War comes.

Once the others were out of sight, Evan announced, “I have word of trouble from the Dark Court.”

“More conflict?” she asked, as Evan led her around a group of junkies on the stoop of an abandoned tenement building. When she’d walked with Keenan over the years, he’d always sent a cloud of warm air to such mortals. Unlike him, she couldn’t offer them any comfort.

Keenan. She felt the fool for being unable to stop thinking about him. Even now. Every other thought still seemed to lead to him, even though he’d been gone for almost six months. With no contact.

She exhaled a small flurry of snow. In almost a century, she’d never gone very long without seeing him, or hearing from him, even if it was nothing more than a letter.

“Bananach attacked the Hounds two days ago,” Evan said, drawing Donia’s attention back to him.

“A direct attack?”

Her guard and advisor shook his head. “Not at first. One of the Dark King’s halflings was caught and killed, and while the Dark King and the rest were mourning, Bananach attacked them with her allies. The Hunt is not reacting well.”

Donia paused mid-step. “Niall has children? Bananach killed his child?”

Evan’s lips curved into a small smile. “No. Neither Niall nor the last king has children of his own, but the former Dark King always sheltered his court’s halflings. His fey—Niall’s fey now—are amorous creatures, and the Hounds mate with mortals far more than any other fey. It is an old tradition.” Evan paused and flashed a faux-serious look at her. “I forget how young you are.”

She rolled her eyes. “No, you don’t. You’ve known me most of my life. I’m just not ancient like you.”

“True.”

She waited, knowing he wasn’t done. His patterns were a familiar rhythm by now.