“As the floor beneath my feet.”

I felt like the Queen of Standoffs, hostility and tension everywhere I turned. Always venturing, never gaining.

Last night I’d realized I wasn’t the only one with trust issues. None of the players on Dublin’s board trusted anyone else. I’d made the mistake of assuming—since Barrons had chosen Ryodan to be my backup support—that when I went to see him he would be, well, supportive.

Not only wasn’t he, he’d impugned my motives at the deepest level, questioning my fundamental character. He’d made it out like the Book might be after me, drawn by something kindred. I was about as far from evil as the North Pole was from the South. “Throwing stones, my ass,” I muttered. There he’d stood in his glass house, letting Unseelie prey on humans, and he accused me of having moral issues.

I was in a horrible mood. Dani and I had pretty much slunk back to “our” house after getting tossed out of Chester’s by four of Ryodan’s “men.”

Dani’s eyes had been feverishly bright and she’d been spitting fury, but, beneath the pale-faced bravado, I’d glimpsed fear. I understood. Just when I thought I’d finally become a halfway decent power on the board, traded my pawn in for a rook or a knight, some king or queen came along to remind me how ineffectual I was.

I was getting damned sick of it.

I’d lie awake on the couch—sleeping in a stranger’s bed had seemed weird—stewing, until nearly dawn. Then I slept like the dead for a few hours and woke to feel the wind ruffling my hair as Dani paced: zing-zing, zing-zing.

I swung my legs over the edge of the couch and sat up, eyeing the blur. Although being at the abbey had been bad for Dani in many ways, Rowena and the girls had kept the gifted teen occupied constantly. She had too much energy, intelligence, and angst to leave to her own devices for long.

When I asked her to go spy at the abbey, to find out when Rowena planned to send the girls in to scout Dublin, she looked relieved at the prospect of something to do.

“Nobody’ll even know I’m there,” she promised, grabbing her sword and coat and slinging her backpack over a shoulder. “When do you want me back?”

“Just make sure it’s before dark.”

After she left, I contemplated the fireplace morosely. The house we were squatting in, like the rest of Dublin—except for Chester’s, which I assumed was powered by an entire room of underground generators—had no electricity or gas. Not only was it dark, it was freezing. And—of course—it was raining outside. I tugged the comforter that I’d pilfered from the bedroom more snugly around my shoulders and sat, teeth chattering. I’d have given my eyeteeth for a cup of coffee. Where was V’lane when I needed him? I considered the pile of logs and tried to decide where the prior owner might have stashed matches.

I heard the kitchen door open. “What did you forget, Dani?” I called.

A silhouette stepped into the doorway between the kitchen and living room. “I had begun to think the child would never leave,” said a deep, musical voice.

I don’t have Dani’s hyperspeed—but I achieved something close to it. One moment I was sitting on the couch feeling sorry for myself, the next I was plastered back against the far wall, spear drawn.

In that moment, I faced a harsh truth: I might have a serious hate on, I might even be stronger than I’d ever been before, but I still wasn’t strong enough.

I still needed allies.

I still needed Barrons’ tattoo, and I still needed V’lane’s name on my tongue, even though neither could be completely relied upon. I needed Jayne and his men, and I needed the sidhe-seers. And I hated needing anyone.

“Brought you coffee, MacKayla,” said the Lord Master, stepping into the room. “I hear you like it strong and sweet, with a lot of cream.”

“Where’d you hear that?” I was shaking. I bit my tongue hard enough to draw blood, focused on the pain, and stopped shaking.

“Alina. She talked about you a great deal. But she pretended you were her friend, not her sister. She hid you from me. Think about that when you remember her. Why did she conceal your existence unless she sensed, from the very beginning, something about me was not to be trusted? But she chose me anyway. Loved me anyway.”

“She didn’t love you. And you’re lying. You must have found her journal and read it.”

“And she wrote in her journal how you took your coffee? Pitiful rationale, MacKayla.”

“You took a lucky guess. Get out of my house.” I eyed my gun, which was lying on the floor next to the couch. I should have grabbed it, too, but his voice had sent me flying off the sofa, all instinct and no intellect. The only reason I had the spear was because it had been on my lap when he walked in. Although the Lord Master had once been Fae, the Seelie Queen had punished him by turning him mortal. He was now merely human, pumped up on Unseelie. Could I kill him with a gun? I was more than willing to try. I doubted he’d let me get close enough with the spear. I was surprised he’d come this close without a sifting Fae standing next to him.