Of course it hadn’t. One mention of the wood king, and he had gone scurrying away like the rat he was.
“Quite right,” Aengus said, rubbing his chin. “We will need someone who is trusted, particularly amongst you lords and ladies of the court.” His eyes slid to Mariel. “You. I need you to take charge of this castle in my stead.”
Her lips twitched. “Of course. I won’t let you down.”
Aengus left at first light with a company of guards. The entire court saw him off, waving and smiling and tossing golden handkerchiefs in the air. Celebrating his great victory in allying with the wood king, of course. But as soon as he was out of sight, Lady Regan turned to Mariel with a scowl.
“Gods, am I glad to get his weaselly face out of my sight. I thought he’d never go!”
Lord Neil strode closer, beaming. “He’s like a fungus. Hard to scrub out.”
Mariel crossed her arms over her chest. “Why did it take so long? Frankly, I thought one of you would kill him. Did you not get my letter?”
Lord Neil and Lady Regan exchanged a glance. “We weren’t certain it was true until we saw you with our own eyes. And, truthfully, we were worried about that curse. You saw what happened to the Selkirks when they murdered a king.”
Mariel frowned. “Aengus is the Grand Alderman. He doesn’t hold the Seat of Power.”
“Then, why didn’t you kill him? You had plenty of chances yourself.”
“It isn’t the curse. It’s the principle,” she said. “My father always taught me that if you need to kill someone to gain power, then you shouldn’t have that power.”
Lady Regan’s eyes softened. “Ah, your father. He was a good king.”
“Unlike Sloane Selkirk,” Mariel said through gritted teeth. “The fae who killed him.”
“Well, my dear, he got his due in the end. He’s gone and so is the rest of his dreadful family. And you’re here. The throne is yours for the taking.”
“Except it isn’t. Not truly. Thane Selkirk still holds it, wherever he is. And Aengus is the Grand Alderman. He can claim it upon his return, and it is rightfully his. In name, only. But his.”
They exchanged a glance again. “We will never allow him to have it. Besides, he won’t be coming back.”
Mariel raised her brows. “Don’t tell me you sent assassins after him.”
Lady Regan smiled. “Not at all. As I’m sure you’ve guessed, the wood king did not write that letter. He didn’t extend a hand to Aengus. And when Aengus trots into the Wood Court on that high horse of his...”
“High King Ulaid Molt will chew him up and spit him out.”
“Perhaps literally.”
A shiver went down Mariel’s spine. She had known the lords and ladies were conspiring, but she had not guessed quite how much. It was clever, she would give them that.
“But how did you do it?” she asked. “We can’t lie. Not even in a letter.”
Lady Regan shrugged. “We had a human write it for us. Turns out, there are far more of them on this continent than you’d think.”
Mariel smiled.
So, Aengus truly was gone. He would not survive the Wood Court, no matter how cunning he was. Hopefully, Thane would never return either. He had been a decent lad. He’d tried to do the right thing until he’d abandoned his people. In the end, the Selkirks had torn the realm apart. The kingdom of air needed a fresh start. A new ruler. Someone stronger. Someone fairer. Someone not tied to a cursed family.
They needed Mariel Dalais.
It was her court now. Her throne. Her city. Her rule.
And she would never allow anyone to take it from her again. The Bloody Dagger was finally home.
55
Eislyn
It was easier to find smugglers when one knew what one was doing. Eislyn Darragh hunkered behind some barrels at the edge of Snowport’s docks, watching the crews come and go from their ships. There were three that looked to be the right size with crews much more varied and wild than the others. Ones with fae who had glints in their eyes.
Squaring her shoulders, she pushed up from her hiding place and approached the nearest ship. It was a large black thing with a mast decorated with sigils from each of the six courts. Bold, Eislyn could not help but think.
“Excuse me,” she said to the female whose back was turned toward her. The fae shot a quick glance over her shoulder, a ginger-haired female with a smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks.
Her deep green eyes slightly widened when she caught sight of Eislyn. “I don’t want any trouble, love.”
“Good,” Eislyn said. “Neither do I.”
“Then, you’ll need to do a better job with that disguise of yours.” She gestured vaguely at Eislyn’s face. She’d hidden her hair beneath a hoarfrost cloak hood, and she’d thought the shadows would hide most of her features. Many ice fae had silver hair. She was not unusual in that.
“Maybe I’m not who you think I am.”
The female fully turned to her, crossing her arms over her beige linen tunic. “Aren’t you?”
Eislyn pressed her lips together. “What gave me away?”
“Well, for one, everyone in the city is talking about you, and I’m the kind of fae interested in what kind of coin I could get in exchange for handing you over to Lord Morcant’s angry sons.” The fae gave Eislyn a pointed look that made her skin crawl. “And two, you look like a damn princess, love. You’re pretty and shiny, and that cloak of yours is worth more than everything I’ve got on this ship combined.”
“What do you have on this ship? And by that, I mean your hatch,” Eislyn asked with a small smile.
The fae started, and then laughed. “Clever. What gave me away?”
“None of your crew is from around here,” Eislyn answered. “Your accents are from all over the place, and you don’t have the silver hair of the north. That might not stand out in Falias, but it stands out here. These fae rarely venture further south than Hoarfrost Forest. There’s also your mast with all the sigils. That could work for some merchant ships, but not here. Not in Snowport.”
“And here I thought princesses were dumb.”
“Are you still going to try to sell me to my cousins? Because I’ll just tell them what you’re doing here.”
“Sure, you might. Unless I cut out your tongue.”
Eislyn fisted her hands and stalked closer to the fae. “Listen. I have had a really bad month, and I need to get the hell out of this city. Where are you going?”
The smuggler arched a brow. “Tuath Island.”
“Good,” Eislyn snapped. “I want to go with you.”
She laughed. “You’re going to have to do better than that, love. If you want passage on my ship, I’ll need something in return.”
“And what’s that?” Eislyn demanded.
“You have coin?”
“A little.
“How much?”
Eislyn scowled. “A hundred airgead.”
The smuggler shook her head, still chuckling. “You know what that’ll buy you? I can take you as far as that rock over there, and then I’ll have to toss you overboard.”