Page 74 of The Unseelie Wish

So far, they had set up a weekly poker night with Bayodan, Cruinn, Perin, and Anfar. And, much to Izael’s dismay, Puck.

But with Robin Goodfellow came Abigail, and Alex found herself wanting to form a friendship with the Seelie Queen, even if they were technically on opposite sides. It meant that eventually, Valroy would attend their poker nights. But it seemed the Unseelie King took his loss in stride.

Alex wondered how badly the King really wanted to win in the first place—but she knew voicing that question would probably result in her having her tongue ripped out.

Izael draped his arm over her shoulder “I’ll give you my soul tomorrow.”

“You’ll give it to me later this afternoon.”

“But—”

“I know you, snake. You’ll keep saying ‘tomorrow’ until a thousand years go by.” She poked him in the side. “Go ahead. Deny it.”

“Well, look. Tomorrow is subjective, isn’t it? There’s always a tomorrow.”

“Exactly.” She laughed. “Tonight before dinner.”

“After dinner.” He huffed. “Nobody should ever lose their soul on an empty stomach.”

“Deal.” She stuck her hand out. Just like she had done before when all this madness started—it felt like years ago. Not weeks.

He took her hand and shook it before turning it to kiss the backs of her knuckles. “Perhaps we can start our own jazz club, here in Tir n’Aill.”

That got a laugh out of her. “What a wild visual that is.” She snuggled into his side, shutting her eyes. “But it’s not a bad idea.”

Pumpkin climbed onto her lap, curled into a ball, and flopped down—clearly intending to stay there for a good long while.

Izael absentmindedly petted the cat. “Someday, we will return to Earth. Someday, Valroy will get his way, and the treaty will fall. Even if it wasn’t because of us.”

“I know.” She let out a breath. “But I’m going to enjoy the peace while we have it.”

“As will I.” He kissed her temple.

They sat in silence for a moment before his stomach growled loudly. Izael whined. “Damn it—if I eat, I lose my soul, but I’m hungry!”

Laughing, she scooted the irritated cat off her lap. She had insisted Izael set up a kitchen for her. “I’ll make dinner.”

Izael draped himself dramatically over his sofa, tossing his arm over his eyes. “Woe is me! Caught between my primal hunger and my noble soul.”

She left him to his dramatic monologuing as she went to make her second attempt at chicken fingers.

What an odd place to have found herself—to become Unseelie.

The Dutchess of Song, they called her now.

She really wished they’d just call her Alex.

Whatever waited for them, she didn’t know. And to a certain extent, she didn’t care. There was no point in worrying about the future anymore.

“Woe!” Izael continued on his rant. Truth be told, she was only half listening, though it did keep making her laugh.

Her second attempt at chicken fingers went better than the first—Izael was very flattering to her cooking, though he didn’t hesitate to point out the things that were just a little off. She figured the oil probably wasn’t hot enough.

He took them both up to the top of the tree where he made his home, to the landing where they had eaten dinner and watched the stars. And she sat beside him as he fashioned a glass orb of magic.

Her soul was now his. A bauble sitting upon his shelf.

And now it was his turn.