Aisling held herself together until Bran nudged her through the portal back to Underhill. Once through the pulling magic, she fell onto the stone floor. Her knees struck the hard surface painfully, but the pain didn’t register.

The changelings. They didn’t want to come with her. They wanted to remain hunted or afraid rather than return to this place with the Raven Queen.

Was it so bad here?

She lifted her head and stared around the great hall, unable to see what others saw. There might be cobwebs in the ceiling, the spiders kept the entire place free of bugs. The floors were cracked, though still shone with ancient beauty and splendor. The windows were shattered, but that meant a breeze caressed her sweat-covered face.

How could anyone see this place as monstrous? Beauty covered every ancient, damaged surface from a lifetime of hard use and love. These were good things.

“Mistress?” The voice came from the rafters, and a sluagh dropped down in front of her. “Are you all right?”

No, she wanted to shout. She wasn’t, and wouldn’t be for a very long time. Her own people didn’t want to be with her. They should have been like a family. Changelings should stick together, and she’d always thought that they would. Now she had proof faerie blood ran far stronger than make-believe ties.

Aisling dug her fingers into the stone floor until her nails screamed in pain. “I will be fine.”

“How may I help you?”

You can’t, a scared side of her whispered. The sluagh meant well, but all they would do is remind her that she was alone. That there was no family who would take her…

“Mistress.” The sluagh knelt in front of her and touched a finger to her chin. It tilted Aisling’s head up until she was staring into the strange face. This was an elderly creature. The beak had split its head nearly in two, bone gleaming in the dim light. Not a single hair decorated its head, and skin sagged from its cheeks. Black, beady eyes stared into hers.

She blew out a breath. Even in the strange ugliness, she saw the beauty in this creature. There was kindness in its eyes and a heart that beat strong and true within its breast.

The sluagh tsked. “You’ve been working yourself too hard, mistress. I’m glad you’re back. We’ve all missed you.”

“I haven’t been gone long.” She frowned and shifted, pulling away from the sluagh’s hand. “Why aren’t you with the others?”

“Some of us didn’t want to hunt.”

The words vibrated with something Aisling couldn’t name. It tasted like a lie, yet sounded like the ringing peal of truth. She frowned. “I didn’t think it was possible for the sluagh to remain in Underhill when their king has called upon them.” Even as she said it, the words seemed even more unusual.

The sluagh’s eyes cast to the floor, and it scuffed a foot against the stone. “We consider ourselves loyal to you, mistress, and the Raven King has no hold over us.”

It should have terrified her. The sluagh were not meant to serve anyone other than the Raven King. That’s how it had always been. Their loyalty was a curse, not a choice. And yet…

Aisling straightened her spine and stood. She might not have family among the Fae, but she’d made a family here that meant far more.

“I missed you as well,” she said, holding out a hand for the sluagh to take. “How many more are there?”

“Just a few, the numbers grow every day.”

“Are you unsatisfied with your king?” She frowned at the thought. Bran was a good man; she’d seen him do wonderful things to help others. She was rarely in his presence when he had a chance to be king. Was he perhaps not as good as she thought?

“No mistress, the king has been very kind. It’s just that…” The sluagh rose from its crouch and twisted its fingers together. “You were like us. A witch in the human realm and now something more. You’re just like us.”

Gods, was she really? Aisling looked the creature up and down, then sighed as she gave in. She was just like them. Though her outward form might not be as ugly, she was still the creature faeries wanted to forget existed.

They wouldn’t let her change that.

Aisling flexed her hands, then let out a long breath. “Shall we prepare dinner then? The king will not be returning tonight.”

“We’ve already eaten, mistress, I’d be happy to awaken a cook for you.”

“There’s no need. It won’t be the first meal I’ve cooked for myself.” And an opportunity to feel like she was herself again.

Aisling took five steps before a portal opened up on the other side of the great hall. Much smaller than the first, it vibrated with a familiar magic that she had felt many times. The edges were feathered with darkness.

“Bran?” she asked. No one stepped through.

She frowned and nudged the sluagh behind her, then tried again. “Bran?”

Someone stumbled through the portal. Long legs, flailing limbs, and with scraggly hair in front of their face, she couldn’t hazard a guess at who they were. They fell onto their hands and knees in front of her, breathing hard and shivering in fear.

Thin fingers reached out for the hem of her dress. The quaking creature lightly touched her dark skirt and whispered, “Raven Queen?”

She let out a low breath. “Yes.”

“He said you would be waiting for me.” The creature looked up, and Aisling saw it was a pretty little pixie. Her spiked hair and leaf-shaped growths on her face were discolored, but she was alive. “Are you really going to help me?”

He’d managed to save one for her. Aisling’s heart squeezed. “You’re welcome here for as long as you’d like.”

“I don’t want to go back there.”

“You don’t have to.” Aisling crouched so she was eye level with the little pixie. “Would you like something to eat?”

The pixie shook her head. “I don’t know what I’d eat here, mistress.”

“We aren’t so far away from the world that we cannot grow food. Let me give you honey and bread. That should tide you over until we can find something more suitable for you.”

Aisling’s chest swelled with pride when the pixie looked at her as if she had saved the creature’s life. She planned to do that, just not quite yet. The little thing would learn what it meant to be part of the Underfolk. They would become a family, and no one would ever cast them aside like something used and broken.

She reached out an arm for the pixie to tuck herself under. As they made their way out of the great hall, she looked at the sluagh over her shoulder. “Stay here?” she asked quietly. “In case there are more of them.”

What had been a dejected look in the sluagh’s eyes changed to that of respect. “Yes, mistress. And if more come through portals?”

“Bring them to the kitchen.” Aisling let out a little laugh. “Bring them all to the kitchen, and we will feed them. Let them know what it is like to have a full belly once again.”

Maybe it was foolish, but she felt hope for the first time in a very long time.

The last changeling snuggled underneath the blankets Aisling laid over its shoulders with a soft sigh. This one was the youngest by far, really just a little girl and nothing more. She was slight, lacking any weight on her body that left her cheeks sunken.

She had survived the Wild Hunt, and now she had a place where she could be safe for a few moments longer.

A total of seven changelings had stepped through Bran’s portals. They were all officially part of the Underfolk now, although Aisling didn’t know what she was going to do with them. There was enough room in the palace, though it was falling apart at the seams. She would need to find someone to start repairs immediately, especially if there were going to be children around.

Her mind bubbled with the possibilities. She could talk to the other sluagh, see if they remembered any skills from their time as humans, and if they would like to teach the others. They could make this place more than just a resting ground for the unwanted or a cage for the armies of the Wild Hunt.

They could make this a home.

She left the tiny bedroom and closed the door gently. Pressing her forehead against the cool surface, she let out a tiny, happy laugh, so small she didn’t even recognize what it was.

They’d done it. Although the Wild Hunt had been a horrifying thing, a terrifying creation of the faeries meant to punish, maim, and hurt… They’d really done something more than just sit by and let it happen.

Arms curved around her waist and tugged her back against a strong chest. “Are you happy, Raven Queen?”

“More than I could ever express.” She turned in Bran’s arms, pressed her face against his neck, and chuckled again. “I hardly can believe we’ve actually done it. The changelings are here, Bran.”

“Not all of them.” Darkness crept into his voice with a hint of regret. “There were far more than I’d like to admit who were sent back to the courts.”

“Se saved some. Not all of them, that would have been impossible. Seven changelings have lives that actually matter now, lives that can be whatever they want, however they want.” Aisling pulled back, staring up into his dark eyes and seeing the world trapped in their depths. “You did this for me.”

“How could I do anything else? You wanted this to happen, and you’re right. This was the only future for them. They deserve more than a trial or to be set loose in the Otherworld with no one to guide them.”

He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. This man, this impossible, strong, kind man meant more to her than anything she’d ever had in her life.

He had put himself in danger for her. The other faeries could have stopped him, or worse, fought him for the rights to keep these changelings. But he hadn’t cared.

Even the dark power of the Raven King hadn’t stopped him. That had to mean more than just a passing fancy or a man who found her a good equal to rule his kingdom.

Blowing out a breath, she reached up and ran a finger down his jaw. Aisling had waited a long time to tell him the words that would split open her chest and reveal far more about herself than she had ever dared with anyone else. And perhaps it wasn’t the right moment, would it ever be?

“You look troubled,” he said, frowning. “What is it? Did I forget something?”

She let out a ragged chuckle, “No you foolish man. You haven’t forgotten anything. It’s perfect, all that you’ve done for me, for them, today.”

“Then why do you look like I stuck a dagger between your ribs?” He reached between them and ran a hand down her side, as if checking for an unseen pressure that would cause her pain. “There’s nothing here, my queen. You have no reason to look so sour, and I’ll be angry if you’ve changed your mind about the changelings. It was more trouble than you could guess to get them here and —”

She pressed a hand against his mouth and blurted. “I love you!”

Bran froze under her touch, then his eyes crinkled at the corners as they always did when he was smiling.

She frowned. A muscle on her jaw ticked as the smile spilled down his face, curving his lips under her hand and then bubbling in his chest until she could hear his laughter.

“It’s not funny, Bran,” she scolded. “I really do. I haven’t said anything before now, and I don’t appreciate it that you’re questioning me. I love you, despite all your flaws, and they are numerous!”

He reached up and pulled her hand away from his mouth. “I know.”

“You know what?”

“I know you love me. I’ve known for quite some time now.” He ran a hand over his dark hair and grinned. “How could you not love me? I’m devastatingly charming, far more handsome than the rest of the men you’ve met in her life. And besides, I’m better than anyone else you’ve ever met.”

“And so gods-damned arrogant.”

“The arrogance is a bonus. You’ll never have to worry that my self-esteem is too low.”

She rolled her eyes, trying to build a casing of ice over her stinging pride. “I just thought you’d like to know. I was obviously wrong.”

If this was how he was going to be, then she wasn’t going to waste any more time here. She struggled to untangle herself from his arms, but Bran simply tightened them. He allowed her to turn around until her back was pressed to his front, then rested his chin against her shoulder and waited for her to stop struggling.

Aisling let out a huff of breath and finally relented. “What? What else do you want?”

He pressed his lips to her cheek, then breathed, “I love you too, you know.”

Pride stinging, she sniffed. “Of course, I do.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Then why were you trying to get away like I had set you on fire?”

Because she hadn’t wanted to face the possibility that he might not have loved her back. Because the mere idea of a future like that was enough to make tears build in her eyes. She would have stayed with him, she couldn’t live without him. It would have been a very lonely future and one she wouldn’t like.

Letting go of her anger, she sagged into his hold. “Oh hush, you ridiculous man. Can’t you let me win just once?”

“Never. It’s too much fun to tease you instead.”

His arms tightened around her waist, and Aisling let him hold her. His words rolled over and over in her mind. He loved her. It felt almost too good to be true.

The Raven King was a story she had told many children, and one she had listened to countless times herself. He was a paragon. The kind of faerie who helped children like her, who hadn’t had a home or anyone else to call their own.

And now, she’d captured the Raven King’s attentions and made him fall in love with her. Life was strange like that.

Blowing out a breath, she wiggled to get his attention. “You really love me?”

“So much that sometimes it hurts to breathe. I don’t know how you forced your way under my skin so firmly, witch, but I can’t let you go now. I love you more than life itself, more than this title, more than the kingdom. I’d burn the world to the ground for you and build it back into the one you wanted if I could.”

Why was he so perfect? He always knew the words she wanted to hear when she was just a mess at his feet.

“Let me turn around, Bran.”

“I like you this way.”

She huffed out an angry breath. “I want to kiss you.”

“And I want to annoy you. It seems like only one of us is going to get what we want, and I’m bigger and stronger. I’ll let you guess who is going to win.”

“Can you take this seriously for a moment?”

“There’s no such thing as seriousness in our life, my love.”

She spun so quickly in his arms that he didn’t have a chance to catch her. Aisling crashed against his chest and framed his face with her hands. Feathers poked her palm, their ends prickling. “Say that again.”

“Seriousness?”

“Bran.”

He grinned, all pointed teeth and otherworldly face. “My love.” He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “My love.” Another kiss landed on each eye. “My love forever.”

His lips met hers, and he sank into her like the breath of life. She couldn’t inhale anything other than his wine-drenched scent. She dug her fingers into his broad shoulders, so beloved and so strong. He carried the weight of her world on them and didn’t even flinch.

“Take me to bed, Bran.” She shivered. “This is our one night together, and you came home early.”

He swung her up into his arms. “With pleasure, my queen.”

Aisling could only hear the drumming of her heart as they raced through the halls. His breath fanned over her face, drugging her with his masculine scent. How long had it been since she’d had complete access to his skin? To touch as she wanted?

Too long.

When Bran kicked the door to their bedroom open, it slammed against the wall with a resounding clang. She tilted her head back and laughed. It was reassuring he needed her as fiercely as she needed him. Their lust for each other hadn’t dulled in the absence of time or space.

The black curtains surrounding their bed seemed to cast the entire room into darkness, as if the moon rose in the horizon rather than the sun. He laid her down on the down-filled mattress, crawling up her body with a dark look in his eyes.

He’d always hunted her like prey when it came to the bedchamber, and she lost herself completely as her soul tried to run from his. She would always be afraid of what he’d do to her. Of what loving him could do to her.

Warm hands ran up her thighs, dragging the silken fabric of her gown up her legs. The slow slide of heat mixed with the decadence of silk made her gasp.

Bran leaned down and pressed his cheek to her knee. “I missed this,” he whispered against her skin. “I missed you.”

How did she tell him she’d felt empty all this time? That not just her body, her heart, ached for a connection with him that was more than a few passing words? More than just the concern of a people, of a kingdom, the needs of a woman who desperately wanted to drink in his breath like the finest of wines?

She reached down, grabbed a fistful of his hair, and gently guided him up her body to settle him into the crook between her legs. “I will always miss you,” she rasped, then dragged her nose along his jaw. “Even when you are standing in front of me, I miss you.”

“Wild thing,” he replied with a chuckle.

Aisling felt her heart begin to pound once again as he shifted. He rolled his body against hers, relearning the shape of her and allowing her to get used to the shape of him. He was strong and lethal in every movement, long and lean as well.

He reached behind his head and pulled off his shirt in a graceful movement. Every beloved line of him was revealed to her greedy eyes.

Framed by black velvet curtains, his body seemed to glow. Aisling reached out and gently traced a finger over the starburst scar above his heart. Her mark.

Bran caught her hand and held it close to the thundering beat inside his ribs. “Not a regret in the world, mo chroi.”

Her breath caught. “Not a single one?”

In one smooth movement, he tugged her dress up and over her head. His gaze raked over her bare body, leaving a heated blush in its wake. “You are the reality of all my forbidden longings. Never once in my life would I regret finding you.”

His lips pressed against her throat before dragging down her body and finding the hidden hollows that made her gasp and squirm.

Her mind fracturing with pleasure that overwhelmed her, Aisling traced the muscles that bunched in his shoulders. Every flex rocked through her, every kiss made her toes curl, and every long lick made her breath catch in her throat.

He touched her like a starving man, and she the banquet laid out before him. Aisling couldn’t think, couldn’t be anything more than the writhing creature trapped between his claws.

The sounds she made were ones she’d never heard before. The primal growl of a snarling beast, the whimpering cry of a trapped animal, and the whispered call of a woman who desperately needed him.

Only once she’d fallen over that eternal ledge over and over again did he slide back up her body. She opened her eyes and met his gaze, watching as he licked his lips like a leopard who had finally sighted his next meal.

There were no words between them, but they’d never been all that good for talking.

He slid his hands into the tangled length of her hair, tugging until she tilted her head back and bared her neck for his lips. Tongue stroking the vein on her neck that beat fiercely, he slowly slipped inside her.

Aisling was overwhelmed, stretched farther than she thought possible, and it was still not nearly enough. She held onto his back, traced the bumps of his ribs, and sighed against his shoulder. Tangled together as they were, it was impossible not to feel the shudders running through him.

“You are…” he whispered, pulling back enough to stare deeply into her eyes.

“What?”

Bran shook his head and swallowed. “There are no words.”

And damned if that didn’t send her over the edge again. He drank deeply of her body, her soul, and every inch of her that she didn’t know existed. Moving within her with a singular goal, Bran plunged over the cliff edge with her.

He sighed into her shoulder, shifting them both so he could hold her close to his heart. Together, they slid into sleep with their fingers intertwined.