The plane's engines pitched, a tremor ran through the cabin, and the world outside began to fall away as they climbed higher into a stark, sunlit sky. Layla pressed her forehead against the cool window, watching the city shrink into a grid of meaningless toys. The word mín-al sat on her tongue like a foreign seed, bitter and impossible to swallow.
"You're angry," Kieran stated from the seat beside her. He hadn't touched his second drink.
"I'm calculating," she corrected, not looking at him. "Anger is a luxury. I'm tallying the things I don't know. The list is getting absurdly long."
"You know what you need to know."
"I know you used a word that made two Night Fae vanish like smoke. I know you looked at me this morning like I'd sprouted a second head." She finally turned to him, the for
