Smiling as if giving benediction, Ku’Sox inclined his head. “I will give you Lucy,” he said softly, but his hem was shaking. “That is”—he looked at Trent, silent across the room with Lucy in his grasp—“if Trenton Aloysius Kalamack agrees to take the place of his daughter as my familiar, and you take that curse from me so I might see the sun again. I do so miss the color yellow.”

Trent stood ashen-faced as Lucy softly complained of nothing. He knew what it was to be a demon slave. I had rescued him from it, and he had saved my life. Now he was going to give his own again to save his daughter, to save two worlds.

“Done,” Trent rasped, his expression riven with grief as he pushed Lucy into my arms. “Take her, Rachel,” he said, his arm stretched out to touch his daughter’s hand as he stepped back, his eyes fixed to the little girl reaching back to him. She leaned toward him, whining, and I held her close, smelling the clean scent of her hair under the stench of burnt amber.

Take the curse from him? He could go anywhere . . .

“I say, done!” Trent shouted. “Send them home!”

Ku’Sox seemed shocked. I know I was. Things were moving too fast, and I jiggled her weight, settling her to me until it felt natural. “I thought elves were known for their patience,” Ku’Sox said, and my gut twisted when he looked at me. “Rachel, is this acceptable to you, providing the elf holds to his end and I have him, body and soul?”

Crap on toast. If Trent was his familiar, he couldn’t help me. That wasn’t even considering that Ku’Sox would have access to everything on my side of the lines. But with Nick, he had that anyway. Torn, I jiggled Lucy. Oh my God. I was going to do it, and I felt light-headed.

“Take her, I beg you.” It was Trent, and I took in his hope, his grief. “Take her,” he whispered again. “I need to know they are safe, my girls.”

“Oh, they will never be safe,” Ku’Sox said, and Trent stiffened.

“They will, or I will not agree!”

Eyes rolling to the ceiling, Ku’Sox idly pushed his rolling chair back, gesturing lightly. “As long as you serve me faithfully, why not?”

Trent’s grip on my shoulder tightened, his breath coming fast in the moment of success, but I was having doubts. My eyes slid to Nick, sullen in the corner. I took a breath to answer. Ku’Sox waited, poised. Nick was tense behind him, looking like a spider. Trent was energy chained—frantic. And Bis . . . I held my breath, trying not to be obvious as I watched him signal me to fly, go, flee . . . no, I think that particular motion meant fall back and circle around.