Court of Dreams (Institute of the Shadow Fae, #4)

by C.N. Crawford

“Just to be clear,” I said, “I’m not on your kill list?” His fierce expression made me catch my breath. “Of course you’re not. You should never have doubted me. I protect those I love. What sort of a person do you think I am?” His gaze flicked to the festering wound at my shoulder, and he winced. Ice shot through the air. “At least, I try to protect those I love.”

“You want me close by your side?” His eyes seared me for a moment, then he leaned closer. “By my side, in my bed,” he whispered, his breath warming the shell of my ear. “Naked and wrapped around me forever.”

He whispered into my ear, repeating his promise. “From now on, I keep you safe.”

Baleros’s twentieth law of power: Bring your enemy to you.

Aengus rolled his eyes. “Fine.” His tone was exasperated. “I’m sorry I said you were a traitor and that we should rip out your entrails in a painful execution. You’re still an abomination, though, and I make no apologies for that view.” His forehead wrinkled with consternation. “Is it just me, or are the youth of today particularly sensitive about things? Snowflakes, the lot of you.”

Baleros’s seventh law of power: Kill or be killed.

“Why did you lie to me again?” “Because I don’t want it to be true!” I hissed. “I don’t want to live in a world that you’re not in. You and I belong together. I am Death, but you give me life. Your loss would stop time and blacken the skies. Your death would be my apocalypse.”

“If you died, my soul would die, too, and I’d turn into that fucking thing. A creaking, empty, dead-eyed husk devoid of real life. Do you understand? So it won’t happen, because it can’t. I’m Death, and I say when the apocalypse happens. Fuck your grandpa. That’s it. End of story. Now let’s move on from that wooden weirdo, and have a normal, focused mission procuring a satyr cock, shall we?”

“What?” he barked. “You have to drink whiskey to fly? That’s a shit superpower.”

“I’ll distract them from above, and you run away.” “I’m not taking part in a plan that involves the phrase ‘you run away.’”

“There you are,” I said. “I love you. Even your ill-tempered side.” I’d never told him I loved him before. Now that it was out of my mouth, the terrible weight of those unspoken words had lifted off my chest. Now, I never wanted to stop saying it.

Baleros’s second law of power: Caring for others makes you weak.

I cupped his face in my hands and stared directly into his eyes. “And then after we kill Baleros, you will give me a crown of wildflowers, and I will marry you.” Silence fell. For a moment, my heart stuttered, unsure of how he would respond. Then, an expression I’d never seen on Ruadan’s face before—a completely unguarded smile. “Where I come from, females don’t propose marriages.” “Pretty sure that’s everywhere.” “But it’s fitting that you would ask me. And how could I refuse?”

My wings slid back into my body, and I pulled away from the kiss to look at Ruadan. He stared at me, stunned, irises black as pitch. “You brought me back.” “Baleros is dead. For good,” I murmured into his neck. “And we’re never again going to part.”