And, as the night went on and a predawn stillness settled over the Nevernever, we did.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
THE SECOND COUNCIL
“Ethan Chase?”
An insistent tapping wrenched me out of a comfortable sleep. Blearily, I cracked open my eyes, glaring at the far wall and the packrat-shaped silhouette beyond the tent flaps. I was warm, a heavy quilt covered my body, and most important, my arm was still curled around a sleeping Kenzie. For maybe the first time since I’d come to the Nevernever, I was reluctant to move.
Tap tap tap. “Ethan Chase?” Tap tap tap. “Are you in there? Are you awake?”
“No,” I growled over Kenzie’s shoulder. “Go away.”
The packrat hesitated, maybe confused by the obvious lie out of my mouth, or that I’d given him an order he couldn’t obey. “Forgive me, Prince Ethan,” it continued timidly, “but Her Highness the queen has requested your presence. The prince consort and Robin Goodfellow have arrived. The war council is about to start.”
I sighed. “All right,” I called softly, hoping I wouldn’t wake Kenzie just yet. “I’m coming. Tell them I’m on my way.”
The silhouette bobbed and shuffled off, taking its annoying tap-taps with it. I levered myself to an elbow and gently pulled back the quilt, just enough to reveal the girl beside me. As usual, Kenzie was dead to the world, sleeping soundly, her beautiful face free of worry and stress. Damn, I loved her. I wished we could’ve had a little more time. Without faery wars, politics and ancient Forgotten queens screwing everything up.
But wishing never worked in the Nevernever. Not like you wanted it to.
I kissed Kenzie’s shoulder, then nuzzled below her ear, slipping an arm around her waist. She stirred with a sigh, then dark brown eyes cracked open to peer back at my face.
“Hey,” I greeted, and she gave me a sleepy smile that made me want to kiss her all over again. I restrained myself, remembering what was at stake. “This is going to suck, but the war council is here. They’re waiting for us.”
Her nose wrinkled, and she groaned, trying to pull the covers over her head. “Five more minutes,” she mumbled.
I chuckled. “Yeah, sadly, faeries aren’t known for their patience. I don’t think that will go over well.” She groaned again, and I kissed the back of her neck. “You don’t have to come,” I told her, sliding back off the cot. “Stay here and sleep if you want. But I have to go.”
She harrumphed and sat up, pulling the quilt around herself. “No, I’m coming, too,” she sighed as I yanked on my jeans, then grabbed my T-shirt at the foot of the bed. “No rest for the weary, I suppose.”
I pulled my shirt over my head, then searched around for my sword belt. “Look on the bright side,” I said, dragging it out from beneath the cot. “At least Razor didn’t pop in last night screaming kissy-kissy and making me want to kill him.”
“I wonder where he is?” Kenzie mused, gazing around the tent, as if the bat-eared monster could be hiding in the shadows. “I hope he’s okay with the other gremlins, wherever they are.”
“I’m sure he’ll show up eventually,” I said, buckling my swords to my waist. “Probably at the most inopportune time possible.” Grabbing my shoes, I strode to the bed, bent down and kissed her on the mouth. “I’ll wait outside,” I told her, pulling back. “Take your time, but if I start to hear snoring, I’m going on without you.”
Kenzie frowned. “I don’t snore! Do I snore?”
“Um. I should go,” I answered, and fled the tent.
Outside, the sky was still dark, but the Iron camp itself pulsed with gentle light, from the lampposts on the corners, to fey carrying lanterns, to the metallic fireflies that blipped through the air in shades of orange, blue and green. It was peaceful, quiet. The calm before the storm.
Kenzie emerged from the tent and yawned, stretching her arms over her head. I slipped up behind her, winding my arms around her waist, and kissed the side of her neck. “Ready?”
“Not really,” she sighed, leaning into me. “But I guess we can’t keep them waiting any longer.”
I laced her hand through mine, and we walked through the quiet streets of the Iron camp, passing knights and the occasional wire nymph, until we reached the large commander’s tent in the middle. A trio of Winter knights waited on one outside corner, glaring at the squad of Summer knights on the opposite side, so it looked like Mab and Oberon were already here. Ignoring the dark looks from Summer and Winter, we walked up to the entrance, nodded to the lone Iron knight who guarded the door, and slipped inside.
Meghan stood at the head of the table again, which was surrounded by fey once more. Only this time, instead of scouts and random Iron fey, all the heavy hitters of Faery stood shoulder to shoulder with each other. Oberon was there, and Titania the Summer Queen, looking like she would rather be anywhere else. Mab stood across from them, radiating power and causing one side of the table to be edged with frost. Ash stood to one side of Meghan, appearing grim and protective, and Robin Goodfellow leaned casually against a wall with his arms crossed and faint smirk plastered to his face, as if he found all of this secretly amusing. There were other faeries in the room: scouts and lieutenants, Glitch and one very large troll captain, but those six were the only fey that mattered.
Well, seven, really.
Annwyl stood a little behind Meghan, head bowed, eyes downcast, almost invisible. If it wasn’t for the dull glint from the amulet, I wouldn’t even have noticed her standing there. She seemed...less real than the faeries surrounding her, more shadow than anything, and the rest of the fey didn’t appear to notice her, either.