Rhoswen's blue eyes glittered upon Lyssa's.

“You may do as you wish to me, my lady,” Cayden said through clenched teeth. “But think this through.

This is not who you are.”

“No. But a debt is owed to who I once was.” She extended her hand. “Give it to me, Cayden. And do not make me ask you once more. Would you shame your oath to me by making your queen beg?” He placed it in her hand. Lyssa noted that Keldwyn had chosen one of his typical y fortuitous moments to be absent. Fine. She held her position, knowing she was faster in Fae form if she had to dodge.

My lady?

All is well, Jacob. She could tel him to mind his own business and stay out of her mind. He would honor that—except when he knew she was in danger. Then she might as well toss the command out into the wind over sea-pummeled cliffs. Just a female version of a pissing contest.

Neither of you are well equipped for that, my lady. I would suggest diplomacy instead. Or a retreat.

I'll make you pay for that remark later, Sir Vagabond.

“This is the spear of Dagda, the original King of the Danu, the King of the Fae.” Rhoswen considered it as she balanced it in one palm. “This is one of the reasons Dagda was never defeated by an enemy. It never misses its target.”

Lyssa cocked her head. “It's said that one of the archangels, Raphael, has a spear that never misses, no matter how far it has to travel. It also comes back to him like a boomerang after passing through his opponent. It sounds like Dagda's spear is in need of an upgrade.”

“You dare insult our holy relics?”

Instead of the Fae queen's usual capricious venom, Lyssa was surprised to see a truly offended expression. “This item is sacred. Its meaning is central to who and what we are, what we have come from. We bring the spear forth only at Samhain. King Tabor carries it with ful ceremony on the Hunt. It is our way of remembering.”

Lyssa dropped to the ground a few feet in front of Rhoswen's horse. In a blink, she'd shifted back to human form. Despite her pale nakedness, she offered a slight bow, her hair fal ing forward over her shoulder. “I intend no offense to your history. Your moods are somewhat difficult to anticipate . . .” She paused, somewhat distracted by a flicker in Cayden's expression that Jacob would have interpreted as you don't know the half of it. Clearing her throat, she continued. “But the tension between you and me has nothing to do with the respect due to such items. Please accept my apologies on their behalf.”

Rhoswen stared at her. However, at length, she opened the wrap, revealing a spear with a silver tip that shone with a liquid light. The shaft was carved with letters Lyssa didn't know, possibly Gaelic or the Fae tongue. It was also inlaid with more silver. As the queen hefted it, Cayden slid the wrapping away and draped the cloth over his horse's neck. “This represents what is pure about our people,” Rhoswen said. “It goes back to the beginning, like Excalibur and all the ancient enchanted treasures.” She changed her grip on it, lifting it out to her side, her elbow bent close to her body. “It would be most fitting to run you through with it. If you died on its shaft, it could be my blood offering this night to those ancestors, a reminder that their current queen remembers and knows what being Fae means.” She lifted her gaze to the trees. “No obsession with things of other worlds. Fly away, little butterflies. Go find Catriona, and see if she has learned the lesson you stil refuse to learn.”

There was a rush of wings as the teens fled, a flutter of leaves. Lyssa noted then how stil the surrounding forest had gone. Either the Fae and animal life were watching in careful silence, or they'd all moved out of the queen's sphere of power and influence, rightful y perceiving here was not a wise place to be. She remembered then how the tiny Fae playing in Rhoswen's hair so trustingly had vanished when the tone of the evening had changed.

“Your Majesty.” Keldwyn stepped out of the forest.

Rhoswen's lips twisted. “Of course. He always shows up when least wanted or needed.” The Fae lord spread out his hands, expression as bland as ever. “Not wanted, perhaps. But needed, more than you wish to acknowledge. I did not anticipate the Lady Lyssa crossing your path as you returned from the Lake of Memory. You know that the power of the old ones there can distort your view and emotions for a certain time. It is why no magic is all owed to be practiced for a proscribed period after the visit.”

“Lord Keldwyn, if there is one thing I have never known you to do, it's fail to anticipate.” The blue in Rhoswen's eyes all but disappeared, the pupils large and dark. Lyssa saw the distortion that Keldwyn had intimated, but she wasn't sure if a lake had anything to do with it.

The queen's caustic tone elicited nothing but silence from Keldwyn, and she turned her ire to Lyssa. “I keep warning you, and you continue to treat him as an all y. Your servant claims I am not a better queen than you, but I think this il ustrates differently.”

“From where I stand, Lord Keldwyn is not the one threatening me with a spear.”

“I never claimed to be your all y.”

Jacob's tension was growing, but the sun was bright in the sky. Lyssa could feel the heat of it bearing down on her skin, because the tree cover was thin here. Even if he could emerge now, he was too far away to do anything for her. His frustration was tipping up his bloodlust. She hoped an innocent maid didn't come through to fluff the bedding.

Jacob, I'm all right. Let me focus.

He reined himself back, with an abrupt effort that almost made her dizzy. But she steadied herself, met Rhoswen's gaze.

“Fine, then. You say Samhain requires a blood sacrifice to honor the purity of the Fae blood. So here it is.” Lyssa spread her arms out wide, took a step back to better align herself with the line of that spear tip. “If you don't think it will sul y the wood to plunge it through my black heart, the blood sacrifice is yours. Do it, Your Majesty. Salve the bitterness in your heart, whatever its source. If hurling that spear will bring you satisfaction, do it. But if you miss”—

Lyssa bared her fangs—“You get your ice princess ass down off that horse and fight me, power against power, or hand to hand. It doesn't matter to me. Let's just put an end to this.”

“Lady Lyssa.” Keldwyn stepped forward, but Lyssa warded him off with a sharp slicing motion of her hand.

“Stay back. If you set this in motion, deal with the consequences.”

Lyssa stared at her rival, ice blue eyes to jade.

“I've met plenty of your kind in my life, Your Majesty.

Those who want to be powerful, but aren't will ing to accept the wisdom and humility to truly be powerful.

So, impale me on your very special, very pure spear, and see if that brings you the satisfaction—” Lyssa. Jacob's roar of rage and helplessness cut through her mind as Keldwyn started forward.

Surprisingly, Cayden shouted Rhoswen's name with the same urgency. He even put his heels to his horse, as if he would join the Fae lord in trying to head off the inevitable. But they were too late.

Rhoswen had hefted the spear and hurled it.

With metal and wood crafting the shaft, and metal at the substantial, sharp tip, it would kil vampire or servant, and of course she was both. As Fae, she wasn't entirely sure what would kil her, but if the spear was designed to fight Fae, she expected it covered that as well. She refused to close her eyes, refused to move. Though her heart accelerated like a gal oping horse, everything slowed down as that spear came toward her. She had a glimpse of Rhoswen's eyes, torn between longing and hatred.

Old pain struggling beneath a mask.

The spear hit her square in the chest, the force making her stagger back. She'd been wounded often enough that she could track the damage as it punched through her body, tearing heart muscle, bringing nerves to screaming life. She blacked out for a whirling second, though she was stil swaying on her feet. Then the spear passed all the way through, such was the force of Rhoswen's throw. As it left her, she dropped to one knee. Vaguely, she heard a thunk of impact, a clatter of metal as it bounced off a tree. Her body had slowed its momentum, such that it couldn't embed itself into the trunk. Or perhaps it didn't embed itself in the tree for the same reason it passed all the way through her, leaving her in pain, gasping for breath . . . but very much alive and intact.

Keldwyn had his cloak wrapped over her, his large palm pressed to her chest, over her breast where the spear had entered. Her blood soaked his hand, but when he shifted his touch, Lyssa knew he saw the entry point closing, knitting before his eyes even as it pumped out more blood through the shrinking opening. “My lady,” he said, the words caught in his throat.

He was so astounded that when Lyssa struggled to get up, he forgot his courtier's manners. Then he recovered and helped her to her feet. She had to lean on him for balance, the shock of the penetration and the swift blood loss making her a little shaky.

Still, she faced Rhoswen.

“My servant told me that the spear of Dagda would strike down any enemy of the Fae. Which, by deduction, means that a friend would not be harmed by it. At least not permanently.” She coughed, spat blood onto the ground between them. “Get down off that horse. I want to put my impure foot up your pure white backside.”

Rhoswen's face was three shades paler than normal, making her ethereal beauty seem fragile.

One of Cayden's men had retrieved the spear.

Giving Lyssa and Keldwyn a wide berth, he brought it back to the captain. Cayden took it, studying the tip. He used his own cloak to clean off Lyssa's blood, then resecured the weapon in its wrappings, leaving it balanced on his pommel rather than returning it to the honor guard or his queen. Seeing Rhoswen stil staring at Lyssa, he touched the rein on her horse, drawing her attention. “Your Majesty, the crowd waits at the vil age to see the Sacred Procession.”

He had to repeat it, touch her leg instead of the horse. When he did, she jerked, seeming to come out of a trance. Rhoswen looked at the blood on the cloak and Keldwyn's hands. “Another time, Lady Lyssa,” she said at last, her voice strained. “After all, the deal only applied if I missed. And I didn't.” She pressed her horse into a canter from a standstil , the steed prettily lifting his feet off the ground before he lunged forward, narrowly missing Lyssa. She refused to move, even though the fabric of the queen's skirts lashed against her as she passed, grazing Keldwyn's knuckles where they were curved on the outside of the cloak he had wrapped around her. Cayden gave Keldwyn a nod, then fol owed in her wake, the others fal ing into ranks. Lyssa didn't turn to watch them go, though she was aware every one of the honor guard gave her a second look as they passed her. Once she heard the sound of their horses fade, she sank back to the ground in Keldwyn's grasp. “What can I do?” he asked.