“Indeed.” Devlin couldn’t repress a smile at her fluctuating mood.

Ani directed the car onto an exit ramp without slowing. “Thing is, I’m trying to make sense of it, but the part I don’t get is that she wants me to kill Seth too.”

Devlin stilled. Of all of the things Ani could do, striking Seth would be one guaranteed to result in her death. Is this what Sorcha had foreseen? Devlin stared at Ani, pondering. She didn’t kill Seth though. If Seth was in danger, Devlin should return to Huntsdale. However, Seth was with Niall and Irial. It wasn’t as if he was unprotected—or defenseless in his own right. Sorcha wouldn’t see it that way, of course: Devlin’s failures to his queen were multiplying.

Midway through a sharp S-turn, Ani turned to look at him rather than the road. “Why kill Seth? You have the logic skills, so help me figure it out.”

“To increase hostilities,” Devlin murmured. “It’s why she does all that she does, to position us for greater discord.”

“And Seth is that important? Huh.”

As are you, Devlin thought, but couldn’t say aloud. Not to her. Not right now. Letting Ani know that she was important enough that the first two faeries both noticed her, that her death had been ordered, that her death was still very possible, that assuring her continued life had been his greatest betrayal—of both sisters—and a betrayal he would continue as long as possible… it all felt too weighty to say. Instead, he sat silently.

Ani slid into a parking space, and the engine cut off.

Outside the car, a bustle of mortals milled around at what the signs had proclaimed as a highway “rest stop.” No one appeared to be resting despite the early hour. Mortals walked over to nondescript buildings, returning with as little notice of the world as they had when they entered. A few faeries perched in the boughs of trees in a dusty area where some mortals let their pets relieve themselves. One black- and-white dog snarled at a rowan-man who swiped at it for trying to urinate on him.

“I’m stretching while you think or ignore me or whatever you’re doing.” Ani opened the door and left.

Which isn’t safe. He thought of the possibilities: of their being followed, of Sorcha—or Bananach—knowing that Ani was fleeing, of solitaries knowing she mattered, of random faeries trying to attack her because she was thought to be fair game. The world suddenly looked more menacing than it ever had before.

He was out of the tiny car and following her in a heartbeat, but she was already across the parking lot and headed into a building. She was Hound-fast, especially when displeased. He followed her through a heavy door—and was greeted by angry expressions from several mortal women and girls standing at a row of washbasins.

“Are you okay, sugar?” one older mortal asked Ani. The woman clutched a small black canister with a spray nozzle.

“Devlin.” Ani took his hand. She walked the several steps to the door. “You can’t follow me into the ladies’ room. Out.”

He looked around, assessing everyone in the room—most of whom were staring at him. He nodded. “I’ll be outside the door. If there is a danger—”

“I know.” Her voice was free of emotion, but the look in her eyes wasn’t. She was inordinately pleased by something.

While he pondered the curious way she looked at him, Devlin stood outside the washroom, positioning himself as close to the door as he could be without blocking it.

And he listened to the mortals talking to Ani.

“Are you in trouble, sugar? He seems awfully worried.” The same mortal woman spoke.

“He’s shaken up over a scare earlier.” Ani undoubtedly knew that he was listening, but her voice was at a normal volume. “He’s sensitive like that, but I’m not—I’m not as afraid as he is.”

“Bless your heart, you poor things,” the woman replied. “Well, I’ll wait right here while you use the facilities. He can’t come in here, but you’re not alone.”

Outside the door, Devlin smiled to himself at the woman’s kindness. Her efforts would be futile if there were a threat to Ani, but if the Hound was the mortal she appeared to be, the woman’s kindness could be an asset. It was the sort of mortal selflessness that had astounded Devlin over the centuries.

The other mortals, who’d kept a distance from Ani at hearing her words, weren’t the only sort found in the world. Unlike so many faeries, mortals were unpredictable. Like Ani. It confounded him—and made him strangely awed.

When Ani walked out, the mortal woman stood protectively beside her. They stopped in front of him, and before the woman could speak, Ani hugged her. “You’re a good person.”

“Well…” The woman looked a little startled, but she still reached forward and squeezed Ani’s hand. “You be safe.”

Ani nodded, and cuddled against Devlin as if they were something more than strangers. “I will. He’ll take care of me. Right, Dev?”

“One can hope,” Devlin murmured.

After a few moments of chatter, the woman walked over to a mortal man who was standing several feet away waiting for her.

Ani stayed pressed against Devlin’s side and sighed in a way that evoked a number of inappropriate thoughts. He held his emotions as close to even as he could. He didn’t share his secrets or his emotions with anyone. Except Rae. A stray worry for his bodiless friend assailed him. With it came the curious realization that he wished he could introduce Rae to Ani.