I warmed at the titter, and I lifted my chin. Mica backed up, and I inched away from him as well. “Why not?” I said. “It’s better than starting a war that you’ll eventually die from. And that’s another thing. No more stealing people into slavery. It would be a nice gesture of goodwill if you freed your familiars.”

Trent winced, probably thinking I’d gone too far, but if I didn’t ask for more, they’d give me nothing. Sure enough, most laughed. I was losing them. Al knew it. They all did.

“Not going to happen, Rachel,” Al said, the thread of genuine sorrow sparking my hope. “We will not be taken again by elven trickery.” He looked at Dali and elegantly sipped from his paper cup. “A job,” he scoffed.

I stifled a shudder as Jenks hummed closer. “They’re not going for it,” he whispered.

My jaw clenched. This was my only chance, and I’d be damned if I let Al ruin it with his “poor me” attitude. “Hey!” I shouted, making Jenks ink a bright dust. “You will keep your mischief and misdeeds within the confines of the laws of this society, or I’ll sling each and every one of your asses back into the ever-after and Trent will curse you to remain there forever.”

“Ah, Rache?” Jenks whispered as Trent paled.

“You know we can do it,” I said, warming at the dubious looks. “We beat Ku’Sox.”

“Rachel!” Trent cried in fear, but I’d already felt the pull on the line and had spun, my word of invocation filling the circles I’d asked Mark to paint the floor with last year.

Demons cackled and guffawed as Mica’s shot was deflected into the ceiling by Trent’s cast charm before coming close to hitting my protection circle. Scared, I looked first at Trent, remembering to breathe when I saw him wreathed in his own protection, Jenks at his side.

My hand glowed with my power held in check, and I slowly spun to Mica. Fine. We could get the hard part over with first.

“That is enough!” Newt said as she stood, and the laughter slowly ebbed.

Trent came forward to join me, and I dropped my circle, loving his grace and bound anger—and that he was strong enough to stand beside me when my life got ugly. My God, he looked good, his feet barely seeming to touch the floor, and the tips of his hair floated, waving before his brilliant green eyes.

“That could have been a mistake,” he warned Mica as he stood a little in front of me, his voice having a singsong cadence and holding an unsaid threat. “Don’t do that again.”

Adrenaline seemed to rake over my skin as Al stood as well. “You had my help bringing Ku’Sox down,” he growled. “I don’t stand with you anymore.”