“Urian?” she said shakily.
“My word, Katherine of Miller, that I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe,” he promised.
“That was just a scratch.” She looked around, no longer the confident young woman he’d spent the day with, and Urian felt panic rise in his heart.
“All I ask is that you not leave me,” he whispered. “I amyours.”
She nodded, but her words were tense. “I’m not sure what’s happening here.”
“Neither am I,” he confessed. The peril of being one of the rarest sorts of faeries was that there was no one to ask, no oldergancanaghto answer questions.
A solitary faery Urian had never met stepped forward then. “Look away, you gawkers. Give the boy a little space to begin the bond with his lady.”
She looked older, angry and nearly human. Aside from the skirt of dead rodents that draped across her hips, she might pass for any court’s fey. The dead things were still dripping blood, though, and for that, Urian had no words.
Most of the assembled creatures scurried to obey her. When they did, she reached out and smacked Urian on the back of the head. “What are you doing, Urian? Give the girl a moment to think.”
“Hey!” Katherine stepped forward, as if she was a force to reckon with instead of a woman barely through the awakening of the fey side of her heritage.
“I likeyou,” the faery said. “Considerate thing, aren’t you? Balance his impetuous self.”
Then the creature grinned, flashing sharp teeth that looked more daggers than teeth. “You don’t recognize me?”
Urian stared at her, let his vision slide to the corners of his eyes. Mortals thought that they were the only ones who used that trick, but some of the rawest magic could only be seen sideways.
“Creature?” he asked.
“Callisto,” she said, curtseying.
Urian gaped at her as she stood, rolling her shoulders like she was stiff.
“Been a minute since I had no paws, hooves, or wheels.” Callisto tilted her head, cracking her neck. “Been no need, though, has there? Mind your silly ass. Keep an eye on you, Sorcha says. Protect the pup.”
“Pup?” Katherine echoed. “And you’re thecar?”
“Sometimes.” Callisto looked at them both. “You can’t marry the girl, Uri. You just met her.”
“Marry?”
Callisto laughed, which to Urian’s ears sounded like a war cry. Whatever she was, Callisto wasn’t one to dismiss. He wasn’t sure what shewas, though. He’d rarely felt as young or inept as he did in that moment.
“You were offering a binding vow,” Callisto said. “And if this one”—she hooked a thumb toward Katherine—“is as impulsive as you . . .”
No one spoke.
Then Callisto clapped her hands together. “Boom. Wife. Husband. That’s what you were doing, Uri.”
He looked at Katherine. “I didn’t mean to . . . I didn’t know . . .”
“Lust faeries,” Callisto muttered. “Can’t leave them to their own. End up spending centuries pouting like your Da did. If not for Thelma in his path, we’d all have been dealing with the fall out of Irial and the scarred boy’s terrible romance.”
“The who?” Katherine asked.
“Last Dark King? This pup’s da? Irial used to be all moon-eyed over a gancanagh who rejected him,” Callisto explained.
“The gancanagh who is now the current Dark King,” Urian added. “My father stole my mother’s throne, her life, and then tossed his throne at his ex-lover rather than to his children where it ought to rightfully have gone.”
Callisto wacked the back of Urian’s head again. “Didn’t remember you existed, did he?”