Ever After (Rachel Morgan)

becoming what his people needed, and I wasn’t part of that—except perhaps at the fringes, where a demon always was. “And?” I prompted, voice shaking.
    “And I’m sorry,” he said, the tiniest hint of pleading hidden behind his calm voice ringing through me. “I’ll do better next time.”
    Next time?
    He reached across the small space between us, and as Quen quietly voiced his protest with a dramatic sigh, Trent turned my fist over and opened it up. His touch was warm on my wrist, and then my palm as he nudged the smaller slave ring from the other and . . . slipped it over his pinkie.
    “Trent, no!” I said, reaching out, but he hid his hand behind his back, his eyes daring me to try to take it. “What are you doing?”
    Determination tightened the corners of his mouth, and he stood poised as if surprised that nothing had changed. But then it wouldn’t until someone claimed the master ring. Quen’s head was down, and I wondered if this was Trent’s perverted way of saying he was sorry. That if I could take being a slave, he could, too.
    “We need to try it again,” Trent said, and I closed my hand when he reached for the master ring.
    “I’m not putting that thing on,” I said, face hot as I backed away. “Even if it is the dominant one. It’s foul. It needs to be destroyed.”
    “I couldn’t agree with you more.” Trent’s confidence was a thin shadow. He was scared. I could see it, and still he came forward and pulled my arm out from behind me. “But if you dominate me with the old, very wild magic that you rekindled, Ku’Sox can’t force me to be his familiar.”
    Quen dropped into a chair, his head in his hands. Hesitating, I squinted at Trent, gauging his resolve in the slant of his eyes. My fingers twitched, and I let him open my palm. “Really?”
    “I think so. That was my first idea. Quen wanted to try it the other way first. It was the only way he would arrange for Riffletic’s rings to be pulled. That was a bad idea. That, and not including you in my— our —decision.”
    I shivered as he touched my shoulder, his other hand still cradling mine with the ring. Was he serious, or just trying to make me not so mad at him?
    “You are not a tool, Rachel. I’ve never thought of you that way.”
    I broke eye contact, staring at the ring instead. “You should have told me,” I said, only realizing now that I’d forgiven him already. I was so stupid. But he was right. Al had said Trent was the better match. With Trent’s help, I could do this. We could do this.
    His hand fell from me, and Trent took the suit jacket that Quen stoically handed him. “Yes, I know,” he said as he let it drop and took up the lab coat instead.
    I felt Bis move before he shifted a wing, and I stood waiting when he made the short hop to me, landing upon my shoulder, his tail curving across my back and up under my arm. It was a far more secure position than around my neck, and I let the awful horror of the lines race through me. There was a hint of purity in them, and it gave me hope.
    “Where to?” Trent asked, and I slipped the master ring onto my finger.
    Trent’s knees buckled, and both Quen and I reached for him. “My God!” Trent gasped, as he caught himself against the desk, a hand to his forehead.
    “Sorry,” I whispered, trying to be as innocuous and undemanding as I could. Bis’s tail tightened, and I wondered if some of it might be the lines, though he’d felt them through Bis before.
    Eyes watering, Trent gestured for Quen to back off. “The lines are . . . indescribably awful,” Trent managed, pulling himself to his full height, looking shaken but undeterred.
    “That’s why the gargoyles are upset,” I said as I linked my arm in his, and he started. “If you don’t like it, you can bubble your thoughts. You think it’s bad now, you should have heard it before Bis fixed your line.”
    “Can we go?” Bis almost whined. “The sooner we fix another, the better I’ll feel.”
    I took a deep breath and nodded my farewell to Quen. The sun would be up far too soon. I had to finish it by then. “Then by all means, let’s go.”
    And we were gone.

Chapter Twenty-Nine
    S wirling, howling colors of noise beat at me as I floundered in a wide river of energy. It was so thick I could hardly think. Fatigue pulled at me. It was getting harder to keep myself intact. Bis? I thought, searching for something familiar, and his presence joined mine, a solid, soothing