“You can’t kill her.”

“Really?” Ani pushed off the building and spun so she was standing facing him. Her feet were spread in a fighter’s stance. Her eyes were shimmering with the same sulfurous glow as the eyes of the Hounds’ steeds. “Tell me why.”

He’d told no one his sisters’ secrets. For eternity, he’d lived for them, but Faerie was coming unmade, and the mortal world would be devastated if Bananach brought about a true faery war. The time for protecting the twins’ secrets had ended.

“Come inside.” He held out his hand to Ani. It shook. The thought of her refusing him mattered more than anything should. He’d still be there if she grew cold to him, but it would ache the way few things ever could.

She looked at him with the monstrous green gaze of the Hunt. “Irial is inside. He won’t let me go after her.”

He nodded. “I know.”

“I am the Hunt. Tish is—was—my sister. She was a part of me, my best friend. I cannot just accept this.” Ani’s tears had stopped; rage hummed in her words and body. “No one kills the Hunt without vengeance. Gabriel might not have called her Pack, but I do.”

“Come inside with me.” He kept his hand outstretched and added, “Please?”

She took his hand in hers. “I want her blood, Devlin. I want her death. I want her to ache.”

He opened the door to the studio and motioned for her to precede him. “I understand.”

And he did. If anyone hurt Ani, he’d feel the same way, but that didn’t change the impossibility of killing Bananach.

There is no return from this. He wasn’t sure that a return had been possible for some time.

“I go where you go, Ani,” Devlin told her. “We need to talk first. I need to tell you and Irial”—he paused and considered the consequences of the trusts he was breaking— “truths that are not to be shared.”

She held his gaze. “I want her to hurt.”

He didn’t flinch. “I know, but I need you to listen.”

Mutely, she nodded.

He kept his fingers laced with hers as they went back to the kitchen.

“Rabbit’s… he’ll be back out in a minute.” Irial glanced at the doorway. “He’ll be better now that you’re here.”

Ani sat at the table, still holding Devlin’s hand in hers.

Devlin took the chair next to her. There was no delicate way to share what he had to say, nor was this the time for prevarications. He simply said, “If you kill Bananach, Sorcha will die. If Sorcha dies, we all die. The twins are balanced halves, the two energies that came first. Before them and after them, there is nothing. If you kill either of them, every faery will die. Maybe some of the halflings will live, but the rest… we all expire if she dies. Sorcha is essential. She is the source of all our magicks, our longevity, everything. If not, don’t you think Bananach would’ve killed her by now?”

Irial lowered himself to a chair.

Ani sat speechless for a moment, but then began trying to find the hole in his logic. She was irrepressible when she wanted something, and she very badly wanted Bananach’s blood. “How do you know? Maybe they just—”

“I know. They made me, Ani. I call them sisters, but before me, there were only two. The opposition, the balance. It’s what our whole people are based upon. Each court has its opposite. Too much imbalance will cause disaster. Sorcha… she adjusts what she must to assure stasis.”

Irial looked up, and Devlin caught his gaze.

“She will arrange against her wishes to assure the greater balance”—he did not look away from Irial as he made the admission—“even for that court which is her opposition, even as her counterbalance has abandoned Faerie to live among mortals. The Dark Court balances the High Court, but Sorcha requires more: since the start of forever her true counterbalance has been Bananach.”

“Well that just sucks, doesn’t it?” Ani leaned back, but she didn’t pull her hand away from his. “Bananach wants me to kill Seth and Niall—and oh yeah, she wants to kill me… and there’s not a damn thing we can do without killing everyone.”

No one spoke for several heartbeats: there was nothing to say.

Silently, Ani released his hand and left the room.

After Ani walked back down the hallway, Irial started, “Would Sorcha hide Ani?”

Devlin shook his head. “Sorcha ordered me to kill Ani years ago.”

Irial asked, “Because she saw that Ani would… what?”

“I was not privy to that information.” Devlin glanced at the hallway. “I can’t let Ani kill my sisters or let them kill her.”

Irial sighed and lowered his head again. “So we try to keep Ani, Rabbit, Seth, and Niall alive and hope War finds another amusement.”

Devlin felt a strange guilt at adding to the already complex situation. He weighed his words carefully and settled on, “I believe it would be… catastrophic should Seth be killed. In truth, it might be catastrophic if Seth doesn’t return to Faerie soon. Sorcha is asleep, mourning Seth’s absence apparently.”

“Well, that’s… not very orderly, is it?” Irial said.

“Something is wrong with my sister.” Devlin watched Irial pour several cups of coffee. To one cup, he added the cream and solitary sugar cube that Ani favored.

“We’ll figure something out.” Irial gave Devlin a knowing look that reminded him that he’d forgotten to cloak any of his feelings.