My voice was quiet. “What do you plan to do with him?”
“Do you care?” Viessa countered, turning her head. She didn’t bother to ask who I was talking about. I looked back at her and waited. Taking pity on me, she lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “He will remain here, in the dungeons. On that, my allies and I can actually agree. Now, I simply must know what you did to the Tongue to make him piss himself every time he sees you!”
The question made me go still. I took a drink of wine to buy myself time, and its herbal notes slid over my tongue. Viessa was either pretending ignorance or she really didn’t know about my last conversation with the Tongue, or Gorwin, as I’d learned he was once called. Run, little mouse. Run before I change my mind, I had said to him.
He’d almost pissed his pants.
Deciding to play along, I made a bitter sound. I didn’t want to reveal that I knew the Tongue was her man—it could be useful to me later. This was the Unseelie Court, where the game never ended, no matter how friendly the opposition seemed or whether I considered myself retired. “Perk of being a Nightmare,” was all I said.
Making a vague sound, Viessa got to her feet. I heard her wine glass clink as she put it down.
“You do have beautiful hair,” the queen murmured, almost to herself. Her touch was unexpectedly gentle as she spread the strands out over my shoulders. Next, she divided them into sections and started to weave a braid. Okay, this is getting weird, I thought, gripping my glass tighter. But I was curious about Viessa’s endgame, so I didn’t shift out of her reach.
“Why did you help me take the crown from Collith?” she asked suddenly.
I hesitated, my mind racing. What was her angle? How did the answer benefit her? No matter how I looked at it, though, I couldn’t see a strategy. After a moment, I found myself actually thinking about the question. My jaw clenched. “Because… I wanted to cause him pain,” I admitted.
Already finished with my braid, Viessa picked her wine back up and returned to the chair she’d been sitting in. She looked thoughtful.
Before I could ask a question of my own, the door opened again. Several of Viessa’s employees came in. Four of them lifted the bathtub and carried it out. The other two, both human, set a charcuterie board on the table between us—my mouth watered at the sight of all the cheeses, meats, and fruits. The mortals bowed and walked backward, leaving as silently as they’d come.
Once we were alone again, Viessa turned to me.
“I’m going to give you some advice now,” she said decisively. “Normally I don’t like to bother with such things, but we’re bound, you and I. Watching you make the same mistake I did would give me no pleasure.”
“What mistake?”
The queen took another drink, then met my gaze. “Believing what you feel to be hate instead of love.”
“I don’t care about Collith Sylvyre,” I said instantly. Even now, I couldn’t bring myself to say that word out loud. Love. It was too big. Too heavy. I put my wine down, as if it represented all the feelings I didn’t want to face.
Viessa’s voice softened. “I did. Regret is a wasteful emotion, but it visits me whenever I think of him. For your sake, I hope what you say is true.”
It felt like she could see through the hard mask I’d put on, through my skin, and into my mind. It must’ve been a faerie thing, their ability to make me feel young and transparent. Unable to keep looking into Viessa’s knowing eyes, I fixed my attention on the charcuterie board. I reached for a grape and asked, “When did you find out about his… ability? Before or after?”
“Before. But I didn’t have this at the time.” She held up her hand, and icicles extended from the tips of her fingers. “There was no power for him to take.”
I chewed on a piece of cheese. As I stared at the glint of firelight on those bits of ice, like fireworks reflecting off glass, I remembered what Collith had once told me about a faerie’s power. Usually the ability manifests during puberty, but in rare cases, it can arise through trauma. It was the cell, I thought. The dungeon cell that Viessa had spent so many years in. In spite of all her schemes and political machinations, she’d almost broken from the dark. The isolation. The cold. I’d only been down there for a few hours, if that, and I had felt myself fracturing. It spoke to Viessa’s strength that she had emerged with a crown on her head.
Suddenly I was desperate for her to go on, frantic to know more about Collith’s lie. The lie that had hit our relationship like a grenade and reduced it to ash. When Viessa seemed content to just drink wine, I fidgeted, plucking at the strings lining one of the throw pillows.
“How does that work, exactly?” I blurted, my gaze darting back to hers. “Does he ‘take’ his partner’s power whenever there’s penetration?”
Viessa swirled her wine. Her tone was airy, and maybe a little bored as she answered, “He doesn’t drain power from his partner every time he fucks, no. I suppose my wording could’ve been slightly misleading in that regard. It only happens the first time.”
My eyes went back to the flames. To the shimmers of blue. I wondered if I’d ever be able to look at fire again without thinking of Collith. “How did you let him go?” I heard myself ask.
“Love never fades, darling. It only changes.” Viessa lifted the bottle of wine and poured more into her glass. She gulped some down before adding, “What of Prince Laurelis? Does he have a chance?”
“Laurie and I are friends. That’s all,” I insisted. It had the taste of another lie.
Viessa smiled, but there was something in the curve of her ruby lips that said she didn’t believe me. “There’s no need to choose, you know. At the Unseelie Court, we fuck who we want and leave shame for the humans.”
I reached for my wine glass again, suppressing a smile of my own. “You remind me of Gwyn. She’s always preaching about letting go of my… inhibitions.”
Viessa lifted her head, wearing an incredulous expression. “Gwyn? The huntress? I’m not sure if that’s an insult or a compliment.”
But I was silent; I was too startled to respond. I hadn’t told anyone else about those parts of my conversations with Gwyn. The fact that I was confiding in Viessa, of all people, made me wonder if there was something in the wine she’d brought. “A compliment, I think,” I said eventually. “You’re much less… murdery than she is, though.”
“Did you just describe Gwyn of the Wild Hunt as ‘murdery?’” She laughed. “I like you, Lady Sworn. I figured I would, once I’d had a hot bath and some decent sleep. But now I know for certain.”
Surprise floated through my chest when I realized I was laughing, too. How strong was this wine? I’d forgotten what it was like, just talking with someone. Allowing myself to be instead of forcing myself to become.
Still smiling, I rested my head against the wing of the armchair. “Did you grow up here at Court?” I asked.
Quick as that, Viessa’s mirth faded. “Yes,” she said curtly.
Her tone made me blink, and I straightened. Maybe she thought I was trying to obtain more information for my own gain. Viessa was a faerie, after all, and one who was so good at the game that she’d maneuvered her way to a throne.