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abode, Kendeshel ana’Kirlath, but I haven’t come because of him. I’ve come because of you.”
    Kendeshel was the name my mother had given me; ana’Kirlath was her surname, which meant ‘of House Kirlath.’ No one had ever called me either of these to my face, and it rattled me to hear Melisanda do it now. “My name is Kendis Thompson,” I snapped as I edged past her to open the front door for the others. “And whatever you came by for, talk fast, because we’re really kind of busy here.”
    Millicent slammed the door of the truck and then came stomping back, clearing the way for Christopher and Jude bearing Elessir’s deadweight form. Power scraped along my skin as they passed, nothing strong enough for me to see, yet I sucked in a breath at the distinct sense that the Warders were forcibly smothering Elessir in all the magic they could muster. Melisanda stepped quickly aside to let them pass. Her nose crinkled in distaste, as if she was sure the Unseelie’s sheer proximity would somehow contaminate her. “Perhaps now is not the best of times for my purpose,” she began.
    I had little data on this Seelie, but I did know she was a warrior with God only knew how many centuries’ skill in swordplay at her command. So it would have been less than wise to get physically in her face. “Oh hell no, you spill it right here, right now,” I ordered instead, and fought off the fantasy of pushing her up against the side of the house with hands or with magic, I didn’t care which. “You don’t get to show up here out of the blue and wander right off again, not after you helped my scumbag uncle try to kill me!”
    â€œTarrant and I took word of Malandor’s treachery to the Queen—”
    â€œAnd that’s the only reason I’m not having Millie blow your head off.” Which was against the Pact between the Warders and the Sidhe, of course. Any act of violence could shatter the wary peace between human and fey in a Warded city. But right then I didn’t care, and if anything, my mother’s brother and his two lieutenants had bloody well started it. “Talk.”
    Some of the disdain with which she’d regarded Elessir spilled over onto me. For a moment I thought Melisanda might call my bluff; then, stiffly, she inclined her head. “I’ve come at the behest of Her Majesty Amelialoren. The Queen of Wind and Morning commands me first to seek your pardon for the offenses I committed against you and the young Warder.”
    As apologies went it wasn’t much, especially given how she delivered it in a tone that suggested she’d swallowed the sword I didn’t see her carrying in a last-ditch attempt to avoid delivering it. “How nice,” I said. I tried not to sneer. Much.
    â€œSecondly, I bring word that with the passing of Malandor a’Kirlath, the leadership of the House stands vacant. This has caused us…” Melisanda hesitated, and for the first time I saw one of the Sidhe ill at ease as she finished, “…conflict.”
    â€œAnd I need to give a damn about this why, exactly?”
    Melisanda’s discomfort only increased at this. “Because after fortnights of searching, we’ve found but a single heir to the House bloodline. You.”
    I blinked, gaped, and then growled, “Okay, that’s
it
!” Warrior or no, I seized the other female’s shoulder and pushed her away from my door—or tried to, anyway, for she caught my wrist and blocked my lunge with an unnerving lack of effort. That should have made me back off, but the aggravation of my and Christopher’s interrupted date was nothing compared to the fury I didn’t even realize I’d been carrying around for the last two months until it exploded forth. “I don’t know what bullshit you’re trying to pull, but I want no part of it. You are not welcome in my home, or near