Into the Fire (The Unseelie Court Book 4) by Gwen Rivers (latest ebook reader .TXT) 📕

Nicneven was born of Underhill. She has fey in her blood. But the monarchs are tainted. The entire court system is biased. You’ve seen firsthand how those without magic struggle. Do you really think a former mortal with all the life experience of a sixteen-year-old can make things better?”

The truth in her statement unsettles him. He remains quiet until she slides a massive omelet in front of him.

“She’s been doing her best. The best that she knows how. The Fates didn’t tell her who she was because they wanted her to have as normal a life as possible for as long as she could.”

She whips more eggs and adds them to the pan, before shooting him a pitying look. “Aiden, she started killing when she was six-years-old. Do you really think Nic ever had anything resembling a normal life?”

Plans

More days drag by as I stare at the four walls of my cell. I do what prisoners have done since the beginning of incarceration. I work out. Though the medics who tend me warn not to overdo it—I had been shot recently and am expecting—I do sit-ups, planks, squats and lunges, mountain climbers and burpees. Freda will kick my flabby ass if I let jail soften me.

At night—or what passes for night as the Feds control even the lighting—I talk to Astrid. She has a funny quirky sense of humor. I tell her about my friends, about Freda and Nahini and Jasmine or Lady Jazz as Aiden calls her. My hair has grown out again, the white-blond now down past my chin, with the dyed black bits hanging past my shoulders. If I had something to cut it, I would.

“He sounds perfect,” Astrid interjects as I finish a story about the house Aiden had planned to build in the North Carolina Mountains.

“No one is perfect.” It has taken me a long time to come to terms with that.

“So were the two of you just going to live there, in the woods, all alone?”

I open my mouth to respond, then close it again without speaking. “I guess it was supposed to be more of a retreat. You know a vacation spot?”

“So where were you going to live?” she asks.

The Unseelie underground palace. Where the queen of the Shadow Throne always resides from Samhain to Beltane. “Wherever we had work.”

Would I have to kill Gretchen to get Fenrir off the throne? The thought sickens me. Even with the wolf at the helm, I still had liked Gretchen. She was innocent, much like Astrid. And like Astrid, she is paying the price for getting roped into our supernatural world.

“Tell me about you, Astrid.”

She is cautious, maybe even more paranoid than I am. While I think she believes me when I say I want to help her, she doesn’t seem to believe that I can. Or maybe that I will.

“What do you want to know?” she asks.

“You said you ran away. Were your parents…bad?” Did you kill them?

“Foster parents. I’ve never had the real kind.”

“An orphan then?” My heart lurches as I think of the blonde woman on the beach.

“Something like that. Being placed in a house doesn’t make it a home, you know.” Her tone is hard and unyielding.

“Wasn’t there anyone there you liked?”

She gnaws on her thumbnail. “There was one boy, Declan. He was only there for a few months though. His mom got out of rehab and he went back to live with her.”

“What did Declan look like?” I ask.

“I thought he was a giant.”

I blink and then, realize she isn’t talking about the kinds of giants I knew. She just means large for a mortal.

“He told me how it happened. A neighbor had called to report shouts from their apartment. I guess one of his mother’s boyfriends had knocked her around. Declan came home from school and beat the hell out of the guy.”

“How old was he?”

Astrid shifts, I can hear the creak of her bedsprings. “Probably around fifteen. He was big for his age though. The cops came and took him into custody. They were going to send him to Juvie for assault, but his lawyer got him off. He had only been protecting his mother. She had to get clean though before he could go home. It took her about six months, then she came and got him.”

“And he was your friend?” It seemed odd to me that a large boy with serious anger issues would look after a delicate flower-like Astrid.

“He was the best friend I ever had. He would take me down to the river, teach me how to fish. Sometimes we would just sit together.” Her expression is soft.

Astrid, who loves to hear about love had already given her young heart away.

“And so he went home with his mom and they lived happily ever after?”

Her gaze darted away. “I never heard from him again. That was a few weeks before Agent Hanson picked me up.”

Which didn’t mean her gift hadn’t told her exactly what had happened to her friend. I don’t pry though. If Astrid wanted to tell me, she would. I glean some insights from her tale. Declan had been important to her. The oversized boy who would fight off a full-grown man to protect his mother, the drug addict. And that the longest connection Astrid has ever had with anyone is a few measly weeks.

“Astrid, tell me what it is you can do. Why are you here?”

“I’m a freak.” She whispers the words that jab a cold shard right into my heart.

“I can kill with a kiss.” It’s a leap, trusting this stranger. Gods know I have never benefited from demonstrating trust before. You have to give a little to get a little. It’s what Addy always said about the injured animals that were brought to her veterinary clinic. They won’t bite or scratch me if I don’t hurt them first.

Addy had plenty of practice gentling wild beasts.

“You can?” Astrid’s eyes go wide. “You’ve actually killed people?”

“I call it the goodnight kiss.”