“Not so neutral when your prince is fucking one.”
Morgan had thought the same. But despite her human heritage, he respected the prince‟s consort Lucy, targair inghean ,
promised daughter of the merfolk. He gave a mental shrug. “Neutral enough until you moved against us.”
“We seek only to restore the balance of power to what it was. To what it should be.”
“Enough games,” Morgan snapped. “What do you want?”
“Only your welfare and ours. Your people are dying.” Gau‟s voice grated like sandpaper in his skull. “Beset by humankind
and neglected by the selkie pretender. Ally with us and you will survive. We can have primacy again.”
Temptation struck, sharp and shining as a hook.
He dived deep, fighting the pull of Gau‟s voice. “Water and fire make poor allies.”
“Are we not both elementals? Our interests are the same. Our quarrel is with Conn, not with you.”
“I am the prince’s warden.”
“He does not deserve your loyalty. Why do you think he put you to work hauling stone? Because you are expendable to
him. He would not care if you and all your people vanish beneath the wave.”
In his chest, the warden‟s medallion pulsed like a heart. He needed to surface, Morgan realized dimly. He needed air. “I
pledged him my fealty.”
“A promise to his father, long past and easily forgotten. You are lord of the finfolk. You are more fit to lead than he.”
“You promise me rule over the children of the sea.”
“Ally with us, and together we can take back the world from the human vermin.”
Vermin. The word stuck in Morgan‟s throat, a small indigestible lump that made the rest impossible to swallow.
Elizabeth was not vermin.
Zachary was not vermin.
He tried to turn his thoughts away from them, but Gau was too quick for him.
“ The boy is finfolk, ” the demon said.
Not a hook, a harpoon this time, straight to his gut. Somehow Gau knew what Morgan had only suspected.
Or, Morgan acknowledged, the demon merely said what he knew Morgan wanted to hear.
“ The future could be his, ” Gau continued. “And yours. Only say the word, only pledge us your support, and you can have
everything you desire.”
He could not breathe. “And if I decline?”
Gau‟s response scorched the water. “Then we will take them from you. The boy and the woman both.”
9
MORGAN STOOD ON THE MOON-WASHED LANDING outside Dylan Hunter‟s apartment. The restaurant downstairs
was shuttered tight. He pounded on the door, rewarded when a light sprang on inside.
A lock clicked.
“Morgan. Jesus.” Dylan scrubbed his face with his hand, blocking the entrance to the apartment. “It‟s after eleven. What do
you want?”
“I thought you warded this fucking island.”
Dylan‟s eyes narrowed. “I did.”
“Who is it?” A woman‟s voice rose from behind him. “Is everything okay?”
Dylan turned his head. “Fine, sweetheart. Go back to bed.”
An infant‟s thin wail wavered and fell.
“Shit.” Dylan grimaced. “You better come in. Keep your voice down.”
Morgan followed him inside.
The rooms were small, shabby, and warm. Morgan thought the entire apartment would probably fit inside the great hall at
Caer Subai. Instead of English wood and Spanish iron, French silks and Italian marble, the place was littered with the debris of
human existence, shoes under a table, bright throw pillows on the couch, bits of sea glass dangling in the windows. A child‟s
artwork covered the refrigerator. Photographs hung on the walls.
The woman in the photographs stood in a darkened doorway, wrapped in a long red robe, a fussing infant on her shoulder.