When it broke, he took my face in his hands again, fingers stroking both sides of it, eyes looking up into mine as he smiled and said, “I’m glad to see you happy again, Liv.”

“Um, pretty sure I’ve been happy for about six months now, ever since a certain guy convinced me to go out with him.”

He smiled. “You’ve been happy. Just not like this. Not for a while. It’s good to see.” He kissed me again, briefer now, slower and sweeter.

When I pulled back, I said, “You could make me happier,” and his smile grew to a grin.

“Could I?” he said. “And how would I do that?”

“You want details?”

“Painstaking detail. Explicit instructions. I’d hate to get it wrong.”

I stretched over to lean down to his ear and told him.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

That night, I dreamed of Arawn. I’ve never done that. I’ve caught snatches of him in visions, yes. Seen him while I’d been drowning, yes. But when I dream, it’s Ricky I see. Now it was Arawn.

We were riding together, sharing a horse. I sat behind him, holding on tight as he spurred the stallion ever faster, whipping through the forest so fast my heart was in my throat and I was sure every leap was going to see me unseated, my brains dashed against a tree. And I loved it. I loved that pounding adrenaline, that delicious fear, and he knew it, and I loved that most of all—that this ride was for me. For us.

The ride seemed to last forever, the horse moving preternaturally fast. I heard the hounds in the forest. I could see only glimpses of red eyes, but I knew they were there and I smiled. His hounds. Keeping him safe.

He took me so far that I no longer even knew where I was. Then there was a hill, and the coal-black stallion raced up the steep face as if it was flat ground. At the top, I looked around and sucked in breath.

“By the gods,” I whispered.

Arawn turned to me, and I saw his face for the first time since the vision began. He was a young man, not yet out of his teens. Wild dark hair. Wild dark eyes. A grin so big and so dazzling that I stared, transfixed, before yanking my gaze to the sight that had transfixed me only a moment ago.

Standing stones topped the hill. Ancient, weathered, moss-covered stones. They glowed as the moonlight shone on them, bright as the midday sun. I slid off the horse and ran between the stones, running my hands over them, feeling their power as I raced from one to the next, greedily touching each. Then I stopped and looked up at the moon, and I laughed. I laughed with pure joy, pure glee, and when I lowered my gaze, it fell on him. Arawn. Standing in front of me, smiling.

“You’re happy?” he said.

“I am incredibly happy,” I said, grinning up at him. “Thank you.”

“That smile is all the thanks I need.” He stepped closer and lowered his voice. “I want you to be happy, Mati. That’s all I want.”

I smiled, and he moved closer still. His hand went to my chin, and he lifted my face to his. I saw him there, the handsome face of a boy I loved. And yet it lasted only a blink before I saw another face. A fair-haired boy with blue eyes I could lose myself in. Blue eyes I had lost myself in, and it didn’t matter if Gwynn had given no sign he felt the same. I told myself I should take this, take Arawn’s kiss, be happy with that, because I did love him. He leaned in for that kiss and … I dipped my head. Ducking away. He hesitated. Then his lips brushed my forehead and he pulled me into a tight embrace.

“Whatever makes you happy, Mati,” he said, and there was a wistfulness that pulled me out of the dream, just a little, reminding me of Ricky.

Arawn kissed my forehead again. “Friends?”

I kissed his chin. “Best friends.”

“No matter what?”

I hugged him tightly. “No matter what.”

“Why aren’t you paying attention?” a plaintive voice asked behind me. I turned from Arawn to see the lamia who’d spoken to me in the vision, that night I’d seen one of their deaths.

“We die, and you play with Arawn and Gwynn. You laugh and you flirt and you fuck, and we die, and you care not at all.”

I was back to myself, standing alone on that hill, the girl in front of me.

“Actually, I’m pretty sure what I’m doing right now is sleeping,” I said. “Which I’m going to need to get back on the case.” Oh, and sorry I missed a couple of days there. Being unconscious in the hospital. After falling off a bridge while on that case that I’m not investigating, apparently.

“Do you have anything to help my investigation?” I asked.

She said nothing, just fixed that reproachful gaze on me.

“Can I ask you questions?”

“You need to pay attention, Mallt-y-Nos. Pay attention to us. To what’s happening to us.”

“No, actually, she does not,” said another voice. I turned to see a man. Tall, golden hair, bright blue eyes. It was the eyes I knew. Otherwise, he was so much older than I’d seen him before, his face lined, those blue eyes exhausted.

“Gwynn,” I whispered.

I looked down at my hands again, expecting to see Matilda’s, but they were still mine.

“Pay the lamiae no mind,” he said. “You have more important things to focus on.”

“He’s right.” Another voice. To my left. I looked, and it was Arawn, just as old, his dark beard shot with gray, eyes as tired, as if he had lived longer than he cared to. His lips quirked in a smile, a hint of the boy I knew. “Yes, occasionally he is right. It’s rare, I know.”