Aisling touched a hand to the child’s arm, gently moving it in a large circle. “You see? It has to be perfect for the spell to work, then you can do anything with it.”

“I don’t know how to make a perfect circle, though.”

“Keep practicing. Hold your arm straight as an arrow and move nothing but your shoulder. It takes a lot of work to be a witch, trust me, it’s worth it.”

The little changeling girl scrunched up her face and continued etching the large circle on the dining hall floor. Each time she drew it the wrong way, she would scuff it with her shoe angrily before starting again. She had the making of a good witch. It wasn’t going to come easy to her.

Some people were like that. Others were natural witches. Aisling saw a bit of herself in the child, though. No matter how hard it was, she would do her best to learn the ways of witchcraft.

She straightened and placed her hands on her hips, looking out over the crowd of changelings with a smile playing over her face. They were happy here. Learning, teaching, growing with each other as a new family.

Aisling hadn’t realized how much she had missed this, the feeling of comradery between so many different types of people. Unseelie and Seelie fae shook off their old ties and simply became changeling. They were all cast aside by those who should have loved them. Yet, all of them agreed that this family was the one they would choose.

Hope bloomed in her chest. She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt like this. The incredible feeling was so pure, so untainted, that it filled her near to bursting.

One of the older changeling’s walked by her and pinched the fabric of her sleeve between his fingers. Fur covered his face and body, horse-like features unusual to her eyes. Even the deep pools of his gaze were animalistic, like she had never seen before.

“Mistress,” he said, his voice deep and hoarse. “I wanted to thank you again.”

“You’re welcome here for as long as you wish.” She tried to remember his name, but couldn’t find it in the long list of changelings who now inhabited the castle. So she grinned and shrugged her shoulders. “I’m afraid I cannot remember if you were one of the few who wanted to stay or leave.”

“I’ll find my way back to the Unseelie court eventually, mistress. For now, this place is safe to lay my head, and I’ll never forget that.”

“You’re always welcome back, you know.” The words were one she wished someone had said to her whenever she was in a safe place. No one wanted to harbor a witch more than a few moments before they would force her to leave. “We won’t turn you away, even if you leave.”

His eyes filled with tears that did not fall. “You’re an angel, mistress. A guardian sent to look after us.”

As he walked away, she let the words roll in her mind. An angel? Goodness no, she was a witch, and even Aisling knew that was the exact opposite of what he thought she was. A guardian?

She quite liked the thought of that.

A crowd of changelings clamored in the halls; even the dining chamber was nearly filled to the brim. She didn’t know how many there were now. No one could keep count. The sluagh were at their wit’s end trying to make sure that each and every one were taken care of.

Aisling caught the hand of one bird-creature walking by. “Do they all have rooms?” she asked.

“It seems so,” the sluagh croaked. Its brow furrowed. “We cannot be sure. They keep walking through portals from countless places.”

“Watch the floors tonight. If you can spare a few of your own, I want to make sure none are sleeping near hearths. They deserve a bed.”

The harried expression on the sluagh’s face didn’t change. “Aye, mistress, I’ll make sure of it. Eventually we’ll run out of rooms.”

Aisling hoped they would. That would mean she’d saved countless changelings. They were here, where they would remain safe and out of sight. No faerie could harm them here. Not while the sluagh army remained on their side.

“Mistress!” a soft voice called out from the other side of the dining hall. “We have something new to show you. Come, come!”

A smile split her face, one so unfamiliar that it almost made her uncomfortable. “What did you learn?”

She could get used to this. The quiet living of a woman who took care of her people. They weren’t monstrous. They weren’t broken. They were just creatures who needed someone. For once in her life, Aisling realized that being a queen wasn’t quite as terrible as she’d always thought.

No one forced her to remain. She wanted to be here, for them, for someone other than herself.

The thought was liberating. She’d finally managed to do something more than just healing boils on the town fool. Magic had a use here, far bigger than a small town’s worries. She could help people.

When had she ever wanted to help people?

She stepped one foot forward, and the world exploded in her face. A portal opened in the center of the dining hall, cracking a table down the middle and sending shards of wood flying through the air. Stone shattered. The remaining glass of the ceiling caved in, daggers raining down upon them.

With an angry scream, she opened her arms wide and brought her hands together in a great blast to surround them all in a bubble. Wood turned to slivers, glass turned to powder, and stone turned to dust.

Aisling crouched with a knee on the ground, hands held out and black magic writhing through her fingers. Anger boiled in her chest. Her heart thudded against her ribs while a voice in her head screamed out for justice and for bloodshed.

Slowly, she looked up.

Darcy looked back at her with glee in his snake eyes. He licked his lips, then gestured behind him for the portal to close.

“You’ve gotten stronger,” he admired. “I hadn’t thought that was possible.”

She ignored him and looked out over the crowd of people. Horror made their eyes large, while fear made them shake. They were stuck in place by her shield, but she could tell most of them wanted to run.

They should. This was not going to end well, and she didn’t want them to see just what kind of justice she was going to mete out.

Aisling let the shield slip out of her fingers. The magic poured off her and struck the ground in a black sludge that sank between the cracks of the stone floor. “Go,” she told the changelings and the sluagh. “I will take care of this man who dares step foot in our sanctuary.”

They ran from the room as Darcy chuckled. “Sanctuary now? Funny, most people would call this a prison.”

“Perhaps when you ruled here. We saw a greater purpose for these people and these lands.”

“A purpose? Other than being the ones to hunt down all that you love?” He pressed a hand against his chest and stepped toward her. “I always knew you were a remarkable woman, but I didn’t think you were so capable of forgiveness. It’s an unusual trait for an Unseelie fae.”

“I’m not Unseelie.”

“Ah, yes, of course. You consider yourself to be one of the Underfolk now? Is that it?”

Aisling held up a hand. “Don’t come any closer.”

She didn’t want them to think he was welcome here. After all that he had done, how could he consider that entering the castle in such a way would leave him in a good light? She wanted to destroy him. And she planned on doing so immediately.

He cocked his head to the side, eyes following her movements. “Do you think you could attack me? Is that what you’re planning, little witch?”

“You can no longer call me that. Your Highness is acceptable.”

Again, he licked his lips. The green scales on his throat flared with some strong emotion. “I think I’ll call you Aisling.”

She’d never felt her name slide down her spine like cold water. There was something different about this visit. He wasn’t teasing her, or trying to make her angry just to see what she would do. Something dark lurked in his eyes and the way he held himself.

Foreboding made her shiver. “What are you doing here, Darcy?”

“Did you feel something shift?” He took another step closer, his foot crunching on a piece of stone that pulverized under his heel. “Just a few moments ago. A snapping feeling perhaps, or something like power flowing back into you, where it had been stolen without your permission?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Perhaps you were simply too powerful already to feel the difference. Unusual, but even better for me when I take you.”

Aisling frowned. “Take me?”

“Yes, Aisling. Your consort has made his choice very clear. He no longer wants you, so I’ve come to take you with me. I’ve a home with people who will appreciate you, and I certainly plan to treat you better than he ever could.”

What was he going on about? The man was clearly mad, although she hadn’t seen him this bad before. It meant he was unpredictable, and that made her all the more nervous. Darcy was bad enough on most days.

She took a step back, closer to the doors behind her, and tried to think of a plan that would get her away from him without giving away what she was doing. “Darcy, I think you should go.”

“I’m not going anywhere without you.”

“And I’m not going anywhere at all. If you lay a hand on me, I will remove it.”

He let out a laugh that shook the rafters. “Ah, that’s what I appreciate so much about you, witch. You don’t know how to feel fear, do you?”

It was running through her veins like a river. She held her hands in fists so he couldn’t see them shaking. How could he say she didn’t feel fear? It was in everything that she did. That only meant she would force herself through it.

Someone like him couldn’t understand that.

Aisling glanced up. Her gaze caught on the remains of a chandelier hanging onto the ceiling by a small chain. If she could get him to stand under it… Well, it was a long shot. He likely would see what her plan was long before she could get him there. It was worth a try.

She looked back at him quickly. “What do you mean Bran chose another?”

“Stings, doesn’t it? I know the feeling well. The woman I was in love with, the one who was promised to me before all this”—he gestured around them—“also left me the very first moment she could.”

“Bran wouldn’t leave me.” She stepped back, watching him intently as he followed her movement with his own body. “He loves me.”

“Unseelie don’t know how to love. But the words are poetic, aren’t they?” Darcy ran a hand through his hair and down over the scales on his face. “Now, I know you don’t mind men who look a little less human than others. I can assure you, my animal side is far more pleasant to touch than the scratch of feathers.”

Just a few more steps, and he would be exactly where she wanted him. “Who did he choose?”

“Who has he always chosen? Fate is a circle. It goes round and round, but we always end up exactly where we began.” Darcy’s eyes narrowed, and she knew he was enjoying these words that still ached in her chest. “Elva, the pretty little golden thing that every eligible faerie wants to get his hands on. Do you know they loved each other long ago? He might have told you it paled in comparison to what he feels for you, I can assure you it doesn’t. I was there, and I saw all that happened between them.”

Two more steps, she thought. Two more steps, and then she could shut him up forever. “I don’t believe you. How did you trick him into choosing her?”

“I didn’t have to trick him. All I had to do was give him the choice. Her or you.” His expression twisted into something pitying and sad. “He’s always wanted her, Aisling. The sooner you believe that, the faster you can heal.”

She knew he was lying, but something still settled nervously in her gut. She hadn’t ever questioned what Bran felt for her. Their feelings ran deep beneath her feet like the roots of an ancient tree. They were subtle, and some people couldn’t see them at al. Yet,they were there, feeding everything around them. Sometimes she could feel the leaves raining down on her head.

Believing Darcy’s words would be foolish. He was a trickster. She’d learned that a long time ago, and there was a reason why he told her this. There was something hidden in the words and she didn’t have time to figure out what they were.

“And if I believe you?” she asked, keeping her eyes locked on him. She wouldn’t look at the chandelier above them, not yet. “What then?”

“Come with me, as you should have long ago.” He took another step forward and then he was exactly where she wanted him. Darcy shifted a stone away from his foot, smoothed a hand down his shirt, and then held it out for her to take. “Let us be the most powerful couple the faerie realms have ever seen. With our magic combined, we could rule not only Underhill, but the Unseelie court as well.”

“Ah,” she replied. “You want to take a throne.”

“I want to take every throne.”

“You can’t do it without me.”

“I can find another, but I want you to sit by my side. Your knowledge of magic far surpasses any other. And your beauty…” He paused, his eyes drifting shut for a small moment as if he were savoring her memory.

Lips curling in disgust, she threw up her hand and let out a bolt of magic that struck the chandelier chain with a loud clang. Aisling spread her palm wide and assisted it in falling. She had to make sure it hit him, no matter the cost.

His eyes snapped open, a shield surrounding him so quickly that she didn’t see it until the metal struck it. The blast echoed, and the chandelier ricocheted toward her.

She threw herself to the side, the ragged edge that could have sliced her in half narrowly missing her. It struck the wall and left a hole in its wake. Dust billowed down upon her, stone raining in chunks as the room shivered then held. Gasping, she placed both palms on the ground and pushed herself up.

The dust would hide her for a few moments only. That was her last chance to escape him, and she had failed.

“Aisling,” he called out, laughter in his voice. “An admirable attempt. If you think that was the first time someone tried to kill me with a chandelier, you would be wrong.”

She had to think. No one was immortal though he had lived a very long time. She had to be more creative than a regular parlor trick. Faeries constantly tried to kill each other, but there had to be a way they hadn’t thought of. Something dirty, something not quite so showy.

A large rock rolled toward her hand. Aisling blew out a breath. Sometimes, the old ways were best.

She snatched it off the floor and stood shakily. All she needed was for him to get close enough, and then she’d bash his brains in. She’d seen a man do it before, back when she lived in the swamp. It looked like a lot of work, but if it would shut the man up for good, then she was happy to suffer the consequences.

Darcy whistled. The sharp sound blasted around the room, ringing from every corner. “Come on then, witch. I don’t have all day to hunt you.”

“Why’s that?” she called out. “Is Bran following you?”

“I told you he’s made his choice.”

“Then there’s no reason for you to be so worried.”

The mist next to her swirled with movement. She spun and lifted the rock, only to find nothing behind her. So, he knew where she was. He was simply toying with her.

“I’m not worried at all. I can take you whenever I want you, Aisling. And I do want you, because I want everything that Carman has shared with you.”

Aisling frowned. “Carman? What does she have to do with any of this?”

“Everything. Did you think you weren’t directly connected to her? That’s where the raven consort’s curse comes from. You and her are linked.”

He knew something that he wasn’t sharin. If she was lucky, she could use his arrogance against him. “I’m linked to no one but Bran. If you take me, he will find me.”

“I’m sure you’d like to think that. Carman is alive and well because you are alive and well. That’s why no one can figure out how to break your curse, little witch. Because the most powerful witch to ever live is keeping you alive. So that she can stay alive.”

It wasn’t exactly what she wanted to hear. Carman was dangerous. Aisling couldn’t argue she was infinitely more powerful now than before she had been cursed. She’d hoped it had something to do with being the Raven Queen, and in a way, it did. But it wasn’t what she wanted.

Connections were strong between witches. They could call upon each other when something was wrong, sometimes even forcing the other to appear beside them. Why hadn’t Carman done that if all he said was true?

“Is that your plan then?” she asked. “You want to use me to get to Carman?”

Darcy’s breath fluttered against the back of her neck. She felt the heat of him blanket her spine, and he leaned down to press his lips against the hollow of her shoulder. “No, little witch. I’m not using you to get to Carman. I want you to be Carman.”

“Well, that’s too bad. I will never be anyone other than myself.”

She brought the stone in her hand up and caught him at the temple. It struck hard, bone meeting rock in an agonizing crack that made her wince even as she lunged away from him.

Darcy let out a howl that vibrated with magic. The floor and ceiling shook with the power of his rage, and Aisling knew she didn’t have much time. She had to get out of here, but as it always did, magic leaked out of her as fear took its place.

More power filtered through the room behind her. What was Darcy doing now? Had she failed? Could he really steal her out of her own castle so easily?

It wasn’t his dark-edged magic that touched her shoulder, nor was it a faerie portal as she was used to. Instead, magic as cool as a forest spring slid over her arm and a hand linked fingers with hers.

She looked down in shock and saw black tipped fingers threaded through her own before she was yanked through the portal.