looked as if it had been poured from a single drop of liquid mercury, but Eric didn’t dare break his momentum or show a moment’s indecision, and to his relief, it was solid beneath his feet. At the far end of the chamber stood the same high throne he had seen in his dream. Only this time it was facing him, and occupied by the Unseleighe Eric had seen leading the Wild Hunt in Central Park. Refusing to think about what might happen next, Eric strode boldly toward the foot of the black throne and its darkling occupant.
Like his guard knights, the Unseleighe Lord wore full ornate field plate armor of a silver so dark it seemed black. On his head was a black crown set with cabochon rubies that glowed as brightly as the blood drops in the door had. Eric stopped at the foot of the throne and stared up at its occupant. He forced himself to smile nonchalantly.
“Hi. We need to talk. Now.”

When Ria got back from Threshold, the package she’d asked Jonathan to send was waiting for her at the hotel desk. She was just as glad she’d left Logan with the others back at Threshold. What she had in mind now wasn’t something a bodyguard could help her with, no matter how good a bodyguard he was.
She signed for the package, and carried it upstairs to her suite to open it. Bless Jonathan! Her own personal .38 snubnose revolver and a lightweight chain mail vest—steel rings as supple and flexible as heavy silk—lay inside. There was a box of steel-jacketed hollow points beside the gun, a load that would bring serious grief to anyone—Sidhe or mortal—that it hit.
There were two speed-loaders in the package with the gun. She loaded them both as well as loading the gun, but left the rest of the box where it t