Sneak peek of chapter 3

Cy stared at his reflection in the dark window. The metal eye was the most intricate piece of machinery he had ever seen, far more advanced than even Moxie's inventions or the ground-breaking steam tech he helped Auggy steal. The tiny machine matched his other eye in size. Minuscule silver and copper pieces twisted as he moved his gaze, adjusting the tiny red lens to focus his vision. He didn't understand why the steamwright had chosen red glass until a flash of lightning illuminated the street, giving him a better look. The lens was cut from a clear red gem, the likes of which Cy had never seen before. How the hell had Moxie been able to afford this? They didn't have that kind of money. They barely had enough left over to eat after buying the parts for Moxie's work and paying the oppressive taxes charged by the Republic. What had she done or promised in order to save him?

Guilt stabbed him, tightening his chest. He pulled his coat closer around him, as if that could stop the pain. He owed Moxie so much more than an apology. What kind of a fool condemns his lover for saving his life? He shouldn't have expected her to understand how horrific these metal parts were to him. To her, metal and machines were the answer to everything. She operated on logic and reason while Cy, like all fey, was ruled by instinct and emotion. And right now, every instinct he possessed was screaming at him to rip the metal away from his body. He felt like it was poisoning him, burning him, twisting him into something dark and unnatural. He knew that wasn't true--at least, he didn't think it was--but his faerie instincts wouldn't listen to reason. As it was, he could barely resist the urge to claw at the metal. Were he a full-blooded fey, he would have been screaming and tearing at the parts, desperate to remove them. Moxie didn't understand that. She treated him like he was human, but he wasn't, not entirely.

A shaped copper plate surrounded that awful metal eye, replacing his brow, cheekbone, and temple. Cy scraped his fingertips across it then clenched his fist and forced it back down to his side. He sighed and leaned his forehead against the cool glass. His breath fogged the window. "Mox," he whispered, shaking his head. "How could you do this to me?"

"She didn't. I did." Cy whirled. A tall, beautiful sidhe stood behind him, just under the eaves that covered the porch. The faerie pushed back the hood of his cloak, revealing the sheen of silver hair and blood-red eyes. Cy flinched beneath that proud, mocking gaze. "Why you are standing at my door, Cypher Nahuel?" the sidhe asked. His tone was sharp and cutting, and the magic in it hurt Cy's skin. "As if you are nothing but a stray dog waiting to be let in."

[To be continued]