Tarrah merely stared up at Reyna, her face impassive. “I had a vision that you would do this.”
“You’re lying,” Reyna spat.
“I wish I were,” Tarrah replied, smiling faintly. “You are hurting my throat.”
“Then why didn’t you have the guards stay closer?” Reyna demanded, leaning down to hiss into her face. “If you’re so all-knowing, why did you let it happen?”
“Because you won’t kill me. You know what will happen if you do. The High King loves me. Kill me, and your sister is dead, regardless of whether or not you agree to become his Shieldmaiden.”
Reyna felt like she’d been punched. She released her hand from Tarrah’s throat and stumbled to her feet just as the guards closed in around them. One of them caught Reyna in an instant. She did nothing to fight back, heart hammering a drumbeat in her ears.
She still wasn’t convinced the Shadow Court even had her sister, but it didn’t matter. They could have her. Which meant they could kill her, too. And as long as that was a possibility, there was nothing Reyna could do but go along with whatever they demanded. If Eislyn was executed…if she was forced to fight a battle she could never win...
Reyna could not bear the thought. She would tear apart the very fabric of the world to stop it from happening.
“Dungeon time for this one, eh, Champion?” the guard asked in a dangerous growl.
“No, no,” Tarrah said, frowning at the guard. “There will be no need for that.”
“She attacked you. Our Majesty will not—”
“The High King has placed every decision about the princess with me. She will not be going into the dungeons. In fact, I daresay she has business in the throne room.”
Reyna ground her teeth together, hating Tarrah with every fiber of her being. The vengeance was welcome. For so much of her life, her entire focus had been the Air Court. Battling against them, destroying them. Somewhere along the way, her hatred had dimmed. She’d begun to see them as friends and as allies. But now her lust for blood had come alive again.
Tarrah had forced her hand. Reyna Darragh could kneel to her bloody king, but she would never see him as anything but her greatest enemy. And, one day, when they least suspected it, she would slaughter every single fae who had threatened her sister.
And she would relish in it.
5
Tarrah
Her triumph had come at a cost. It always did. Nothing in life was free, least of all victory. Tarrah Glas had convinced Reyna to swear fealty to the High King of the Shadow Court, but she had been forced to tear the ice princess’s soul apart. And she had been forced to lie.
It was the first time in her life she had lied.
Her mother had loved falsehoods. It made Tarrah hate them.
She glanced toward the princess, who stood beside her in the throne room. They were just below the dais where High King Bolg perched on his black stone throne. His expression was one of smugness, and he swirled a goblet of thick, sickly-sweet wine that he’d smuggled in from the southern regions of the human lands. It seemed his own victory to reclaim Findius Stronghold had come at a price as well. He had gained a second layer of dough around his middle, and he rarely left his chambers. It was said that he kept air fae prisoners in the dungeons, leftover survivors from the reclaiming of the city. Females, only. Every night, he commanded the guards bring him another. Sometimes, Tarrah swore she heard muffled screams echoing through the castle, whorling to mix with the thick, impenetrable mist.
And yet, Tarrah continued to serve him. His champion still. Regardless of how she might view his dishonorable actions, she would stand by his side until Unseelie told her otherwise. Her god had chosen Bolg Rothach for a reason. What that reason was, Tarrah could not comprehend, nor did she even expect to understand. Unseelie was all-seeing, all-knowing. Tarrah was nothing more than an ant in the dirt.
“Princess Reyna. I must say, I did not expect to find you inside my throne room so soon.”
Beside Tarrah, Reyna scowled. “The only reason I’m here is because your damn champion threatened to involve my sister in this. It’s me or her, so here I am. What would you have me do?”
He took a long sip of his wine, forcing Reyna to wait. She had come to him with her head hanged low to give herself to his mercy, and he revelled in it. It was a cruel move. Finally, he set down his empty goblet and wiped the red from his lips. When he smiled, crimson stained his yellow teeth. “I would have you make your vow to me.”
“Show me Eislyn,” the princess said, her voice as frozen as the icy north. “And then I will fight whatever battle you deem necessary.”
“I think not,” the king said smoothly, without a moment’s hesitation, as if he had expected the demand. “As I said before, I cannot risk putting the two of you into a room together.”
Reyna’s hands clenched. A guard shifted closer to the king’s side. “You are a shadow fae. You are not bound to truth. How can I be certain you have my sister if you will not allow me to see her?”
“Well, here’s how it is, princess. You cannot be certain I have her, but are you willing to take that risk?”
Tarrah was an expert in controlling her expression. She learned long ago not to show her mother the truth of her emotions, and Tarrah had carried that with her even here. So, outwardly, she knew she was the picture of calm serenity. Inwardly, however, she was troubled. The High King seemed to take delight in this game of lies. It revealed a level of corruption in his soul that she had not realized he had.
Tarrah had seen the very same corruption in her own mother. She might worry that they suffered from the same affliction, but she knew it to be impossible. When her mother had been pregnant with Tarrah, she had travelled to a land far from the shores of Tir Na Nog, and she had stared into the face of deep, dark magic. That magic had transformed her, changed her. It had turned her into something full of rot and dread.
But the king had never been to Inishfall. He didn’t even know the truth of the two powers hidden there. If he did, she knew what he would do. He would want to go and take one for himself. And, just like her mother, he would choose wrong.
Reyna let out a long exhale. “Fine. You win. I’m not willing to take that risk. Tell me the vows, and I will speak them, but you must promise me you will not harm my sister. I know your words are meaningless, but on your honor as a king, I ask you to promise.”
The High King smiled, victory dancing in his beady eyes. “Very well then. I promise you, I will not harm Princess Eislyn.” His gaze slid to Tarrah. “Now the vows, Tarrah.”
Tarrah swallowed hard and nodded before turning to face Reyna. “Princess Reyna Darragh, you have come before the High King of the Shadow Court, and our Seat of Power, to make vows to serve this realm. To bond your vows to your life, repeat these words after me.”
Reyna’s eyes were two thin slits of hate, but she nodded all the same.
“I promise to serve the High King of the Shadow Court. I promise to protect his life and fight for him when he commands. I promise to never attempt an escape, nor shall I ever attempt to kill him. I am his to command, now and always.” Tarrah stopped and sucked in a sharp breath of hope. Regardless of how they had come to this moment, they finally had. The Shadow Court needed Reyna to make these vows, but as the moments ticked ever forward, Tarrah began to doubt.