I hold my breath while she completes her inspection. Does she sense the malevolence of the Sinsar Dubh? The guilt of my afternoon murder?

“How are you, Mac? We’ve not been seeing much of you lately.” You weren’t at the abbey, defending us, is the message I think I read unspoken in her eyes and am shamed by it. But I’ve been a little paranoid lately so I’m probably wrong.

I breathe a little easier. “Good, Kat. You?”

“Why weren’t you at the abbey the night we battled the Hoar Frost King? We could have used your support, and that’s for sure,” she says in her soft, Irish lilt.

There it is, the knife through my already perforated heart. Nice to know I wasn’t being paranoid, after all. Leave it to Kat to be so direct.

“Barrons and I were in the Silvers. I didn’t get word until it was over. I’m so sorry, Kat.”

Her sharp gaze moves from my left eye to my right and back, and she slowly nods. “It’s as well. We lost many of our sisters that night. We can’t afford to lose you. Speaking of losing—have you seen Dani? She’s not been by the abbey since we defeated the Hoar Frost King. I’ve had girls out searching but they’ve found no trace of her and I’ve not seen a single of her papers. It’s as if she’s simply vanished.”

I don’t bat a lash. “I thought she was staying with you.”

“We were arguing that night about where she should live. I believed she was trying to make a point by staying away, but the longer she’s gone the more I worry. These are dangerous times, even for her. Would you mind keeping an eye out? And if you see her, tell her she’s sorely missed. I want her to come home.”

“Of course.” I want her to come home, too.

“I’m hoping you’ll drop by the abbey sometime, Mac. Spend a night with us, or a week if you’ve the mind. I’ve been wanting to hear the tale of how you managed to bring the Sinsar Dubh to us.” She pauses then adds, “There’s another thing I’d like to be discussing with you, if you’ve the time. About Cruce. Seeing how you know more about Fae princes than any of us.”

“His cage is holding, right?” That’s another of my recurring nightmares. Cruce gets out, somehow turns me Pri-ya again, and I run off with him to another world where we get down to populating it with little book-babies. Seriously. Books with feet and arms that cry all the time and want some kind of milk I don’t have. My dreams have been beyond warped lately.

“Of course.” She pauses again. “But there are other concerns I’d prefer to discuss in private. If you’ll just come to the abbey, you’ll see what I mean. This thaw … I thought when the fire-world threatening our home was gone … och, but then it didn’t and it turns out it wasn’t …” She trails off and for an instant her composure slips.

I glimpse an unexpected uncertainty in her and think, Oh no, not her, too. Coming into sudden power can do funny things to you if you care deeply about the world around you, and we both do. It’s like suddenly getting a Murcielago LP 640, V-12 with a testy clutch when you’re used to a six-cylinder Mercedes. You drive badly at first, jerky on the gas and brake, don’t trust your own feet, sometimes even rear-end the folks in front of you when you try to start from a stop, until you get a feel for it. Or, like me today, crash into a wall and decimate whatever’s in the way.

“Kat, what’s wrong at the abbey? What’s going on?”

“You’ll just have to—” She glances past me. “Barrons.”

“Katarina.”

I feel his energy behind me, sexual, electric. Every cell in my body comes alive when he’s near. He moves past us, into the alcoved entry of the bookstore, and I shiver with desire. My need for sex seems directly proportionate to how much emotion I repress, and I’m repressing violently today. When I first came to Dublin, I talked and probed and poked into everything, splashed my feelings all over the place, like the rainbow colors of my wardrobe. Now I wear black and let almost nothing I feel show.

Until Barrons undresses me. Then I explode. I vent the fire and fury of everything I feel on him and he blows it right back at me, a hot, dangerous sirocco that levels and reshapes, and it binds us in a sacred place that needs no sun in the sky, no moon or stars. Just us.

The bell tinkles as he opens the door. I love that sound and imagine it chimes Welcome to Mac’s home each time it rings.

“The Unseelie Princes will be coming back with him,” I warn Kat as I watch him go.