“Alexis, this way,” the man in the rift yelled.

“No!” The queen’s voice cracked through the hall. “After them, all of you. Detain her.”

I whirled around. The queen’s ice guardians surged forward in force. Even the two that were holding Caleb released him to grab their swords and join the fray. Caleb looked at me, looked at the man in the rift, and then turned and fled in the opposite direction. I didn’t blame him.

More shadow wraiths flew out of the rift to hold off the fresh assault of ice guardians, but the ice guardians weren’t the only ones coming. Falin darted forward, parrying blows from the wraiths.

“Alexis, hurry,” the stranger said, holding out a hand. He was definitely no white knight here to save me, not with all his oiled black armor that nearly blended in with the shadows around him, but he was definitely rescue of some sort.

A sword passed through the air inches from my chest—and PC. The white crest of hair on the top of his head fluttered and he trembled. I have to get out of here. I glanced at the fae still extending his hand toward me. Well, the winter court was a bust for the accomplice and Holly anyway. Maybe I’d have better luck elsewhere. And maybe I can manage not to piss off the ruling regent.

Tucking PC under one arm, I gathered the skirt of my gown with the other hand, hiking it up to my knees, and then I ran for the rip. The man reached for me. I dropped my skirt and grabbed his hand just as someone grabbed my arm. The stranger hauled me forward, up and through the tear. The ice cavern vanished; the hand on my arm didn’t.

I stumbled into an enormous anteroom filled with giant gothic arches and spiraling columns. And Falin followed. The fae who’d pulled me through turned, leveling a sword that reflected no light, as if it were crafted of pure shadows. He swung at Falin, who jumped backward. Falin lifted two daggers long enough to be short swords.

I stepped between them, my back to Falin. His hands immediately closed on my arms, the flat of his blades pressing against my bare skin.

“Don’t hurt him.”

The stranger cocked his head. Then he turned toward the rift. “Now, boy,” he yelled, and a robed figure I hadn’t noticed standing to one edge of the tear stepped forward.

The figure was the size of a child, but that didn’t mean anything, as fae ranged in size from very, very small to enormous. He thrust his hands into the space on either end of the tear and seemed to grab the hole at the very edges. I stared, amazed, as he tugged the rip, closing it. The shadow court’s planebender? The tear was less than a foot wide when an ice guardian reached it. The guardian dove for the opening, his sword leading, pointed directly at the planebender.

“Down!” my rescuer yelled, charging forward.

The planebender hit the ground as a dark sword swung over his head, parrying the guardian’s blow. The stranger grabbed the ice wrist and shoved, trying to force the arm back through the opening while avoiding the frozen blade.

The planebender rose to a crouch and grabbed the edges of the tear again. I could feel the magic—not Aetheric energy but a magic that felt both foreign and extremely familiar. He tugged, forcing the tear around the guardian’s arm.

“Knight,” the queen’s voice said, cutting into the room through the still partially open rift. Falin cringed behind me. Crap. “Knight, capture the planeweaver and—”

A loud crack snapped through the air, followed by the sound of ice shattering. The queen’s voice broke off in midsentence, and the guardian’s arm, still clutching the sword, fell to the ground. It melted immediately, leaving only a large puddle behind the planebender, and the tear in Faerie knitted itself back together, closing without so much as a seam.

My jaw dropped. I could feel it hanging open in amazement, but I couldn’t seem to convince it to close. The planebender stood, dusting his hands on his trousers, and the stranger nodded at him.

“Well done,” he said affectionately and reached inside the hood as if tousling the wearer’s hair. There was no decay in Faerie, so I couldn’t glimpse anything under the shadowy cloak, not even a glimmer of his soul. The dark fae then touched the figure’s shoulder, and as if he’d been dismissed, the figure scurried away into the shadows. Then the fae turned back toward me. “Now what do we do with him?” He nodded over my shoulder at Falin.

Falin’s fingers tensed around my arms. He leaned forward until his lips were level with my ear. “My queen commanded I capture you and . . . I guess the ‘and’ is left to my discretion.” He made the last bit sound suggestive enough that heat rushed to my cheeks—and some lower places—despite my best intentions.

Damn. I’m supposed to be mad at him. I was mad at him.

The dark-haired fae glanced at Falin’s hands on my arms and then lifted his sword. “Release her. She is a guest of my court and under my protection. If the Winter Queen or her bloodied hands wish to have her against her will, you will have to go through me.”

Falin’s grip on my arms tightened and he dragged me back a step, but this time there was nothing suggestive to it. He cursed, his voice a low growl, and I could almost hear how hard his teeth gritted. Then he leaned in and whispered, “Alex, she commanded me to capture you. I can’t release you until you are either incapacitated or submit to being my prisoner.”

“Do no such thing, Alexis,” the dark armored fae said, jumping forward, his sword swinging. “I wear my own blood, boy. You’ll not find me an easy opponent.”

Falin lifted one of his large daggers to block the shadow sword and in the same movement swung me behind him. “I’ve no quarrel with you, Shadow King.”

King?

The other fae kept coming, his sword trailing darkness in its wake. “You threaten my own kin, so you most definitely have quarrel with me, boy.”

Kin?

“Stop. Both of you. Stop!” I didn’t step between them this time because their swords were just blurs as they moved and they seemed damn determined to kill each other and I wasn’t about to get in the middle of it. They didn’t stop at my words, so I said, “Falin, I submit. You captured me and I’m a prisoner or whatever.”

“Alexis, no,” the stranger said, his sword wavering for a single moment.

Falin took the moment to jump back, disengaging. He didn’t drop his blades, but he lifted his hands and turned his daggers sideways so that the edges and point were not aimed at the other fae. It wasn’t a surrender, simply a motion to cease the fight amicably. “Does this mean you forgive me?” Falin called back over his shoulder.

Did I forgive him? Probably not. I almost said as much, but then I realized what he was doing. If I forgave him, that enormous debt between us was mine to call him on.

The Shadow King glanced between us, his sword finally lowering as if he had just figured out what we were playing at. Falin nodded to him and lowered his weapons as well. He walked over, his blue eyes locked on me, cautious but expectant.

I felt the debt between us. It was still only potential. I couldn’t forgive him in words alone—I actually had to mean it. But could I forgive him? I considered what I’d seen in the halls of the winter court. He did as his queen commanded. He obeyed and came to her call, but he had no choice. Caleb had agreed that Falin had to obey. I could forgive him what he had no choice in. I nodded to him and felt the debt between us solidify.

“You owe me a favor,” I said, choosing my words slowly. “I’m your captive, but release me and your debt will be cleared.”

He winced and bowed his head. “I cannot grant you a favor that contradicts a direct order from my queen.”

Well, crap. Maybe I’d been wrong. Maybe he really only wanted to know I forgave him and it had nothing to do with the debt. He looked up at me again, and there were questions in the cool blue depths of his eyes, almost a plea. No, he wants me to ask him for something.

But what?

What would help me but not contradict the queen? He couldn’t release me, but she hadn’t given him the rest of her command, so what was he supposed to do with me next? Probably drag me back to the winter court. That would be bad.

“Fine,” I said. “I’m your captive, but I request that you not return me to the winter court.”

“Done.” He gave a sharp nod, relief smoothing the dip that had gathered above his nose. He looked up at the other fae. “Is that sufficient for you, Shadow King?”

“Quite.” The king sheathed his sword. “Now, my most darling Alexis, we have so much to discuss,” he said, walking toward me with his arms open as if he meant to hug me.

The Shadow King might have just rescued me from the winter court, but the old saying about frying pans and fire was how my life tended to go, so I wasn’t about to drop my guard. Or be hugged by a strange fae. I took a step toward Falin and the king stopped, frowning. The look he shot Falin was more than just unfriendly.

“I don’t welcome the Winter Queen’s bloodied hands into my court. You should go, boy,” he said.

I shrugged. “Point us to the exit.”

The king faltered, his handsome features showing true shock for a moment before he recovered. “But you’ve only just returned home, my dearest niece.”

Chapter 32

Home? And perhaps an even bigger question—“Niece?”

The Shadow King smiled, and while there seemed to be genuine affection in the expression, there was no softness. His handsomeness had a deadly edge to it so that even when he was relaxed, there was an alertness to his movements, the possibility of violence. “Actually, my great-grandniece, but such distinctions are tiresome. Kin is kin.”

I blinked at him and let PC slide to the ground. An uncle? The world seemed a little more out of focus than the moment before, even more unreal. I have an uncle? Well, a great-granduncle. I’d never known any of my extended family. My mother had died when I was young and my father refused to discuss the subject. Now I had an uncle. And he’s the king of a Faerie court.

“My father . . . ?”