Irritation ripped through Reyna’s gut. “Why? So that you might destroy every village there in your quest to conquer the entire continent?”
“We are not going to destroy every village,” Tarrah said with a frown.
“No?” Reyna arched a brow, dropping the fork onto her plate. “Then, how do you plan on doing it? None of the courts are going to want you back, especially not when we’re all already at war. You’ll just be one more enemy added into the mix, with a load of innocent low fae stuck in the middle, desperately trying to stay alive.”
“There are some fae we do need to destroy. I will not lie to your face about that, but they are not the innocents you speak of,” Tarrah argued, fist tightening around her fork. “Once we kill the wood king, we will turn our sights on the Air Court. But it’s the royals we want. And that throne. Once we have that, we can end the war.”
That throne?
“Why do you need that throne?” Reyna asked. “You have a Seat of Power here.”
Tarrah pressed her lips together, and then glanced at Nollaig, who merely shrugged. “Might as well tell her.”
“Tell me what?” Reyna demanded.
Tarrah tapped her finger against the table, as if considering, but then she began to explain. “The Air Court’s throne is the strongest. It holds the most power. That was how the Selkirks found the magic to exile us despite the Fall. If we get that throne, we can undo the exile, and we can be part of Tir Na Nog once again.”
The most powerful throne? Reyna had never before heard that. But it made sense. Terrible, perfect sense. The Air Court had always been the strongest realm. They’d always held the most power, had the biggest army, and had not suffered as deeply as the other courts had. All this time, it had been because of that throne.
Reyna took another bite of food. “Why do you want to undo that magic so much?” she asked, honestly curious to know. In her eyes, she could not see much of a benefit for the shadow fae, other than access to trade. But that could easily be accomplished in other ways. Winning a few battles here and there, forcing the borders to reopen. Taking down the Wood Court would be enough for that. Then, they would have a direct line to the Empire of Fomor. It would be enough for their realm to not only survive but to thrive. And they would still have the ability to lie.
Why push further? Why fight harder? There was only one reason a realm would do that. Power. Tyranny. Control. They not only wanted to restore their kingdom to its previous glory. They wanted to dominate everyone else.
Tarrah blinked at Reyna in confusion. “For Unseelie, of course. Our god is the rightful ruler of this great continent, but he’s been pushed out by a pretender.”
“You mean the Dagda…” Reyna arched a brow. This was a first. She’d certainly never heard anything like it before.
“Yes, of course,” Tarrah said, her hollow eyes unblinking. “Only a follower of Unseelie should sit on the throne with the greatest power. Then, and only then, will our god have the power he needs to bless us all with his wisdom, goodness, and strength.”
“Well, that doesn’t sound at all terrifying,” Reyna muttered to herself. She didn’t know if she believed Unseelie even existed. But if he did, it would be a terrible day when he gained power over them all.
“Are you a follower of the Dagda then, Princess Reyna?” Nollaig asked from where she had fully polished off her plate. She leaned forward, gathering a second helping of the various potatoes. “You don’t seem like the type.”
“And what is that supposed to mean?” she asked hotly, suddenly remembering that this was no ordinary dinner with ordinary courtiers. She was dining with the enemy. They needed to be treated as such.
Nollaig put down her fork, her cloak’s long arm rustling against the palm of her hand. “It takes a certain kind of mind to get caught up in religion and prophecies and myths. You seem far too level-headed for that. Swords wield far more damage than the empty words of an invisible god, am I right?”
“Hey!” Tarrah scowled and whacked Nollaig’s arm. “Don’t speak blasphemy at the dinner table. And stop insulting my mind. We got our castle back because of me, remember?”
Nollaig chuckled. “It’s so easy to get a rise out of you, Tarrah.”
Reyna merely gaped at them. When she had imagined the Shadow Court, she had never once envisioned a relaxed dinner table full of joking jabs and laughter. It had been all darkness and gloom and despair. Backstabbing liars, murderous kings.
Well, the king part might have been right, but the rest seemed anything but what she’d expected. Of course, maybe they were putting on a show, trying to put her at ease so that…so that, what? They already had her word, her vow. She was already forced to do the king’s every bidding, even if they kept her locked up in a cage for the rest of her life.
They laughed and joked around for a few more minutes, before finally turning their attention back on Reyna.
“So, what do you believe, Princess Reyna?” Tarrah asked. “Are you a follower of the Dagda?”
Her heart ached. Once, she had believed in him more than anything else in the world. She thought he would protect them, always. But then reality had smacked her in the face. Repeatedly.
“If the Dagda exists, he will never allow you to take the Air Court’s Seat of Power for Unseelie. He’ll fly in from the Court of Death and burn every last one of you to a crisp.”
Tarrah cocked her head and smiled. “Word mincing.”
Reyna scowled. “What?”
“You just minced your words. I’ve always been curious about it.” She shrugged and popped a potato into her mouth. “Where I’m from, everyone just lies.”
What a strange way to put things. “Where you’re from? You mean here, right? In the Shadow Court.”
“No, I mean in the Southern Plains beyond the Dorcha Mountains. They lied so much there that it was almost as though they were allergic to the truth.” She shrugged and glanced around. “Here, you’ll mostly find the truth.”
“Mostly,” Nollaig said. “There is the occasional fib.”
Reyna continued to stare. “You mean to tell me that you lot don’t lie your arses off all day long?” She snorted. “Wait. You got me with that one. You just lied about lying. It’s going to take awhile to get used to this.”
Tarrah reached across the table and patted her hand. Reyna flinched.
“No, Princess. We’re telling the truth. I can understand your doubt though. In time, you’ll see.”
Reyna scowled and dug back into her food, done with the conversation. It was too much. She’d almost felt more comfortable locked away in a room with iron bars. Then, it had been easy to draw a line in the sand. Black and white was always easier to see than the murkiness of grey. They had been liars, the lot of them. Cruel, evil, wrong. None of that had truly changed, of course, but now they seemed almost normal. Like this was any old dinner at court. Reyna did not want to think of them as normal. They’d abducted her. They’d forced her to make vows to their king. She was here against her will, and so was Eislyn. They had threatened her sister’s life.
The shadow fae were monsters. Every last one of them.
Suddenly, Reyna felt the air in the room shift. Shadows seemed to reach out from behind her and pulse along her skin. The scent of leather and smoke and steel drifted into her nose, pushing aside the salty aroma of the food spread out before her.