“You think anyone is? You are a demon!” she shouted, and I flinched, looking up the path where Trent and Quen plodded along. Jenks rose up amid a sparking of gold dust and darted off at surveillance height, but thankfully no one turned around. “You are a day-walking demon, and as such you are the best person possible, save Quen, for keeping him alive! We all have our tasks, and what we want needs to be set aside to meet them. Why are you being so selfish?”

Selfish? I grimaced when Trent glanced back to make sure we were okay. I knew her anger was a mix of worry for Trent and her ironclad upbringing that personal desire was a distant second to political need, but seeing her spouting off when she had her happy ending, and Trent was being asked to sacrifice what he wanted for everyone else, rankled. “You just got done telling Trent to let Red be who she is,” I said, allowing a hint of my own anger to show. “And now you’re saying everyone should be what some big plan dictates?”

She was flushed, but I knew she enjoyed our shouting matches since I was the only one who would yell back at her. And if I was honest, I’d admit I enjoyed them, too. “Red is a horse, Rachel,” she said pointedly. “Trent is poised to lead an entire society. He has healthy children, political and monetary advantage. Everyone from the vampires to the humans would like to see the elves die out. He needs protection. I don’t care if he’s insulted. A martyr won’t save our species.”

“I understand that,” I said, knowing she wasn’t angry at me, but that outside forces were threatening the one spot of peace in her long, heartbreaking life.

“Then why won’t you do it?” she asked, her horse prancing because of her tension.

“I don’t know what I want, Ceri!”

Ceri hesitated, and then her eyes widened. Sitting atop my horse, I went hot. I don’t know what I want? Had I really just shouted that?

“What you want . . .” Ceri echoed, the clops of the horses silent beneath us. “By the Goddess, you like him! Mother pus bucket, when did that happen!”

Hearing Al’s cuss phrase come out of her was a shock, and flustered, I scrambled for something to say. “Uh . . .” I hedged, praying that neither Quen nor Trent turned around. “I think somewhere between him slugging Eloy and pie. But it doesn’t change anything.”

“It changes everything,” she said, her upright stance returning as she thought the possibilities over. All for the state, yes, but she was a romantic at heart, and I could see where she was going. Damn it, she was thinking again. I had to stop this, and stop it now.