Bex jumps up and pulls an antique-looking wrench from her back pocket—that must be the iron to which she was referring. She appears to be considering hitting the kelpie over the head with it.
In two strides, Oak is across the room. He claps his hand against the girl’s mouth hard enough for her teeth to press against his palm.
“Listen to me,” he says, feeling like a bully almost certainly because he was behaving like one. “I am not going to hurt Wren. Or you. But I don’t have time to fight you, nor do I have time to chase you if you run.”
She struggles against him, kicking.
He leans down and whispers in her ear, “I am here for Wren’s sake, and I am going to take you to her. And if you try to get away again, remember this—the easiest way to make you behave would be to make you love me, and you don’t want that.”
She must really not, because she goes slack in his arms.
He takes his hand from her mouth, and she pulls away but doesn’t scream. Instead, she studies him, breathing hard.
“I should have known something was wrong when you knew my name,” Bex says. “Wren would have never told you that. She says that if you know my name, it would give you power over me.”
He gives a surprised laugh. “I wish,” he says, then winces. He should have found a better way to phrase that, one that didn’t make him sound quite so much like an actual monster. But there is little for him to do but forge on. “You need someone’s full name, their true name. Mortals don’t have those. Not in the way that we do.”
Bex’s gaze shifts to the door of the cottage and then back, calculation in her eyes.
“Wren is in trouble,” he says. “Some people are using your safety to make her do what they want. Which is going to mean killing a lot of my people.”
“And you want to use me to stop her,” Bex accuses.
That’s a harsh way of putting it, but true. “Yes,” he says. “I don’t want my own sisters hurt. I don’t want anyone hurt. Not Wren and not you.”
“And you’ll take me to her?” Bex asks.
He nods.
“Then I’ll go with you,” she says. “For now.”
Oak turns his gaze to Mother Marrow. “I am going to grant you this, for whatever I owe you. Should I survive, I will not tell the High King and Queen that you took Bogdana’s part against them. But now my debt is dismissed.”
“And if she wins, what then?” Mother Marrow says.
“Then I will be dead,” Oak tells her. “And you are more than welcome to spit on the moss and rocks where my body fell.”
It is at that moment that the front door cracks in two. The smell of ozone and burning wood fills the air. The storm hag stands there as though summoned by the speaking of her name.
Lightning crackles between her hands. Her eyes are wild. “You!” cries Bogdana as she spots Bex beside the prince.
“Take the mortal to Wren,” Oak shouts to Jack and Hyacinthe, drawing his sword. “Go!”
Then he rushes at the storm hag.
Electricity hits his blade, scorching his fingers. Despite the pain, he manages to swing, slashing through her cloak.
Out of the corner of his eye, Oak sees Jack lift Bex and push her feet through the window. From the other side, Hyacinthe grabs hold of her.
Bogdana reaches for Oak with her daggerlike fingers. “I am going to enjoy stripping the skin from your flesh.”
He swings, blocking her grab. Then he ducks to her left. She takes another step toward him.
By now, Hyacinthe and Jack are out of sight, Bex with them.
A move occurs to Oak—a risky move, but one that might work. One that might get him to Wren faster than anything else. “What if I surrender?” he asks.
He can see her slight hesitation. “Surrender?”
