Nona woke from an uneasy slumber as sunset approached and power gathered along with the deepening shadows. Conaire glanced at her, his eyes wary as he motioned with his chin at the Unseelies, who stood huddled against the door, peering out. A sense of nervous anticipation wreathed them, their Fey power sparking in response to the coming sunset.
“How will we know, do you think?” Eagerness edged the voice of the shifty-eyed Unseelie.
“He said he would tell us. Now shut your hole.” The lame one looked back at Nona and Conaire, and then back at the other Unseelie.
He glanced at them, too. “They’re awake. How are we supposed to—”
“Shut up, i***t,” the other hissed, shifting on his crutch.
The third one did not speak, but the look he gave Nona over his shoulder held anticipation and malic
