“Please, please don’t.” Noli trembled, but she didn’t physically attempt to stop him.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” His voice broke as he brought the hammer down on the sigil, smashing the green stone in the center into tiny pieces.

A wail escaped Noli’s lips, a sad, pained cry that broke his heart into as many pieces as the stone on the uneven floor of the tree house.

They said that breaking the stone in a sigil after you’d bonded with it was physically painful. As she sobbed he wrapped his arms around her. Judging from her cries, it had been. He cursed his mother for it.

“I’m so sorry, darling. I still love you,” he whispered over and over, hopelessness soaking into every pore.

“Why?” she sobbed, body shaking in his arms. “Why?”

He stayed silent, wishing with all his might that he could explain.

Finally, her sobs slowed and she looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes. “Who made you, your mother or your father?”

A little relief flowed through him. At least she realized that it wasn’t him.

“I’ll wait for you. When you’re an adult we can fix this.” She gazed into his eyes.

Him being an adult wouldn’t negate his mother’s order, but hopefully he could find a loophole or something to bargain with.

“Don’t let your mum marry you off.” Gazing into her extraordinary steel eyes which glistened with tears and pain, he cupped her face in his hands. “Unless … unless that’s what you want.” A wealthy mortal man wouldn’t be able to take care of her the way she needed—but his mother had a point about her easily being able to find another Fae.

Kevighn would take her in a moment. The mere thought made his blood boil.

“No. I want only you. Besides, we still have to find a way to make me myself again,” she hiccupped.

“Exactly.” He wasn’t nearly as concerned about her getting back her humanity as he was fully returning her personality.

In silence, he held her in the tree house until pink tinged the sky.

“I … I need to go. I need to get James and pack for my quest,” he told her.

“You’re taking James? Good.” Her voice was muffled by his shirt, her face buried in his neck. “I worry about him with Charlotte gone.”

His fingers traced her cheekbone. “I worry about you.”

How badly would this damage her? The sprite might take over completely by the time he figured this mess out. Sprites didn’t like being unhappy, preferring to live in the moment.

Steven extracted her off his lap, gazing at her one last time, memorizing her face. “I love you, Noli.”

“I love you, too.” Her voice broke and she didn’t look at him. That made his soul ache.

He took the shards of the green stone and the sigil itself, a tree made of gold wire, braches and roots touching forming a circle—the symbol of the House of Oak. The stone formed the tree’s heart. He shoved it in his pocket. Perhaps Quinn could repair it so he’d have it for when they could be together again. If anyone could do it, it would be his tutor.

Noli sat there in the tree house, curled into a ball, sobbing into her knees.

With one last look at her, he climbed down, heart breaking with each of her pitiful cries.

He crossed her back yard and went through the loose board of the fence into his own. When he opened the back door of his house his father stood in the kitchen making a pot of tea. Great. Just what he needed.

“Finally.” His father turned and his blond eyebrows rose. He might be an exile and no longer king, but he still looked the part, even in mortal clothes, with his regal features, neat blond hair, and green eyes that always seemed to see right into his soul. Steven wasn’t sure how long it had been since his father held a sword, but he’d remained broad-shouldered and muscular.

“Her Majesty wished to speak with me,” he mumbled. Really, he’d hoped to leave without seeing his father.

“Are you all right?” He took two cups down and set them on the counter.

“I didn’t realize you cared.” Bitterness flowed through his voice.

His father poured tea into one of the cups and handed it to him, then poured another. Taking it in his hands, his father leaned against the counter and drank.

“I may not be the best father in any of the realms, but I do care … even if I have trouble showing it. She’s calling in her favor isn’t she?” Notes of I told you so rang through his father’s voice, but to give him credit he didn’t say it.

Never bargain with the high queen. You’ll lose.

Steven stared into the depths of his tea but didn’t take a sip. “She’s sending me on a quest. She also … ” He might as well say, since he wasn’t forbidden to tell his father. “She ordered me to break Noli’s stone.” He blurted it out, as if doing so would lessen the pain. A glance out the kitchen window told him Noli still wept in the tree house. “But … ” Emotion crushed his throat making it difficult to form the words. “She wouldn’t permit me to tell Noli it was on her orders.”

“I see.” His father took a sip of tea, green eyes unreadable. “Will you be gone long? Should I manufacture a suitable tale to cover your absence?”

“Please? The quest can take no longer than a mortal month, but … ” Steven took a deep breath, the quest seemed too easy. Also, who knew what orders might await afterward?

His father made an empty gesture with his free hand. “You did bring this upon yourself, you know. You never should have gone after Noli in the first place.”

Steven slammed the cup on the counter, tea sloshing over the sides. “You’re going to be like that? Fine. I’m going to pack my things and leave.”

“Wait.” The single word rang with all the command of a king.

Steven stopped, eyes narrowing. “What?”

“If you’re permitted, please take your brother with you. He won’t come out of his room and a bottle of good cognac is missing. I detest wallowing.”

“I plan on it.” Steven bit back a pert comment. He detested wallowing? All his father had done since they’d arrived in this realm was wallow. “If that is all, I need to pack.”

“Take whatever you require.” He still stood there, leaning against the counter, holding his infernal teacup. But the offer was kind.

“I appreciate that, Father.” Steven turned to walk up the back stairs.

“And Stiofán … ”

“Yes?” he huffed, glaring.

For a moment his father looked at him, with one of his unreadable expressions. “Don’t die. Please?”

“I don’t intend to.” The thought that his father cared enough to say it warmed him.

“You may not—but she might.” His voice remained mild. “I’m sure Her Majesty has realized by now that you’re not going to be a malleable, perfect son. She is capable of much, and sending you on a task that ends in your death is not beyond her.”

“True.”

For a moment his father looked far away. “Don’t trust your uncle. While alive you and your brother are threats to the one thing he values most in life—the throne.”

A throne he stole from his own brother.

“I’ll keep that in mind, Father.” He went upstairs and straight to James’ room.

James laid on the bed, fully dressed, eyes closed. He reeking of liquor and an empty bottle lay by the bed. Steven took the water pitcher from the bedside table and unceremoniously threw the contents on James.

He sputtered, sitting up, wiping his mouth with his hand, curly dark blond hair sticking out every which way. “What was that for?”

“If I can’t wallow, neither can you,” Steven demanded. “Get packing, we’re leaving on a quest.” Before Noli’s mother pounded on his door.

James rubbed his green eyes. “We’re going questing?”

“Yes.” Steven looked out the window in time to see Noli’s mother stride up the front steps of the Braddock residence, basket on her arm. “We’re leaving now.”

“Why?” James traced his brother’s gaze to the window. “What happened?”

Steven’s chest tightened, the memory still fresh and raw. “Queen Tiana forced me to break Noli’s stone.”

“Flying figs.” James stood, grabbed the towel off the wash stand, and wiped his face.

“Um, language, James. But, yes—and I wasn’t permitted to explain it to her—and you can’t do it for me.” He sighed and raked a hand through his own messy blond hair.

“She’ll understand, after all, this is Noli.” James padded to his wardrobe. He’d shot up in height again, this moment he was a scrap taller than Steven. His younger brother also looked more the man, with their father’s broad shoulders, but Steven had started to fill out a little and didn’t feel nearly as gangly in comparison.

Steven stared out the window, fingering the remains of her sigil in his pocket. “That won’t make it hurt less, but yes, it’s an addition to the list of things I must undo.” James turned, empathy gleaming in his eyes. “At least she’s still living.”

He clapped his brother on the arm, remembering Charlotte and all that the little redhead had meant to his younger brother. “Indeed.”

“Where are we going?” James shook out a pair of trousers.

Steven gave the window one last look. Mrs. Braddock stormed out the backdoor, a scowl on her face, probably looking for Noli, who still hid in her tree house.

“I don’t know.” He sighed again. “I need to speak with Quinn. Pack. I have a feeling we don’t have much time.”

Kevighn looked at the door of the sparrow-class schooner, rucksack over his shoulder. He turned to the grizzled airship captain, grateful to have gotten this far. “Where are we?”

“Saint Louis. I wish I could take you further or hire you on permanently, but I can’t afford it right now.” The air pirate gave him a smile, teeth missing. “There’s slim pickings here, but if you head toward Chicago or New York you might have better luck.”