I don't remember the moment when my feelings for Molly changed. I guess it was more of a gradual sort of thing, and I wasn't really aware of it happening—Probably because I had always been so adamant that nothing of the sort would ever happen. So, in all our history together, I can't really identify one particular turning point that would have made me change my mind.

But I sure as hell remember the moment when I realized it had already happened.

I had accompanied Molly on a trip to Japan, through the Ways. We had already taken a few trips like this, with Molly acting as a sort of emissary to various groups of Winter fae that lived around the world. Apparently, the missions had something to do with her duties as the Winter Lady. She was still reluctant, or unable, to tell me what those duties entailed. Sometimes, though, when she was traveling to a place for the first time, she'd ask me to come along. It was a way to scope out the route that she would use in the future, and it was always a good opportunity for us to catch up with each other. So whenever Molly asked me to accompany her, I was happy to go.

This time, as we traipsed through the Nevernever, we'd come across a group of ghouls. These particular ghouls weren't terribly smart, but they were as tough and fast as any of their cousins, and there were a lot of them. Molly and I ended up back-to-back as we fought them off. The hillside in the spirit world had been wreathed in a perpetual dim twilight when the ghouls appeared; now it erupted in light as our spells filled the air with Winter-blue flames and glittering faerie ice. I let the Winter Knight's mantle free, taking advantage of the supernatural strength and speed it lent me. I found myself grinning fiercely as I whirled my staff, smashed it into one ghoul after another.

There's something primitive and powerful about the exhilaration that comes with a fight for your life. Physical struggles call up adrenaline, heighten our senses, and tap into some of our oldest instincts. Being so close to danger, to death, reminds you that you're alive, in a visceral way that normal life doesn't—not even my life, which isn't all that normal. Of course, this primal sense was magnified by the Winter mantle, which had a fierce appreciation for any primitive emotions and would be perfectly happy if I suddenly reverted to a Neanderthal.

As the last ghoul fell, I let out a triumphant whoop. Adrenaline and Winter power were surging through me, bringing to the fore all the survival instincts that Winter is: hunger, fury, bloodlust, regular lust… a throbbing, consuming need to live, to drive back the oblivion that waits for us all. Being wrapped up in all of that, with the mantle's power coursing through me, was a vibrant high, and was nearly impossible to let go. I needed to hold on to that high, needed more life, needed more. Molly, panting slightly, shot me a dazzling grin, with a ferocious light in her eyes that said she shared that feeling. She had a splash of ghoul's blood across one cheek, and her bright hair had started to come loose from her ponytail during the fight. She looked savage and beautiful, and I….

I did something stupid.

I grabbed her arm and pulled her into a kiss.

It wasn't a good kiss. It was an amazing kiss. Molly's lips were soft, and warmer than I would have expected, almost feverishly hot. There was a moment of shocked stiffness before she started kissing me back, and…

Stars and stones. It was electric. I felt as if lightning shot straight down every single nerve in my body, sending sparks from head to toe. My heart rate was already elevated from the fight; this made it skyrocket, pounding in my chest like it was about to burst through my ribs.

Yes, snarled a voice inside my head that was mostly—but not entirely—driven by Winter's hunger. This is how it should be. You've earned this prize in blood and combat. Seize it, take her!

I shuddered, overwhelmed by the mantle's urges, the sweet taste of Molly on my tongue, the roaring of my heartbeat in my ears. For a brief moment, all I knew was that this felt…

It felt so right.

But, distantly, I knew it wasn't. It felt absolutely natural, as if not kissing Molly was unthinkable... but in my experience, the biggest temptations often feel that way. Feelingright and being right are two completely different things.

Molly.

It took an enormous effort to tear myself away. I clenched my fists at my sides and took a deep breath, forcing back the Winter mantle and my own arousal. For a few seconds, I couldn't bring myself to look at her, feeling profoundly ashamed beneath the rest of my raging emotions. What the hell, Harry? I thought. Where did that come from?

"I'm sorry," I said roughly. "Jesus, Molly, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that."

Molly didn't say anything, and I finally looked up. She stared at me with wide blue eyes, her cheeks flushed, and there was a look on her face... a mix of shock, and joy, and something like the horrified disbelief I would expect if she'd seen me kick a puppy.

I felt a little sick. Hell's bells, what had I done?

"Oh my God, Harry," she said finally, with a hint of desperate laughter in her voice. She pressed her fingertips to her temples and squeezed her eyes shut. After a moment, she pushed her disheveled hair back from her face and looked at me again. "I still have a job to do, and this isn't the time or place for a conversation. Let's just keep moving. We'll talk about it later."

"Uh, right." I cleared my throat, desperately tried to think of something else to say, and lamely repeated myself instead. "Right."

We still had a good two hours' walk to go. I don't think I've ever spent a more awkward couple of hours in my whole life. Molly appeared serious about not having a conversation—at all. For once, I kept my own mouth shut, too. We walked in silence, with a thick tension between us that had never been there before.

My mind raced, though, searching my memory for an explanation of what had made me do such a thing, or for a hint that I'd failed to see. It had to be the mantle, and I had to be better at keeping those urges in check. Maybe I could have prevented myself from assaulting my former apprentice if I'd been paying better attention to Winter's hold on me. There had to be something, some warning sign I'd missed…

Molly's birthday party in Faerie was apparently going a lot better than mine had. Of course, I showed up late, and it was probably my absence that had made most of the difference. Normal mortal parties don't appeal much to me; parties full of insane, deadly-beautiful Sidhe are reallynot my thing.

By the time I arrived, things were already starting to... devolve, as they tend to do. Most of the assorted Sidhe and other creatures filled the courtyard of Arctis Tor under multicolored lights, whirling and undulating with inhuman, lovely grace. Around the fringes of the floor, the dancers had moved on to other things that were either blatantly sexual, or graphically violent, or both. All of them were intriguing, making the Winter hunger begin to stir inside me. I tamped it down as I entered the courtyard, and I made sure to keep my gaze moving as I walked. It would be far too easy to get distracted by what was going on around the courtyard perimeter.

Like everything else, the Sidhe take rave music to the extreme. I could feel the bass throbbing through every inch of my body, it was so loud. Mab was not in attendance, but I could see Molly as I approached a low dais. She sat on a white chair that looked like wicker, but probably wasn't. A small group of Sidhe clustered around her, just the sort of supernaturally lovely entourage that should attend the youngest Queen of Winter. I couldn't hear any conversation over the pounding music, but it looked as if Molly were having a good time.

Actually, she looked great. Her light blond hair hung in a long braid that trailed over one shoulder, reminding me of Maggie's favorite Disney princess. Molly's hair, though, had pale blue highlights streaked through it, and her braid was studded with sparkling, white gems. She wore a dress that reminded me of champagne: the same pale, almost-peach color and the same amount of sparkle. The dress clung in all the best places, and it was complemented by white leather boots that went nearly up to her knees. The tall shoes emphasized just how much of her long, toned legs were still exposed by the short hem of her dress.

Hey... I'm not blind, okay?

One of her companions, a Sidhe lord with ridiculously defined abs and an apparent allergy to shirts, leaned over the back of Molly's chair to murmur something in her ear. His hands rested on Molly's shoulders, and there was something possessive in the way he bent over her, his lips even closer to her ear than the noise level of the party required. Without warning, a surge of jealousy erupted in me, fueled by the Winter mantle's fierce desire for a fight. The Winter Lady was mine—my apprentice, my territory, my prey—and this asshole had just made himself a target. I needed to make an example of him, show the entire court what happened to anyone who tried to move in on my—

Molly's eyes went wide, and she snapped her head towards me. Her eyes were very bright, very blue, and I nearly stumbled. Hell's bells... she'd sensed that rush of possessive fury.

Where the hell did that come from? I wondered. I'd been getting better at keeping my Winter instincts under control, but they had taken me completely off guard this time. Molly's companions, including Mr. Washboard, all turned to follow her gaze. I fought back the urgent need to smash someone's face, forced my fists to unclench, and kept moving forward, closing the last few steps as if nothing had happened.

"My Lady," I shouted over the din. Seriously, at that volume, you couldn't even call it music anymore. "Please excuse my tardiness and allow me to extend my best wishes for the anniversary of your birth."

She raised her eyebrows, amused by my formality. She dismissed her companions with a few words, and they moved away, melting into the crowd. I caught myself tracking Washboard Abs with a glare, and made myself turn back to Molly. She leaned back a little in her chair, watching me.

I gave her a grin. "Happy birthday, Grasshopper. You look great."

"I know," she mouthed pointedly, with a tiny smile. Oh, she had definitely felt that spike of jealousy, and she wasn't likely to forget it, either. But then her smile widened, and she suddenly looked again like the Molly I remembered, the mortal one. "Dance with me?"

"Uh... Dance to what?" I half-shouted over the throbbing noise that filled the space. I was kind of surprised that the walls of the fortress hadn't started crumbling yet.

Molly flickered the fingers of one hand, murmuring something, and abruptly the noise was gone, though my ears still rang a little. In its place, there was a soft waltz playing. It came from everywhere, but barely audible, as if I wore headphones with the volume turned way down. I blinked, and glanced over my shoulder. The writhing mass of faeries on the dance floor hadn't reacted to the change of music.

"Just us," Molly said quietly. I turned back to her, impressed. It was simple enough to seal off a conversation against eavesdropping, though I could never do it without making everyone's voices sound weirdly modulated. But this was on a whole other level: Molly had shut out the noise, brought in her own music, andkept the voices normal, all as easily as she might light a candle.

I bowed gallantly and held out a hand. "Will you favor me with a dance, my Lady?"

She rolled her eyes as she stood and took my hand. "Thank you for coming, Harry," she murmured, as we began. "It's, um... nice to see somebody normal."

I snorted. "Who, me? You're kidding, right?"

"Oh, you know what I mean."

Apparently her auditory spell was a physical barrier, too; we moved through the crowd as if in an impenetrable bubble. The dance floor around us was a blur of colored lights and vividly-hued bodies, moving in time to an inaudible beat, but none of them came near us. I studied her as we spun for a few steps, following the soft strains of her illusory waltz. There was a hint of tension, a hidden darkness, in her features. She hid it well, but I knew her too well to be fooled. "Molls," I said quietly. "How are you doing with all of this? I mean, you've been through a lot, and I can't imagine being the Winter Lady is any easier than…"

"Than being the Ragged Lady?" Molly finished. Her wry smile didn't reach her eyes. "Heck no, it isn't easier. But Auntie Lea prepared me well, and I'm learning."

"And doing a good job, from what I hear," I said. She blushed a little, faint pink spots appearing on her cheeks.

"I suppose," she murmured. We passed under the Sidhe equivalent of a disco ball; rainbow-colored light glittered on the gems in Molly's hair, on her clingy metallic dress. I saw that dark tension in her expression flicker a bit stronger, and her grip tightened on my hand. "I hate it here," she blurted out, then added, "No, I don't actually hate it. But I'm sick of it. Sick of the cold and the ice and constantly watching my back, never able to trust anyone. Except you," she finished, glancing up at me.

"I hear you," I said sincerely. "This place can get to you after a while. Maybe we need a vacation, huh?"

She smiled half-heartedly at the remark, but I realized as I said it that it was exactly what we needed. "Seriously," I continued. "Someplace warm and tropical, as far away from Winter as we can get. No fighting, no faeries, just lots of sunshine and drinks with little umbrellas in them. What do you say, Molls?"

"Sounds nice... But I don't know if it will help. Harry, I don't like it here, but I'm…" Her voice trembled a little, and she looked away. "I'm worried that I'm fitting in too easily."

Oh, Molly, I thought, my heart going out to her. That was a struggle I knew all too well.

She went on, "Sometimes... I can feel myself slipping. I have these thoughts, and they aren't mine, but I think them anyway, and it's getting harder and harder to distinguish what's me from what's Winter. I'm starting to think like one of them, and it scares the crap out of me.

"Harry, you haven't changed, not really. How are you able to..." she took a deep, unsteady breath. "To hold on to yourself?"

We were near the edge of the dance floor; I stopped and ushered Molly a few steps sideways, to the empty space beside a giant evergreen tree. "It's tough," I admitted. "But it does get a little easier. And you have the most important part down already: you don't want to change. If you didn't care at all, Maeve 2.0 would already be causing havoc. But you do care, and you're still Molly Carpenter, and you will still be you for as long as you choose to be."

Molly looked away. "I've... never been good at making choices."

"Bullshit," I said, and her eyes darted back to mine, surprised.

"Everyone makes bad choices when they're young, Molls. That's part of growing up. And maybe yours had more severe consequences than most. But you've also made choices that saved peoples' lives; you've chosen to use your power to do the right thing, to make a difference. Everything you've ever chosen has made you who you are, and this is no different.

"Molls... I know you didn't choose to become the Winter Lady. If there was a way I could undo it, I would. But you have a choice now. You can take the easy way out, let Winter guide your thoughts and shape you into New Maeve…. Or you can continue to be Molly Carpenter, choosing every day to be yourself instead of Winter's puppet. It won't be easy. Some days, it'll be very hard to remember why it's so important to be human. But you've got this, Molly, I know it."

She was silent for a few moments. "You really think so?"

"Trust me. Have I ever asked you to do something that you couldn't handle?"

"All the time, boss," she said wryly.

"Well, maybe at first," I admitted. "But you took every challenge I ever gave you, and ran with it. You never gave up until you managed to exceed my expectations. There's no reason this should be any different."

Molly thought about that. When she met my eyes again, she was smiling a little.

"Thank you, Harry. That's... exactly what I needed to hear, I think."

"We're in this together, Grasshopper," I told her, smiling back.

She flung her arms around my neck, and I hugged her in return. I think we both needed it. I'd been keeping myself so distant from everyone, afraid to endanger my friends, that I couldn't remember the last time I'd embraced anyone. Winter was a harsh place, and so was Demonreach, where I spent most of my time. Simple comforts like the physical connection of a hug had been hard to come by, lately. I found myself clinging to her more tightly than I should have. She was lean and warm in my arms, and her hair smelled like flowers. I was suddenly very aware of her curves pressed against me, and I had to make a conscious effort not to let my hands start wandering.

Dammit. It's a huge pain in the ass when your body wants to do things all on its own. Bearing this damn mantle was like being a teenager again, only about a hundred times worse. And it was starting to sneak up on me more and more, despite my determination to keep it under control. I pushed the primal urges away, hoping Molly hadn't sensed anything this time.

If she had, she didn't react. I kissed the top of her head gently. "Happy birthday, Grasshopper," I murmured, and stepped away. "Go and enjoy your party. Just give the word when you're ready for that vacation."

She smiled brightly, summoning her Winter Lady charm again. It still didn't reach her eyes, but some of her tension had eased. "Thanks, boss," she said. "I will."

Walking through the Nevernever at Molly's side, I mulled over the night of her birthday celebration, just a few weeks earlier. Things like that unexpected surge of jealous rage happened often, since the Knight's mantle was prone to triggering those sorts of exaggerated, alpha-male reactions. But I'd already been on guard against Winter's outbursts, after glimpsing the craziness around the edges of the dance floor. So how had that furious jealousy caught me by surprise? And later, when part of me had wanted much more than just a hug, I had blamed it on the mantle, but…

Maybe it hadn't come from the mantle. If I'd already been holding Winter under control, then it had been all me. That was something I hadn't expected, hadn't known to be vigilant for.

The thought made my mouth go dry. This was Molly, for God's sake... I'd known her since she'd had braces and pimples. Yes, she'd grown into a gorgeous young woman, but that was no reason to suddenly make me act like a caveman. I'd been her teacher, her mentor; I never wanted more than that. So what the hell is going on, Harry?

Striding alongside Molly in silence, I had plenty of time to consider that question. I realized just how much Molly had changed in my eyes since becoming the Winter Lady. She hadn't just grown up in age, but also in her abilities, in her attitude, in her bearing. Calm and confident, she handled her interactions with the fae with both grace and authority. She wasn't afraid to demonstrate that authority when necessary, either. I'd seen her rebuild relations with estranged members of Winter as smoothly as any diplomat. I'd seen her control vast, intricate illusion spells with the same flawless confidence as a conductor with an orchestra. I'd seen her struggle with the same Winter urges that I shared, and I'd seen her triumph over them, too.

Molly had matured, carrying herself with a strength and confidence that suited her well. I suppose getting handed the power of an immortal Sidhe queen will do that to you. And though I hadn't realized it until now, I'd come to see her as a peer. As lonely and isolated as I'd been lately, that could be enough to start my brain—and glands—down a path I hadn't consciously chosen to follow. Add it to my perfect storm of Winter lust and post-battle adrenaline, and you could almostexcuse that impulsive kiss.

Almost, but not quite. By the time we reached our destination, I was thoroughly disgusted with myself, but I had to set it aside for a bit longer. It was time to play the intimidating, dangerous Winter Knight, not the embarrassed, awkward wizard who couldn't believe what he'd done to his former apprentice.

Fortunately, the Winter Knight's presence was not really needed. The Rokurokubi family was a large clan of Winter fae that still adhered closely to Japanese traditions as well as faerie ones. While they were not overly excited to see the Winter Lady (few of the faeries ever were, for some reason), they offered us their hospitality. Molly went to talk to the family heads and take care of her mysterious business, leaving me to explore. I wandered around the sprawling house for a while, half worried that I would trip and fall through one of the delicate wood-and-paper screens dividing the rooms.

Or set them on fire somehow. Hell's bells, this building could go up like a tinderbox. Maybe I was the one they were reluctant to welcome into their home.

The meeting ended that afternoon, with arrangements for Molly to return in a week's time to complete her business with the fae. We were escorted off the grounds, and found ourselves on the crowded streets of Tokyo, which seemed worlds away from the Rokurokubi's walled gardens. "Come on," Molly said, nodding towards a noodle stand across the street. "I'm starving."

We bought a couple orders of noodles and walked a block or so to a nearby park, where we found a bench in the shade of a massive tree. I let Molly sit first, and I made a point of sitting at the opposite end, as far from her as I could. More awkwardness ensued. We ate in silence, and Molly wouldn't look at me, staring straight ahead at the passers-by. Since I had already done enough damage, I didn't say anything, and the silence stretched unbearably until we finished eating.

Finally, Molly set aside her empty bowl and looked sideways at me.

"Soooooo..." she said slowly.

I grimaced. "Molls, I'm so incredibly sorry about... about earlier. That was totally unacceptable, and—"

"Don't apologize, Harry. That's just making it worse."

More awkward silence. She stared at the ground, her fingertips fiddling nervously with each other. When no further explanation seemed forthcoming, I said softly, "I don't understand."

"I know you don't," she blurted, suddenly clenching her fists. "You have no idea how much I just want to climb into your lap and kiss you again—" she stopped, cheeks flushing pink.

I fought back a treacherous mental image of Molly sliding across the bench to close the distance between us, straddling my lap and—Come on, Harry, that's not helping.

"Why don't you?" I asked, without thinking.

Molly shot me a look, and I realized belatedly how bad that sounded.

"Not like that!" I amended hastily. "I mean—I'm seriously asking. I can't read your mind, Molls. I'm just trying to get a handle on what's going on here."

She sighed, and drew her feet up onto the bench, hugging her knees. "I can't tell you, Harry. Seriously. The mantle won't let me say it. Every time I tr—" her voice cut off mid-word, and she gave me a look that said, See what I mean?

"Okay." I thought for a moment, watching the passersby. This wasn't the first time I'd had to play word games with a member of the Sidhe courts. "Hypothetically—"

She stopped me with a wordless shake of her head; apparently even that loophole wasn't going to work. Her mouth moved silently for a moment, as if she were testing out her next words. "Remember," she said finally, with caution in her voice, "what Maeve was like?"

Maeve, the former Winter Lady, Mab's daughter, had been fucking terrifying. Literally. Sex-crazed and Sidhe-gorgeous; dripping with lust and sexuality and a malice that meant anyone dumb enough to fall for her charms would meet a gruesome end. I couldn't think of anyone less like her than her successor.

"You're not Maeve," I said firmly. "You're better than that, Molly."

She seemed to tremble with effort, before forcing her next words out between clenched teeth. "But the Lady isn't."

It took a moment for that to sink in, and to raise some uncomfortable questions.

Such as, how much of Maeve's murderous sex-kitten vibe had been due to the mantle she carried, and not her actual personality?

When Molly spoke again, I could barely hear her. "Since I was seventeen, I would have given anything for you to kiss me like that, Harry. I would have done anything to see you look at me that way. This could have happened years ago, and now... now?" She buried her face against her knees. "Dammit. Dammit, Harry," she said, muffled.

I looked at her helplessly. I'm so sorry, I wanted to say, because I was. Sorry that I'd kissed her and stirred up this mess, sorry for the burdens she had to carry. Sorry for everything I'd done that had led to this, with Winter under her skin, twisting her into something she wasn't, something she couldn't even explain. But she didn't want to hear my apologies. Hell's bells, even giving her a comforting hug seemed like a terrible idea right then.

Molly drew another deep breath, straightening up. "I think it'll be best if I just head back alone tonight," she said flatly. "I need some space."

"Molls…"

She shook her head and got to her feet, looked down at me for a long moment. "I know you still don't understand," she said, more gently. "You should… you should talk to Carlos."

I blinked; she was giving me an intent, piercing look. "I will," I promised.

She nodded and strode away. After a few steps she paused, looking over her shoulder. "Harry… it was worth it." The tiniest smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "Despite it all."

The memory of that stolen kiss washed over me, as vivid as if it had been mere moments ago, and I knew what she meant. I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, and watched her go, with an ache in my heart that I had never expected to be associated with my apprentice.