What? A widening of awareness expanded in me, and Red tossed her head as Bis swooped in, landing among the saddles across the corridor. His pushed-in face was tight in anger, and his feet clenched his perch hard enough to make the wood creak.

“I am not a black witch or a black demon,” I said, rigid in anger. “Demon magic makes smut, and I don’t do the bad stuff. Ask anyone in Cincy or the Hollows who does, and you’ll get the same answer. Now take your white-bread ass out of Red’s box before I throw you out.”

A soft scuff drew my attention to the end of the hall. Trent stood there, and my face warmed. Had he lost political power because of me? Because I worked for him?

“Landon?” Trent’s voice sounded icy cold and angry. “Would you help me with Bancroft. His balance is chancy.”

With a final warning glance, Landon nodded. “Absolutely.” He turned to me as if to say something, changing his mind when I pulled on the line in a silent warning to not touch me. He was lucky all I’d done was shove him. Seeing my hair beginning to snarl under the line’s energy, he nodded, as if I’d confirmed his claim, and left.

I backed up to soothe Red, though to be honest, I was the one who needed the soothing.

Trent watched Landon go past him in search of Bancroft, and I shook my head when he wordlessly asked me if he wanted me to intervene. Mood bad, Trent followed Landon, and I busied myself with Red. Damn it, I could have probably handled that better.

“You okay, Ms. Rachel?” Bis asked, and I closed my eyes in a long blink.

“Fine,” I said, my hand brushing Red. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to bring you in here.”

Bis shifted his feet. There were dents in the heavy wood. “He’s a jerk. Forget him.”

But I couldn’t. He wasn’t just a jerk, but one with the power to cause a lot of trouble. I’d known my working as Trent’s security was going to raise eyebrows, but he hadn’t seemed to care. He’d probably care now; the enclave was the political house of the elves, and therefore important. “He shouldn’t have touched me.”

“I know. That’s why I came to check.”

He was a good kid, and his ears pricked as the soft voices of Trent and Landon became more obvious. “You okay now?” he asked, and when I nodded, he stretched his wings and looked at the nearby open door. “I’ll be outside when you’re ready to go,” he added, and Landon’s horse tied to the door shied when he flew out like a huge bat.

Trent’s voice raised, his anger clear as he said, “I didn’t ask you here to test her morality. I asked you here to help solve a problem.”

“I think she is the problem,” Landon said, not a hint of remorse in his voice. “She is covered in smut. Smut caused by demon magic. She admits it.”

“She admitted to doing black magic?”

“No, but that’s the only place smut comes from.”

What part of our conversation weren’t you listening to? All of it? I wondered, feeling icky as I strained to hear Trent say, “I watched her use a demon curse this week. It created a ball of light. It hurt no one, not even herself, and it caused smut. It was not black. Your logic is unsound, Landon. And I will stand in the enclave and say the same thing. Back. Off.”

But my relief was short-lived. “Sa’han, if I may be candid, the reason the dewar is insisting on this marriage is because of your continuing association with demons.”

“Rachel is—”

“Not a demon? Yes, she is, and you can’t pull her back once you have pushed her across that line. I’ve seen all I need. Drop this association or you will lose what little support you still have. Marrying Ellasbeth is no longer enough to maintain your standing, living heirs or not.”

Shocked, I slipped back into the stall as I understood what he was saying. Trent was being forced into this marriage because of me. To maintain control of the enclave and elven society, he had to marry Ellasbeth. He’d helped me survive, and I helped him in turn, and now he was going to lose everything.

“Landon!” Bancroft bellowed, and Red stomped, wanting to be out in the night.

“Your master is calling,” Trent said, tone collected, but I could hear his anger.

I turned my back as the sound of Landon’s boots went faint, not moving until the clop of another horse’s hooves pulled me back around. Trent stood with Tulpa, the big animal watching Red with pricked ears. Trent’s face looked as frustrated as mine, serious in dismay. I wasn’t a black demon, but all the masses saw was perception, not truth.

“There’s been a change in plan,” he said, and I cinched Red’s saddle tight and led her out. “I’m going with you, not Landon.”

“Fine with me,” I said, handing him Red’s reins and swinging up onto Tulpa as if I’d ridden the huge animal every day of my life. I gave him a nudge, and he leaped for the door, his sudden burst of speed breathless. Trent was right behind, and we took the fence at the end of the paddock together, the wind in my hair and the darkness spilling through me as we ran for the hill, oblivious of everything as my thoughts churned.

Three months ago I might have simply shaken Trent’s hand and walked away. Now . . . it wasn’t that easy.

Fourteen

Tulpa was a sweet, biddable horse, and I gave the old stallion a little pat as Trent came up beside us. Both horses shunned the tall, whispering grass, already having sampled it to find it as distasteful as everything else in the ever-after. The harsh landscape had a dusky red sheen, the nearly full moon nearing the western horizon. It was just shy of midnight and we’d been riding for hours. I could tell Trent was tired, but he didn’t say anything as he brought his binoculars up, looking like a thief in his black pants and jacket with a matching black knit hat, scanning for a landmark that might be mirrored in reality where we could take simultaneous readings with Landon and Bancroft. I didn’t really know why we were doing this anymore, except that if there was a chance that me parking it in the ever-after might wake the masters up, I’d do it.

Grit ground between my fingers as I wiped my face. A lot had changed since I’d traveled the ever-after that night with Trent. I glanced at Trent’s closed expression—a lot hadn’t.

Surface demons had found us almost as soon as we’d gotten the horses snorting and prancing across the realities. They had to be interested in the horses because Trent and I were clearly able to protect ourselves and surface demons preyed only on the weak.

“Where do you think we are?” Trent said, his expression lost behind the binoculars.

I shrugged, forgetting he couldn’t see, then took my foot out of the stirrup to push Tulpa away from Red. He was making eyes at her even though she wasn’t in season. “The industrial park, maybe?” I said. “That rise is probably in reality.”

Trent’s binoculars shifted to it. A rock clinked behind us, and he dropped them to rest on his chest. Expression grim, he nudged Red into a tight spin so we could watch each other’s back. The horse’s nostrils widened as she breathed in the scent of the surface demons. They were close—and becoming bolder.

“Bis?” I called, and the little gargoyle dropped to a nearby rock jutting from the surface. Red shied, but she calmed almost immediately under Trent’s hand.

Bis’s eyes seemed to glow in the shadow light, his black teeth glinting as he smiled. “You’ve six surface demons trailing,” he said, and Trent’s frown deepened.

“How close?”

“Not close. Not since I dropped a rock on one.” Bis chuckled, which sounded like rocks in a garbage disposal. “They’re curious about the horses, I think.”

Curious, or hungry? We had to get moving. “Bis, could you tell Bancroft we want to take a reading on that hill?”

His wings opened, and Red snorted at Bis’s rapid flapping and sudden liftoff as he made the short jaunt in mere moments. He hovered over the hill until I waved to tell him that was the spot, and then he winked out of the ever-after.

“Ready?” I prompted, and Trent spun Red around, neck arched and wanting to run. Bis would take Bancroft and Landon to the hill in reality, and then pop back so we could all take simultaneous readings. Trent was working the meter, but I was writing the results down as well.

We went to the hill in a slow canter, Trent fighting Red all the way. The mare was showing an increasingly dangerous alarm at what scuffed, trilled, and clinked. Once at the top, we settled in to wait, looking out over the wide expanse of basically nothing.

Before us and to the left were the remains of Cincinnati. The ever-after wasn’t altogether real, and definitely not its own identity. Buildings rose when a new one went up in reality, but they broke even as they ghosted into existence, which was why the demons lived underground where their caverns remained untouched by what we did in the real world. The ever-after was a shadow of reality, populated by surface demons who were not demons at all.

I’d once believed the tall, skinny wraiths were the ancestors of elves or witches who had refused to flee the ever-after and had since been damaged by the ever-after sun. Now I wondered if they were really the shadows of people in reality, with their torn auras and malnourished state, but that didn’t fit, either. Unlike the surface structures, they clearly had an independence from anything in reality. Al wouldn’t talk about them, which made me wonder if they’d once been demons, now caught in an elven charm, destined to live in limbo forever—or at least until the two worlds collided.

We didn’t have anything to do until Bis returned to tell us that Landon and Bancroft were in place, and I gave Trent a glance. He wasn’t a big talker to begin with, but the more something bothered him, the less he was likely to talk about it . . . or anything else. Since Landon had given him the dewar’s ultimatum, he hadn’t said much of anything. “Trent, what does elven history say about surface demons?”

Somehow his expression became even more closed. “Nothing,” he said, his voice clipped. “Rachel, I’d like to apologize for Landon.”

A stab of alarm cut through me. “There’s nothing to apologize for.”

Brow furrowed, he looked past me to the horizon. He looked odd with that knit hat on, fair hair poking out from under it. “You have every right to file assault charges. He searched your aura, yes?” he said, flushed in anger. “What he did was appalling, and I apologize.”

“I’m more worried about what he said than what he did. Trent—”

“I keep the company I wish, and no one is going to dictate otherwise.”

“But—”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Rachel.”

He didn’t want to talk about it. Fine. But this wasn’t over. I liked him too much for him to sacrifice everything just so I could go on more dates thinly disguised as his security. “Ivy told me that they put Felix back in charge of the I.S.”

Frowning, he looked over his shoulder at the shattered remains of Cincinnati as if it was a premonition. “I heard that too.”

“He’s not sane.”

Red’s nostrils were flaring, and she was trying her best to find something to spook at. “When are any of the undead?” he said, calming her. “They need a figurehead, and maybe he’ll lead us to the Free Vampire faction. Is Nina okay?” he asked, surprising me. “I heard she was involved in an incident at Rynn Cormel’s.”

That was a nice way of putting it. “No. It was a big setback,” I said, shoving the ugly images away. “Ivy’s not giving up. She’s proof that you can escape them.”

“Love is strong that way,” he said as he brought Red back from the edge with half his attention. Landon had threatened him, but I couldn’t believe that his giving the elves viable children was worth nothing. Unless they believed it was through me. Through demon magic.

Red finally gave up trying to bolt, and Trent settled into the saddle. The last couple of months with Trent had been . . . interesting. With Ellasbeth threatening to stay, I was seeing things in the light of “last time” and I was shocked to realize I didn’t like it, especially not with Landon’s threat. If not for the different tax bracket thing, or that he was going to be engaged, or that because of me, he’d lose everything if he didn’t marry Ellasbeth . . .

Good God. I need to just walk away.

Trent’s grip tightened on the reins. Fearing surface demons, I spun to look down the hill, but there was nothing. Turning back, I froze as I saw his angry determination from under his bangs. “Al warned me off you yesterday. While you and Newt had your tea party,” he said, and my shoulders stiffened. “I find that amusing,” he said bitterly. “Five thousand years, and everyone is still fighting their damned war. And the elves are no better. The enclave’s questioning of my status is based on an ancient law that limits my voice should I wed a barren woman. No children means no voice.”

“But you have a child,” I said, then bit my tongue.

“It’s an excuse,” Trent said. “Someone wants the progress I’ve made between the demons and elves stopped, and silencing my voice is the easiest way to do that.”

“Oh.” Embarrassed, I fiddled with making Tulpa’s reins exactly the same length. But then I flushed as a new thought niggled and twisted its way deeper. He wasn’t upset because of an archaic tradition equating children with power. He was upset that the dewar had told him it was Ellasbeth and power, or me and nothing. And he wanted both. Trent didn’t take no well.

“There’s no reason—” he started again.