“Has Hell frozen over?” he said dryly.

“Funny. I’m not going to ask you questions tonight, Barrons. I’m going to ask you for three actions.” It seemed my gut had come up with a plan. I hoped my instincts were sound.

Interest uncoiled like a dark snake in his eyes. “Go on.”

I reached beneath my jacket, removed my spear from the shoulder harness, and held it out to him. “Here. Take this.”

Here it was, the moment of truth. So simple. So telling.

Dark eyes narrowed; the snake in them moved. “Who have you been talking to, Ms. Lane?” he said softly.

“No one.”

“Tell me what you’re after or I won’t play your little game.”

There was no room for negotiation in his voice. I shrugged. It was past time to force this confrontation. “I’ve heard that an Unseelie can’t touch a Seelie Hallow.”

“So, now I’m not eating them,” he said, reminding me of a prior accusation I’d made against him, “I am them? You’ve quite the imagination, Ms. Lane.”

“Just take it,” I said irritably. The suspense was killing me. I knew he wouldn’t. Couldn’t. Barrons was a Gripper. That was all there was to it.

Long, strong, elegant fingers closed around steel. He took the spear.

Astonished, certain his features would be contorted in pain, my gaze flew to his face.

There wasn’t a flicker of a lash, not the smallest shift of a muscle. Nothing. If anything, he looked bored.

He offered it back. “Satisfied?”

I refused to take it. Maybe if he kept holding it, something would happen.

He waited.

I waited.

Eventually I started to feel stupid and took the spear back. He thrust his hands in his pockets and regarded me coolly. I was deflated. Barrons wasn’t Unseelie. Until that moment, I hadn’t realized how completely I’d made my case against him, and convicted him. It explained everything: his longevity, his strength, his knowledge of the Fae, why the Shades left him alone, why V’lane feared him, why the Lord Master had walked away—all of it made sense, if Barrons was an Unseelie. But he wasn’t. I’d just proved it. And now I had to go back to square one and start trying to figure out what he was all over again.

“Try not to look so disappointed. One might almost think you wanted me to be Unseelie, Ms. Lane. What’s your second request?”

I wanted him to be something. I wanted to be able to peg him and put him somewhere and quit being torn in half, one moment believing him my avenging angel, the next, certain he was the devil himself. I couldn’t live like this, not knowing who to trust. Off-kilter, I blurted, “I want you to give me the D’Jai Orb.”

“Why?”

“So I can give it to the sidhe-seers.”

“You trust them?”