As my eyes adjust, I realize he’s watching me quietly with that smoldering look I find so unnerving.

His eyes soften as something passes between us. Something more substantial and terrifying than the simple jerk of the physical bond. I fight my gut reaction, which is to smile like a maniac at him.

Summer, stop with the mushy crap and save this beautiful fucker’s life.

I stroll over like I haven’t just spent the last ten minutes in controlled terror, plant my hands on my hips, and toss him a wink. “Ready for me to rescue you, Prince?”

His lips twitch with what I assume is some smart remark, but then he simply says, “I can hardly wait.”

We gather around the kitchen island. Mack shoves a spice rack out of the way, pushes a button on the GPS device, and projects a live map of the city onto the gold-flecked ivory countertop.

“We’re here,” she says, poking a finger at the residential buildings labeled Foggy Bottom. “And we need to get here by sunrise.”

I watch her metallic blue-lacquered fingertip trail down to a swath of parks and ponds before settling on the tall obelisk on the map titled, Washington Monument.

A golden bubble of magic surrounds the obelisk. I stare longingly at the shield that keeps darklings out.

Once we reach that point, we’ll be safe.

Unfortunately, we have miles between us and safety, and hundreds of red dots swarm the streets in between.

Screw you and the centaur you rode in on, Spring Prince.

Gulping noises draw my focus to Ruby. She’s sitting above us on the copper light fixture, legs dangling, in the process of emptying a crystal decanter of some dark purple liquid.

“Ruby!” I scold, using my mom-voice. “Bad!”

Crap, why did I let her come?

She finishes off the bottle, belches, and throws me an innocent look. “What? You saw the map. We’re all going to die; I’m just making sure I die in my happy place.”

Asher growls under his breath, glaring at Ruby. “Why is she here again?”

All dragons have a deep hatred of sprites. Supposedly, during the last war when dragons were nearly eradicated, the sprites were the ones who carried out the poisoning with dragonsbane.

Rubbing my temples, I desperately study the map for a plan. We don’t have enough time to go around the clusters of darklings to reach our goal.

If only Asher and Valerian could both fly us out of here, but . . . no. Our Keepers can’t use any of their powers, including shifting.

Nor can they help us plan in any way, which would be super helpful right now.

No! You can do this without their help. Think. I tap my finger against the churning mass of darklings on the projected map.

“Too bad we can’t go under the city somehow,” I murmur. “If only . . . wait.” I study the tangled meshwork of streets as my pulse quickens. “I thought all major Fae cities have emergency tunnels in case of a surprise darkling attack? If true, the wards that repel darklings could still be intact.”

Valerian runs a finger over the sharp edge of his jaw. “You’re right. Emergency tunnels were constructed beneath the residential areas for a quick evacuation, but they typically lead to a large, centrally-located portal. That portal could be anywhere.”

“Okay,” I press, “so where is this one?”

Mack fiddles with the device, and then another image flashes over the counter. The map is still shown, but the tunnels are superimposed in faint blue. They crisscross the parts of the city where the houses are concentrated and then merge into one thick blue line that leads to . . .

I blow out a disappointed breath. The tunnels end beneath the Lincoln Memorial. Technically, the distance between the memorial and the safe zone surrounding the Washington Monument isn’t that terribly far—we could run it in ten minutes—but it’s teeming with so many darklings that the area is a giant ball of red.

“They’re probably attracted to the remnants of the old portal’s magic,” Asher explains, his voice softening as he takes in Mack’s frustration.

“Dang-it.” Gritting her teeth, Mack glares at the map, as if she can somehow force it to show us what we need. “It was a good idea, Summer. But with that many darklings . . .”

Frowning, I once again scour the maze of streets between here and the safe zone, each one lit up with darklings. If we try to run directly there aboveground, that leaves miles and miles of ground to cover.

All out in the open, unprotected.

And every second outside this apartment will draw more darklings to our Keepers.

My gut says we wouldn’t make it halfway before the darklings overwhelmed us or we ran out of time.

“We could go for one of the weapons,” I add, thinking aloud. “Just in case of emergency but . . . if we have to use it, I worry the magic would only draw more darklings to us . . .” My heart skips a beat as an idea slaps me across the face. “Draw them to us,” I repeat.

Mack arches an eyebrow.

“We need to move that giant herd of darklings near the portal, right?” Excitement makes me talk fast, and I force myself to slow down and think this through. “What if we used one of the weapons to draw them away?”

Mack’s eyes slowly light up. “We activate the weapon, draw the darklings obstructing the path to something—maybe the water in the reflecting pool?—and sprint to the safe zone while they’re still fixated on the weapon’s magic.”

A giant grin stretches my face. Our Keepers can’t help us plan the mission, but one look at Valerian’s upturned lips and I know we’re on to something.

If he thought my plan would end in his death, surely he would be frowning instead.

The closest magical weapon is three blocks away, stored inside a three-story home that at one time probably cost millions of dollars.

Once Valerian and Asher leave the safety of the warded apartment, the darklings will be attracted to their Fae magic, so I order Valerian and Asher to stay while we get the weapon.

At first, Valerian bristles at my command, his bowed lips tugging into a frown.

Well, someone doesn’t handle not being in charge.

Breathing hard with excitement, I turn to Ruby, who’s zipping through the air in wobbly circles, singing some terrible song in her native tongue. “Ruby, ready to distract some darklings?”

Ruby’s eyes are crossed as she nods her head.

Mack frowns. “She has no idea what you’re saying.”

I grin. “Not a problem. All she has to do is fly around and make any darklings around the house chase her while we steal the weapon. Easy.”

“And not get eaten,” Mack pointedly adds. “Because that’s important.”

I grimace before throwing Ruby a thumbs up. “Piece of cake, right, Ruby?”

“Cake?” she screeches before lurching happily into the side of the stainless steel refrigerator door.

Dear Baby Jesus, please, please let this work.

As soon as we near the home where the magical weapon is stashed, a pack of darklings descend. Ruby distracts them while Mack and I rush into the basement, grab the glowing crimson weapon’s case, and make it back to find Ruby miraculously unharmed.

Turns out, Baby Jesus was listening, after all.

When Valerian opens the door and spots the crimson case in my hand, Ruby passed out unharmed on my shoulder, a flash of pride sparks inside his silver eyes.

Damn, if I wouldn’t scale the world’s largest mountain just to see that look again.

Get a grip.

I jerk my head in the direction of the city. “Don’t be scared, Prince. Mack and I will protect you.”

Asher bites down a chuckle as he steps out into the unlit corridor.

Valerian just watches me for a moment. His mouth is teased into an amused half-smile, but his eyes dance with an emotion that makes my toes curl and my breath hitch.

“Enjoying this?” he asks.

“Maybe,” I admit. After months of having to take his orders, it feels good to have the roles reversed.

His lips finally commit to a full smile, and it’s glorious. “Someday,” he whispers into my ear as he passes, “I’m going to find a really, really creative way to punish you for that smart mouth.”

Oberon’s beard. Even trapped in a scourge city and surrounded by darkling zombies, the attraction between us is so thick it’s practically a living, breathing thing.

But the moment the door clicks shut behind him and we break into a quiet jog toward the tunnel entrance a block away, I go straight into badass Guardian mode.

And when the first darkling screech shreds the night, the reality of my situation hits me like a bucket of ice water.

From now until the safe zone, it’s up to me to keep the Winter Prince alive. Otherwise, there will be no later flirting, no later negotiating our relationship, no later anything.

22

The entrance to the closest tunnel is hidden near an abandoned coffee shop, beneath a wide set of stairs. I don’t relax until the iron grate—warded to keep darklings out—senses Valerian and Asher’s presence and lights up green before opening for Mack.

As the iron clicks shut behind us, an eerie hissing sound fills the air. On the other side, where we stood just moments ago, countless darklings gather. The warded iron gate does its job, repelling them back a few feet—but it doesn’t feel like nearly enough.

Asher’s uneasy growl fills the chamber. “Is it just me or are the darklings getting uglier?”

“There’s something deeply wrong about being around them and not putting them out of their misery,” Valerian murmurs.

I cringe as I study the creatures. Knowing they were once human, a part of me wants to feel sorry for them. But they look so different now, so monstrous, so . . . wrong that it’s impossible to find any humanity to connect with.

Their bones are warped and misshapen. Their eyes depthless pits of black. Their faces twisted with hunger and mindless savagery. Any clothes they once possessed are gone, leaving their graying, emaciated flesh exposed.

But it’s the way they move—jerky and inhumanly fast, driven by mindless hunger—that puts them squarely in the not-even-remotely-close-to-human camp.