off that he was tall enough to reach the ceiling. The crystals clinked together like wind chimes, the sound echoing off the marble.
Past the foyer, the ceiling rose up into a dome, painted night-black and dotted with tiny white lights like stars. A grand staircase like you might see in Gone with the Wind led to a second-floor balcony, almost completely hidden in shadow. The inside of this building seemed a lot larger than the outside had indicated, and the shadowed hallways upstairs made it seem positively vast.
“Cozy,” I muttered under my breath, and the Erlking smiled.
“This is home to myself and all of my Huntsmen whenever we are in Avalon. Cozy would not suit us.”
My heart leapt at the realization that Ethan must be here, hidden in the depths of this house. I wondered if he was installed in a comfortable room somewhere, or if he and the rest of the Huntsmen resided in some old-fashioned, cramped servants’ quarters up in the rafters. It then occurred to me that for all I knew, the Erlking kept them chained in a dungeon, and I decided to abandon that line of thought.
The Erlking led me down a long marble hallway and into a room that I suspected he called a “parlor.” Like everything I had seen so far, it was decorated entirely in black and silver, and if it weren’t for the color of the Erlking’s skin and eyes, I might have wondered if I had suddenly been struck color blind.
I shivered again, the chill having sunk all the way down to my bones. The Erlking frowned, then gestured to the fireplace, which suddenly burst into flame. I jumped, then blushed at my reaction. Duh, magical, mythical creature can do magic! What a surprise.
“Come sit by the fire and warm up,” he said, gesturing me toward an armchair covered in black silk with silver embroidery. “I will have some coffee brought in.” He grinned at me, his eyes glittering in the firelight. “You are not overly fond of tea, I hear.”
I stiffened, knowing exactly where he’d gotten that little bit of knowledge. “Thanks,” I said through gritted teeth. I hated to show that he’d wounded me, but my emotions were too raw to hide. I turned my back to him so he couldn’t see my face, and I headed toward the chair as I tried to compose myself.
When I sat down, the Erlking took the other seat in front of the fire, pulling a small ebony table over so that it sat between us. Footsteps echoed in the hall behind me, and I turned to see who was coming. But the predatory look in the Erlking’s eyes told me everything I needed to know, even before Ethan turned the corner and stepped into the room.
He was dressed like a Huntsman now, wearing nothing but black, head to toe. The Erlking’s mark stood out starkly against his pale skin. In his hands, he carried a silver tray on which sat a tea set. He met my eyes briefly, and the despair in his expression sent a sharp pain knifing through my heart—just as the Erlking no doubt planned.
Ethan broke eye contact, then braced the tray with one arm and began unloading the tea service onto the table. I could feel the Erlking watching me, soaking in my pain. I tried my best to keep my expression neutral, but I doubt I managed it.
Ethan took one last item off the tray and held it out to me. It was a mug of coffee, just as the Erlking had promised. I tried to catch Ethan’s gaze again, hoping I could convey to him without words that I was going to get him out of here. Somehow. But he kept his head bowed and wouldn’t look at me.
“That’s all,” the Erlking said. “You may go.”
I hated to let Ethan out of my sight, but it wasn’t like I had a choice. I held on tightly to the mug of coffee he’d handed me, and that helped me resist the urge to reach out and grab him, keep him from leaving.
Still refusing to look at me, Ethan bowed to the Erlking, then left the room. I heard the Erlking fixing himself a cup of tea, but I couldn’t bear to look at him, afraid of what he might see in my face.
“He is unharmed,” the Erlking said softly, drawing my eyes to him against my will. “Unhappy, but unharmed.” There was sympathy and sadness in those ancient blue eyes, but I didn’t believe it.
“Whenever you’re finished rubbing it in, can we talk about what I have to do to get Ethan back?”
He raised his eyebrows in what looked like surprise. “I’m not ‘rubbing it in,’ as you put it. I was pointing out to you that he is unharmed. That was meant to be comforting.”
I snorted. “Yeah, right.”
He leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs, holding the delicate black china teacup in his lap. “Believe me or not, as you will. As you are so impatient to begin our negotiations, please do tell me what you propose.”
I took a deep breath, gathering the scattered remnants of my courage. It was vital that I phrase everything just right. Kimber and I both believed whatever agreement I made with the Erlking would be enforced by magic, so I had to be very careful to leave myself room to maneuver.
“My father told me that you and the Faerie Queens were at war once,” I said, starting slowly.
The Erlking cocked his head at me. I supposed he was trying to guess where I was going with this. “We were. But that was a long, long time ago. Our relations have been peaceful for many centuries.”
“Because of the agreement you reached with them. The one that keeps you from hunting the Fae unless the Queens give you permission.”
Understanding dawned in his eyes, and he laughed softly. “You’re planning to offer me an alternative to taking me out into the mortal world, as opposed to negotiating guidelines for my hunts there.”
“Yeah, that was the idea,” I said. Because no matter how bad I felt for Ethan, I still couldn’t unleash the Wild Hunt on the mortal world.
The Erlking nodded and put his teacup down, sitting up straighter. “Tell me exactly what it is you propose.” I couldn’t read the expression on his face. Perhaps it was eagerness, but it might just as easily have been skepticism.
I spoke slowly and carefully when I answered. “One of a Faeriewalker’s abilities is to carry technology into Faerie. My aunt Grace wants to kidnap me so she can use a gun to kill the Seelie Queen and take the throne.”
The Erlking nodded, like that was common knowledge. “Yes. A mortal bullet can kill even a Faerie Queen.”
“What about you?” I blurted, the words completely unplanned.
He smiled at me. “If I could be killed by a mortal bullet, you can hardly expect me to tell you that, can you?”
I felt the color burning in my cheeks. Way to make yourself sound like a moron, Dana.
“But in answer to your question,” he continued, “no, I cannot be killed by a mortal bullet. Many have tried, and yet here I am.”
He could be lying through his teeth, of course. Like he said, if a mortal bullet could kill him, he wouldn’t run around advertising it. Then again, he’d obviously hunted in Avalon before it seceded from Faerie, and it was hard to believe his human quarry had never tried to shoot him, in self-defense if nothing else.
“Your proposal is that you’ll ride with me into Faerie, allowing me to use a gun to kill the Queens and thereby remove the geis they have put upon me. Is that correct?”
I suppressed a shudder and forced myself to meet his eyes with all the sincerity I could project. “Basically.”
The idea was risky in the extreme. If I did this, and the Erlking was freed from his geis, it wouldn’t put anyone in the mortal world in danger, but the Fae would be sitting ducks. Which was why I had to be so careful how I worded our agreement, because I had every intention of making sure whatever gun the Erlking brought with him into Faerie wasn’t in working order. Kimber had assured me that magical bindings were very literal. If I was bound to help the Erlking take a gun into Faerie, then as long as I helped him take a gun, I was in the clear. There was no requirement that it be a working gun.
I was practicing in my head how I was going to phrase my formal offer when the Erlking made it a moot point.
“It’s a clever offer,” he said with a nod of approval. “It requires me to work for my ultimate goal, in a task that would be difficult even with mortal weapons, and if I succeed, it is not your own people who will suffer for it.” He grinned. “The Fae can fend for themselves, eh?”
I raised my chin and tried not to flinch. I knew the offer was going to end up making me sound pretty callous, like I couldn’t care less what happened to the Fae because they weren’t “my people.” But I needed the Erlking to believe I was really that callous so he wouldn’t suspect me of a trick.
The Erlking shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. The answer is no.”
“What?” Of course I’d always known he might refuse, but I thought there’d been at least a chance of success. And I certainly hadn’t expected him to dismiss it without even trying to negotiate.
“I have no quarrel with either Mab or Titania,” he said. “The agreement we three reached was mutually advantageous, even if onlookers cannot guess what advantage I might have gained.”
I was struck speechless by the Erlking’s instant refusal. My heart sank. That had been my one and only idea of what I could offer the Erlking in place of what he wanted. Tears welled in my eyes despite my best efforts to hold them back.
The Erlking reached over the tea tray to put his hand lightly on my wrist. I’d have pulled away if the despair weren’t weighing me down so heavily.
“Don’t cry,” he said, and he brushed his thumb over the back of my hand. “All is not yet lost. I have a counteroffer for you.”
His words were enough to rouse me from my stupor, and I finally pulled my hand out from under his, the motion so sudden I spilled the mug of untouched coffee in my other hand. The Erlking rose to his feet and plucked the coffee mug out of my hand, laying it on the table. Then he knelt in front of me, and there was a handkerchief in his hand—I had no idea where it had come from. He started dabbing at the wet spot on my jeans.
His touch was impersonal, his movements brisk and businesslike, nothing sexual or otherwise inappropriate. Still, the feel of his hand on my thigh was … disconcerting.
“I’ll do that,” I said, reaching for the handkerchief, half expecting him to insist on doing it himself. But he let me have the handkerchief.
“Did you burn yourself?” he asked, sitting back on his heels.
I shook my head, embarrassed at my overreaction to his touch. He wasn’t being threatening, and he wasn’t trying to be seductive. No big deal.
And yet somehow it felt like a big deal, and the hair on the back of my neck prickled. I tried to shake the feeling off.
“What is this counteroffer of yours?” I asked.
He gave me a look I can only describe as assessing, then rose to his feet and grabbed the chair he’d been sitting in, pulling it around the table so it was facing me. Then he sat down, his legs barely an inch from mine.
I fought the urge to sink back into my chair. He was so big it would have been hard not to be intimidated by him even if I didn’t know who—and what—he was. I met his eyes and was surprised to see how much warmth existed in that cold blue. Maybe he couldn’t help being intimidating, but he was trying hard not to be.
“I’ll warn you in advance that my proposal is nothing you are expecting,” he said, “and that it will both frighten and discomfit you.”
Oh, great. Like I needed to be even more frightened and uncomfortable than I already was. “All right, you warned me. Now what is it?”
His eyes seemed to bore into me. “I will release Ethan from the Wild Hunt. If in turn you will pledge to give me your virginity.”