On this point, he and his lady were in complete agreement. Jacob was sure his own gaze had gone harsh and uncompromising, his body warrior straight

and alert, every muscle prepared for battle. After a long, tense moment, Keldwyn tilted his head toward the front of the line, toward Cayden and the curtained chair. “I understand the third and final quest will be delivered to you at dawn. I wish you luck, Lady Lyssa.”

“Good or bad? Which will suit your purposes best?”

He lifted a shoulder. “Both have their advantages.

Though I would not say I am your friend, and would hesitate over all y, I am not your enemy, Lady Lyssa. I think you know that.”

“Mind if we go get that spear to test out the theory?” Jacob asked.

He gave Jacob a tight fuck-you smile. Reaching into his shirt, he tossed him a smal sack. “Hold on to that. It can hold blood, preserving it for several days.

You may find a use for it soon.”

On that cryptic note, he turned his horse away, returning to the Seelie entourage, now moving in a paral el track with the Unseelie one. There was some fraternization, Jacob saw, but for the most part the two courts seemed to stand apart, a good indication that the leadership of them did.

“You are terrifying, my lady.”

“Good, that was my intent.” She shook her head. “I don't want to be with the court tonight. We'l go for a walk on our own. Enjoy this world on our own terms, not theirs.”

Jacob made a noise of assent. “You have friends here, my lady. King Tabor as much as told you so.

We will find a way out, even if the queen tries to prevent us.”

“I know.”

Still, feeling the chaos the evening had evoked, he knew whatever occurred at that dawn hour, she needed to be at a better mental place for it than she was currently. So if she wanted to walk, that was what they would do.

The celebration around the outside of the Caislean Uisce was an awe-inspiring circus of players, acrobats and magical displays based on the castle's favored element. Elaborate creative fountains were il uminated in myriad colors; a lake of ice was populated with animated ice sculptures ; the games were everything from dunking to a form of curling using disks of ice.

The Seelie procession had turned off at the Caislean Talamh, and the Unseelie procession disbanded here. The royal entourage had already disappeared, so little attention was paid to them as Jacob stopped Firewind at the bottom of the castle hil , a distance from the revels. He helped his lady slide off.

Lyssa turned to lay her hand on Firewind's shoulder, looking into the large dark eye of the enormous stal ion as Jacob removed the halter and gave the steed a slight bow. “Since Fae prefer thanks in the form of a gift, I'l give Keldwyn a basket of the apples along with your halter.” The horse snorted. His eyes gleamed, Jacob assumed at the promise of those sugar apples.

Waterhorses might live on blood, but this one had a sweet tooth.

Jacob bowed more deeply, hiding his amusement. “It was an honor, Lord Firewind.” Shifting forward, the horse gave Jacob a shove in his chest that knocked him on his backside. Then he rubbed his very large and quite lethal head gently against Lyssa's shoulder, the velvet lips nibbling her face and neck, a horse's form of kiss. She stayed stil , a smal smile on her face as he moved back, made that pretty leg. Then, with a snort of fire that blasted the grass at Jacob's feet, the horse was in motion.

The Fae in his path swept back with warning cries as he charged ful tilt toward the moat around the castle, the flames from his hoofs leaving smal fires in the grasses. Gathering his haunches, he leaped into the air. He transformed in the air against all the glittering fireworks, the rear legs becoming the lustrous and powerful curved tail that helped him dive deep into the moat and disappear.

“Show off,” Jacob observed, getting back to his feet and rubbing his stil tender ribs. “Big flirt.”

“Well, since he started out the evening trying to kil you—and almost succeeded, I might add—I think it's an improvement in your relationship.”

“Hmm.” Jacob looked down as she linked her hand with his, their fingers intertwining as she gestured toward the moonlit fields and forests that rol ed away from the castle wal s.

“Shal we go that way?”

She didn't want to go into the castle, even for a change of clothes. He was comfortable in what little he was wearing, so he had no objections to that.

It was rare that she chose to walk hand-in-hand.

When she did so, it always underscored how petite she was, the top of her head barely reaching his shoulder. When they'd put her hair in order after the white hart chase, he'd wrapped it in a silver braided cord so it fel down her back, a compliment to the dress. She kicked off the shoes to walk barefoot, absorbing the feel of the earth through her soles.

“There's a lot more to him than meets the eye,” she remarked. “Firewind.”

“Well, there's more than one legend about the waterhorse.”

“There always is.”

Jacob grinned, then sobered. “One story says a kelpie can also take the form of a seductive male who coaxes women to accompany him into secluded places. There he'd take their lives, drink their blood.”

“Like a vampire. Do you think Firewind can shapeshift to a human form?”

Jacob snorted. “That last little maneuver, nibbling on your neck, makes me wonder. And during our struggle . . . some of it was man against beast, but there were moments it felt almost . . . warrior to warrior. But regardless, there's something very sinister below the surface on that one. Intriguing, but sinister.”

“Again, much like vampires.” Her fingers tightened on his.

“True. Though now that you're hanging with the Fae, you'l probably want to associate as little as possible with that fanged rabble.”

She gave him a smal smile, that sensual curve of her lips that made him imagine all the things she could do with her mouth. Though they were setting a casual pace, the castle had already dropped out of sight behind them as they fol owed the rise and fal of the hil s before them. The firefly Fae were out in clouds tonight, buzzing around them in greeting, then flitting on about their business. Circles of dancing Fae dotted the hil side with glowing bonfires, the tunes of many different musical instruments wafting across the hil s. The Fae musicians used the sounds of nature as their inspiration, so it wasn't surprising that they made a harmonious and appealing composition. Jacob wondered if any of the circles contained euphoric humans who had stumbled into them tonight to dance until dawn.

“Do you think Keldwyn misses our mountains the way we do?” Lyssa asked unexpectedly.

“I think it's hard to get into that old bastard's mind.

But yes, I think he does.” He looked down at her, leaning against his shoulder as they walked.

“I've often thought that's a measure of what a person truly is. If some part of them yearns for quiet and peace, for places of solitude, then no matter what else they seem to be, that's the window into their soul, into who they real y are. Or want to be.”

“So what about Rhoswen?”

“I think she's a powerful sorceress and queen who's had to build a lot of layers inside herself to be who she is. So she's afraid of those quiet places. Of the things that will be said to her soul there, buried under those layers.”

“Hmm.” Jacob watched a group of Fae fly across the field, several of them doing somersaults to avoid the chase of the others. “When I was preparing to be your servant, Thomas had me do a lot of sitting by myself in the chapel. He said that we have to be brave enough to face the stil ness inside ourselves.

He said Purgatory is like a monk's cel . The stil ness will either drive you mad enough to tear the brain out of your own head to silence whatever voices rise out of it, or you'l find acceptance and true quiet, a peace that might make you wish you never had to leave that cel .”

“Or the mountains, in our case or Keldwyn's.” She slanted him a glance. “Then there are those whose heads are already fil ed with silence, because of all the empty space there.”

She shoved him off balance, caught the hem of her skirt and was gone, running across the field. He watched her go, grinning, giving her a headstart mainly because he liked watching her run, the attractive movement of her breasts as she turned, the quiver of the smal curves, the brush of her hair against her delectable ass. When she startled a covey of birds that looked like doves, their white wings gleaming against the moonlight, she laughed, turning among them, raising her arms as if she could fly as well.

He took off after her then. She bounded through the grasses as if she might transform into a slim-legged black hart herself, with shiny hooves and sharp horns, deceptively delicate-looking. Unlike the white hart earlier, he was pretty sure he could catch this one—and that his lady would approve of him doing so. He caught her at the forest edge, clamping an arm around her waist and swinging her into him, but she ducked under his hold and took off again.

This time she shed the dress as she moved, flinging it away and transforming in one swift movement into her Fae form, launching herself on the leathery wings. He cut left, using his momentum to push off against the trunk of the nearest solid tree and leap through the air. When he snagged one slim leg before she could get above the tree line, she twisted with him, her hands sliding intimately over his chest and hip as she wrestled with him. He made sure they landed safely, though her wings slapped him, none-too-gently.

With a chuckle and an oath, he gave her sleek gray flank a healthy smack that won him an indignant shriek and a nip from the sharp teeth. Her talons scraped his flesh as she rol ed.

The key was control ing her wings, so he made sure he had her pinned beneath him in short order, her wrists above her head, body pressed on her stomach into the forest floor. As she struggled, he knew she was fully aware of how that would rouse his predator instinct, make him harder. Reaching beneath her, he ran his hand down her firm bel y, finding the bare mound there, teasing her. Her body transformed then, back to the pale flesh of his vampire queen. He could sense she had more mischief planned, and braced himself to be turned into a tree, his cock a branch protruding at just the right angle.