If he could talk, he’d blister the earth with his curses to the foul fae bitch. As it was, he could only hang there and feel his body grow oddly numb, feel the hope leach out of him even as his wounds knitted themselves closed.

The fae’s carmine lips curled with clear satisfaction. “Enjoy your immortality, love.”

She stepped away from him, and he sagged against the chains that held him, a sob crawling up his throat, despite his resolve to hide it. Already he’d lost his sense of touch. The breeze making the trees dance did not soothe his skin, nor did the light of the sun warm it.

Despair wracked him, and he looked up to find the angel Augustus before him. Silver eyes locked onto him. “Aodh MacNiall, while I cannot spare you from the curse that Mab has spun, I can grant you this. As you have been cursed to live amongst the dead, so shall you be soulbound to them. Death shall be the source of your greatest power and your salvation. Look to the dead to lead you to your soul’s mate. She will dwell amongst them. When you find her, you shall feel once more, and you shall love.”

“You cannot,” screeched Mab.

“And yet I have.” Augustus stared at Mab, and it seemed his wings stretched wider, his chest lifting higher. “Do you wish to challenge me in this?”

The fae broke the stare first, her cheeks flushed with rage. “Interfering pest.” Mab gave a huff but then glanced at Aodh, her dark gaze calculating. “And if he fails to find his soul mate or she rejects him?”

“Then he remains as he is.”

No! The denial screamed in Aodh’s mind.

Augustus regarded him with an expression as smooth a still waters. “You have seven hundred years to complete your quest, Aodh, or Mab’s curse remains.” Kind eyes surveyed him. “Worry not. ’Tis but a drop in the bucket of time.”

To immortal beings perhaps, but to Aodh, it was nearly unfathomable. Centuries of hell stretched forth, a bleak, empty road.

The angel held his gaze. “One more gift, to help you on your way.” Ignoring Mab’s squawks of protest, Augustus pressed the tips of his fingers against Aodh’s forehead. “I grant you the ability to create life out of what was once dead.”

Light, so much light. Blinding brilliance. It shimmered around him, took his breath, filled him up until it seemed to pour from his mouth, out of his eyes, ears, and nose. Until Aodh became light. Power, a dizzy rush akin to that which he felt in the heat of battle, took hold and settled into his very bones.

When the angel stepped away, his body appeared limned in a silver light that was as pure as any Aodh had seen. His soul. I see his very soul. Nay, it could not be.

“But it is,” said the angel as though Aodh had voiced his fear. “You shall see the light of every being’s soul. Even your own. Your soul’s true mate shall have a light that mirrors yours.”

Unable to help himself, Aodh glanced down at himself. Golden light, pale as new butter and tinged with glimmers of diamond brightness, swirled about him, and yet, right over where his heart dwelled, there was darkness. His soul, torn and waiting to be filled. The mere idea terrified Aodh. Enough that he found his voice, raw and untested though it was. “And you, angel? What shall you require for this gift you place upon me?”

The angel smiled, fond and amused. “Brave knight, that you be true to honor. Soulbound to death as you are, let them be your army and fight for what is good and true. Pick your children well, Aodh.”

Aodh glanced at the fae bitch. Her eyes gleamed with unholy green light, wee fangs sliding down over black lips.

“Aye,” he rasped, rage filling his throat. “That I shall do.”

Finishing his tale, Adam cleared his throat and glanced about. He’d almost forgotten where he was. Holly and Thorne looked thoughtful. As for Eliza, her face was pale and her expression drawn. He could not fathom what she thought.

But then she glanced at him, and her velvety eyes were moist. “All that suffering for refusing Mab?”

“And for stealing,” he admitted. “I cannot deny that.”

“Even so,” she said, “it hardly seems fair.”

“Fair? What does Mab care for fairness? If you are to survive,” he went on in a harder tone, “what you must understand about the fae is that they view life as a chess match. Every move they make is measured by how it will affect the final outcome, not the here or now.”

He traced the carved whorl in the arm of the chair, watching his finger move instead of facing all of them. “Something I myself forgot. I thought more of what I wanted than of what lengths Mab would go to in order to get what she wanted. I thought like a human, not an immortal.”

Silence was a ticking clock, the weight of their collective judgment bearing down upon him.

“We are all pawns,” Thorne said softly.

“Yes.” Adam glanced up. “But you are not human now. And clearly with Miss Evernight once more.”

Holly gave a tight smile. “William remembered me. Mab and I had a little chat, in which I destroyed her mortal body and sent her back to the fae lands.” She leaned in a little, bracing her arm upon her knees. “And yet she has returned.”

It was Eliza who answered. “She disappeared for a few weeks in May. Then returned one night, saying she’d been in the country. I’m afraid I never sought to question it. Nor any of her actions.”

“She returned rather quickly,” Holly said. “I was under the impression that she would need more time to regain her strength.”