How the heck did I find the Unseelie Mer here? And here was a whole ocean to search.

  I knelt at the water and stuck my hand in, calling upon my seeker sense. I tried to find any hint of a prize, or even the Unseelie Mer themselves, but nothing came to me.

  A moment later, a head popped up through the surface.

  A beautiful girl blinked at me. “What are you doing?”

  I stood and frowned. Her golden hair wafted in the water, and her skin was tinged slightly green. Slits at her neck indicated gills. “Are you an Unseelie Mer?”

  She gasped, clearly offended. “I am not.”

  “I’m sorry.” I held up my hands. “Apologies.”

  “Those sorry excuses for Merfolk live in the dark lake farther inland. We drove them from the ocean generations ago, after they levied an attack against our people.”

  “Wait, what? They don’t live in the ocean.”

  She scoffed. “Of course not.”

  The king had lied to me. Or he hadn’t known.

  I’d put my money on lie.

  The bastard.

  Why?

  “Are you looking for the Unseelie Mer?” Her brow wrinkled.

  “Not precisely.” I explained the riddle to her that the seer had told me.

  “Well, I don’t know anything about that, but I can give you some advice if you like.”

  “Okay?”

  “Payment first.”

  “What do you want?”

  “What do you have?” Her eyes glittered keenly.

  “Weapons. Potions.”

  “Ohhhh, I’m quite keen on the sparkly bits.”

  “Well, let’s see, then.” I drew my shiniest silver dagger from the ether. It was inset with a bright red gem.

  She grinned widely. “I like that.”

  “It’s yours for info about the Unseelie Mer.”

  “You’ll need to be careful. Do not go in the water.”

  “Why not?”

  “It would be a declaration of war for any Fae to enter the realm of the Unseelie Mer.”

  “I’m not Fae.”

  She tilted her head to the side. “You’re not?”

  “No.”

  “Hmmm. Then I suppose you won’t be declaring war. But do not look directly into their eyes, or they will enchant you into becoming their wife.”

  “A literal fishwife?”

  She laughed, then scowled. “Don’t joke. They are dangerous. If you make eye contact, they will drag you down and you will become bride of the deep.”

  Yeah, no thanks. Not for me. “I appreciate the info. Do you know how I would find their lake?”

  She pointed to something behind me. “Go stand on that hill, then you will see it.”

  “Thank you.” I trusted her. More than the king, at least. I handed her the blade.

  She admired it briefly, then looked up. “Remember. No eye contact.”

  “Got it.”

  She waved, then popped back under the water.

  I transported to the hill she’d pointed to, and almost immediately, my gaze caught on a patch of dark water in the distance. It was a huge lake, the top shining black and bright in the sunlight.

  “That’s got to be it.” I ran down the hill, racing for the pond. Wind began to blow, fierce and strong. My hair whipped in the wind and my eyes stung from the howling gale. I bent low against it and plowed on.

  There was no rain—not even any clouds—but the wind was fierce.

  Where the hell had it come from?

  I squinted my eyes nearly closed and kept on plowing forward, barely able to move as the wind shrieked by me.

  What the hell was this?

  I squinted left and right to see if the trees in the distance were shaking. They weren’t—it was only blowing on me.

  I caught sight of a figure far in the distance, tall and strong. He had jet black hair, and his strong arms crossed over his chest as he watched.

  Tarron.

  He was Fae. He could control the elements, wind included.

  Was this bastard doing this to me?

  Son of a bitch.

  No more running for me.

  I called upon my magic, letting the ether suck me in and drag me through space. A moment later, I appeared at the edge of the lake. The dark water wasn’t black, as I’d expected, but rather a clear dark blue.

  I turned to look for Tarron. He’d disappeared. I shook my head, irritation flickering inside me.

  Carefully, I inspected the pond. There was a key here, but it might not appear as a key. I walked around the perimeter, searching intently. A moment later, I spotted a glow deep in the water. Important things glowed in this competition.

  I toed off my boots and began to shuck off my clothes. I could feel the prickle of magi that meant the spectators were watching. Well, I was going to give them an eyeful, because I didn’t want to run around in wet stuff this whole time. I left only my bra and panties. Then I waded into the lake, shivering at the cold.

  There was no way this was going to be a nice, easy swim. I’d never really liked the water either.

  I charged in anyway, ready to get it over with. When I was up to my waist, I sucked in a deep breath and dived deep. Cold water closed over my head, and I opened my eyes to see an emerald green world. Weeds waved in the beams of sunlight, and silver fish darted.

  I kicked deeper, headed toward the golden glow at the bottom. The weeds slipped by my skin as I swam. Fear pierced me at the idea that they might wrap around me, but they just waved peacefully in the water.

  I was nearly to the golden object when a figure flashed by to the right. Out of the corner of my eye, I could just barely make out that it was roughly human shaped, though it did have a fin. Scales covered the rest of its body, along with a fringe of spines along the back.

  I diverted my eyes, keeping them glued on the object. Water pressure distorted my vision, so it was impossible to see exactly what it was.

  My lungs burned as I went deeper. The figure flashed by to the left again. Closer this time. My heart thundered into my lungs. The thing brushed against my side, and I nearly screamed.

  I called on a dagger from the ether and gripped it in my hand as I swam deeper. It was the iron blade, the one that I’d hidden and retrieved. The Finfolk were a type of Fae, and I was here to win.

  When the hand grabbed my arm, horror shot through my chest. I did not like the water, and this wasn’t helping. I lashed toward the hand, stabbing down with my blade. It plunged into the arm, and the creature hissed loudly, yanking its limb back.

  Through squinted eyes, I barely caught sight of a broad face and distinct gills. There was a flash of yellow eyes, but I squeezed mine shut immediately.

  Don’t make eye contact.

  I waved the blade in front of me, a threat of iron, then spun back toward the key and kicked for it. I opened my eyes just enough to see the golden glow and make sure I was on track.

  Finally, I reached it and grabbed the tiny golden disk. I couldn’t swim with my dagger and the disk gripped in both hands, so I shoved the disk in my sports bra, which was big enough and tight enough to contain the little object.

  With the key safely in place, I turned to swim back to the surface.

  And came face-to-face with a waiting Unseelie Mer.

  The creature’s yellow eyes caught mine, and I stared, unable to look away. I could feel the hilt of my dagger in my hand, but couldn’t make myself use it.

  The creature reached for me with a rough green hand and grabbed my arm, pulling me deeper into the water. His touch snapped me back to attention, and I struggled, trying to break free. But my movements were too weak, as if part of me wanted to go with him. My body fought my mind.

  No!

  I screamed, bubbles escaping my mouth. It took everything I had to curl myself forward and slash my blade at his scaled green torso, but I was too slow. He was an acrobat in the water, and now that he knew I held iron, he was fast.

  My blade swiped through a weed, missing the creature entirely. My lungs burned with pain I’d never felt before. I thrashed and struggled, but couldn't break free.

  There was a flash of movement in front of me. A person.

  Tarron.

  He kicked toward the Unseelie Mer, breaking the creature’s grasp on me. The king grabbed my arm and kicked toward the surface. I helped, using the last of my energy. My head broke through to the air and I gasped.

  “Come on!” The king’s grip tightened on my arm, and he dragged me to shore. I kicked from behind him, weak and exhausted. I couldn’t feel the prickle of magic that indicated that the spectators were watching, which meant he’d blocked their vision.

  I crawled onto the shore, gripping my blade tight. The king bent down and swept me into his arms. His horns were out, sweeping back along the side of his head, and his eyes were a deep jet black. Fangs flashed in his mouth. The iron of my blade brushed his skin, and he hissed, jerking harshly.

  “Steel?” His angry eyes met mine.

  “I didn’t bring it to your realm.” I coughed, my lungs burning.

  Tarron’s grip was warm and strong, tethering me to consciousness as I dragged in unsteady breaths.

  “Then how did you get it? It is forbidden!”

  “I hid it outside of the entrance to your realm. When the carriage passed by, I collected it. I guess no one was watching.” I frowned at him. “And I’m glad I had it. It stopped the Unseelie Mer.”

  “The first time, maybe. Then I had to come and get you.”

  Finally, it dawned on me. “You…did. Why? You tried to stop me from getting here, but then you saved me.”

  “You were going to die. I couldn’t let you.”

  He looked almost confused when he said it, and he sounded agonized. He’d been compelled to save me.

  Because I was his Mograh.

  Which he didn’t realize because of the spell I’d done.

  He was going to be pissed when he figured it out.

  I met his gaze. “But isn’t that an act of aggression against the Unseelie Mer for you to enter their waters?”

  He set me on the ground, farther up from the water’s edge. Gently, he gripped my shoulders to make sure that I was standing steady. “We’ll see.”

  My gaze moved to the space beyond him. Three heads had appeared on the surface, each greener and uglier than the last. Fins surrounded their skulls like hair, and gills decorated their necks.

  I looked away from the yellow eyes. “Look behind you.”

  The king turned. “Damn it.”

  11

  Tarron stalked toward the Finfolk. His horns disappeared as he neared them, and I had a feeling that was an attempt at diplomacy.

  Still shaking, I scrambled into my clothes. Before I zipped up, I confirmed that the golden charm was still wedged in my bra. I left it there, since it was the safest place, then stole glances at Tarron and the Finfolk.

  They’d climbed out of the water onto sturdy legs. Their fins must have shifted, because I swore they’d had mermaid tails before.

  Their posture was aggressive, but so was Tarron's. He’d only been willing to go so far with the diplomacy, it seemed.

  He risked death to save me.

  But then, he’d also tried to stop me from continuing in the competition. Between the howling gale and the lies, he’d actively tried to keep me from going any farther and getting the key.

  He could have just let me die, and that would have finished the job nicely. But he hadn’t been able to.

  They spoke for five minutes, and each one crawled by. Finally, Tarron disappeared. The FinFolk gave me one last look, then returned to the water.

  Well, shit.

  That was that.

  I turned and looked for a stone circle. It was nowhere to be seen.

  There had to be multiple circles in an area so rich with history, but I’d definitely be looking for the biggest.

  I called upon my seeker sense. As usual, it was weak. A bit of amplifying power made it stronger, but even then, I only got the slightest hint that I should go west. I looked up at the sky. My cell phone battery was dead after a full day in the Fae realm without power outlets, so I’d have to use the sun to measure time.

  It was late afternoon, which meant there were at least twelve hours yet before sunrise. Given how big the glen of Kilmartin was and the fact that I was standing roughly in the middle, it was probably better to save my magic and walk. At least until I caught sight of the circle and could transport directly there instead of wasting my magic popping in and out of the ether to look for it. I’d already used it plenty.

  Toward the west, I spotted a steep hill. It was only a mile away, at most.

  I strode across the field. As I walked, the thorn wolf appeared at my side, strolling along.

  “Hey, guy.”

  He woofed a greeting and trotted at my side.

  I reached the steep hill, which seemed to jut out of the earth like a huge rocky castle. I began to climb, weaving my way past pink and blue flowers. I passed ancient broken walls and a deep hole that had probably been a well.

  This had to be a hill fort with the castle long destroyed.

  Wind tore at my hair when I reached the top, so strong that it nearly bowled me over. I tucked myself deeper into my short leather jacket and tried to ignore the chill.

  From up there, I could see the entire glen. Almost immediately, my gaze landed on a huge stone circle, right next to a thick patch of trees.

  “There it is.” I pointed.

  The wolf rumbled low in his throat, agreeing.

  I looked down at him. “What should I call you?”

  He just stared at me.

  “Bruce?”

  He shook his head.

  “Pete?”

  He shook again.

  A word popped into my head. Burnthistle. “Is your name Burnthistle?”

  His tongue lolled out in a smile.

  “That’s a mouthful. But okay, Burnthistle is cool. “Strange but cool. You do you, doggo.”

  He woofed.

  “But it really is a mouthful. Would you want to be Burn for short?”

  He woofed again.

  “Let’s call that a yes.”

  His tongue lolled out in a smile.

  “Let’s get moving, then.” I climbed back down the hill and jumped over the broken walls to take a shortcut.

  It didn’t take long to reach the stone circle, which was constructed of thirteen towering stones that were decorated with the same pockmarks and concentric circles that I’d seen earlier on the flat stone that Burn had led me to. The diameter of the circle was probably about thirty feet across, and in the middle stood the tallest stone of all.

  I hesitated at the outside of the ring. Magic sparked from within, both welcoming and repellent. It was the strangest combination, like hot and cold.

  Burn disappeared, going wherever it was that he went.

  “Now or never.” I approached the circle.

  There were still hours left—a whole night—before it would open. But I had to figure out where to put the key.

  As I neared, I got the sense of being watched. That same feeling as before—when the audience was observing.

  A breeze tousled my hair and hit my nose. I sniffed.

  The faint animal smell of a shifter.

  A lion shifter.

  I whirled around.

  The golden-haired lion shifter who’d bitten me yesterday was prowling out from behind one of the stones. He was in his human form, tall and broad, with a mean tint to his golden eyes.

  “I’ve been waiting for you,” he growled.

  “Yeah? Can’t say I’m pleased to see you.”

  “You don’t have to make this difficult.”

  I smiled. “But that’s my specialty.”

  “Just give me your key and go on your way. I’ll let you live.”

  “Ha. If you recall, I came out on top last time.”

  “Not this time.” His magic surged around him as he pushed his signature out toward me. A threat.

  “What happened to your key? Lose it?” He didn’t answer, but the sullen expression on his face was enough to indicate that he probably had. “So, what? You’ve just been waiting here to ambush me?”

  He shrugged. “Or the others. But you’re my favorite.” He smacked his lips. “You taste good.”

  His words reminded me of the morning that Tarron had tasted my blood and learned what I was. A shiver of unease passed over me. At least this guy hadn’t seemed to notice that my blood was black and weird.

  I drew my bow and arrow from the ether. “If you charge, I’m going to make this quick. I don’t have time for an injury.”

  He just grinned as golden magic swirled around him. In the space of a heartbeat, he’d shifted into his lion form. His huge body glinted golden in the sun, and I had to remind myself that it was a man I was shooting, not a lion. I had no problem shooting assholes, whereas I had no interest in shooting furry, fangy creatures. In fact, I was very fond of furry, fangy creatures.

  The lion shifter raced toward me on powerful legs, mane blowing in the wind. He was so fast that my heart jumped.

  I raised my bow and fired right at each of his legs. One arrow hit his front right leg, and he stumbled. The second arrow hit his other front leg, and he staggered.

  He was nearly to me, so close that I could see the individual hairs of his mane. I fired the third, and he went down, skidding hard on the ground. I leapt out of the way, rolling to the side.

  He pulled a burst of energy from somewhere and shoved himself off the ground, lunging after me. He was uncoordinated from the wounds, but managed to plow his body into mine. Pain flared in my ribs, sharp and bright.

  His weight shoved me to the ground, and I kicked up, heaving him off of me. The force of my blow rolled him to the side, and I darted up, scrambling for my bow. As he struggled to his feet, I grabbed my bow and a fresh arrow and sent the projectile flying into his leg.

  He roared and went down, all four limbs compromised. I lunged for him and slammed my bow down onto his head so hard that I heard the crack. He slumped unconscious.

  I knelt over, inspecting where I’d hit him. Not bleeding. He’d wake up. Shifters were tough.

  I stood and spun in a circle, shouting to the sky. “He’s out! Come and get him.”

 

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