Twisting poppy-stained locks around her fingers, she smiles back at him. “I’ve heard eating your food will trap me here in Faery forever.”
“That would be exciting.” He leans close, bumping shoulders with her on purpose. Spark shrieks and tugs the girl’s hair. “It would be a pleasure to have you with us forever, Lara. But, unfortunately, that particular rumor isn’t true. But food can be enchanted as a means to trick you or change you, so take care who you accept it from.”
As my anger flares, the sky shakes, and I say, “If you’re worried, you could choose to eat nothing and starve to death. That might be a neat solution to the problem of your presence here.”
Golden eyes shoot me an unwanted message, one full of brotherly disappointment. “What is this nonsense you speak?” Raff asks. “Once, you were kind to those less fortunate than you. If your will of late is to enhance the suffering of others, then I know little of you anymore, brother.”
That is true—he no longer knows me. It is an impossible task. Because how does one understand the cruelty of the night sky, unfathomable in its limitless blackness?
Such is my mind. Such is my life.
“He wasn’t always like this,” Raff says to the human. “He used to play with wolf pups and banter with the kitchen servants before begging a plate of marigold cookies.”
“And since we are reminiscing, don’t forget the time I skinned that bwagnod alive when I caught him standing over your bed about to slice you into pieces. That was fun.”
The human stiffens, and Raff’s face falls. “But you were sixteen then, and it was after the black poison had set in.”
“Was it?” I ask, curious to know the answer.
“Yes, when Rain died. Remember?”
I’d prefer not to.
“Who’s Rain?” the girl asks.
As anger flares again in my chest, I bark, “Be quiet now. Don’t speak. It is time to stay silent.”
Raff glares at me. “You gave the order three times. Once would probably have sufficed.”
“Not with this human it wouldn’t. If you had endured her company for even one full day, you would be violating your own rules of decorum and shouting and snarling at her. Wait and see. It won’t be long, and you too shall be treating her thusly.”
The girl digs an elbow into the leather wrapping my side. “I can’t wait to be rid of you either. I don’t care what your court does to me as long as it means my time with you ends.”
She looks to Raff. “I have another question about faeries. Is saying thank you dangerous?”
I roll my eyes, and Raff answers. “It’s fine, but probably not wise to indulge in the practice too often. The Folk tend to take advantage of excessive gratitude.”
Spark makes a flying leap into the wasp’s lap, and they chatter together like old friends, stroking each other’s red pelts.
When we’re on the bridge in sight of the city gates, Raff brings his horse close and speaks in a whisper so soft the girl most likely cannot hear it. “Brother, shouldn’t you make her walk? If the guards see her held so securely in your arms, they may take the wrong impression from the sight.”
Of course. What am I thinking? I’ve become so accustomed to her weight cradled against my thighs, she feels like part of my body, albeit a useless and unnecessary limb.
“Perhaps you left your powers of intellect on a log back in the forest?” says Raff, grinning.
I fake a smile. “I must have.”
Pulling Jinn to a halt, I pry Spark off the girl and pass the animal back to Raff. “You must dismount and walk behind us,” I tell her.
“What? Why?” she says, clinging to my leather bracer as though I am her greatest protector. Hardly. Does she not realize I am the exact opposite?
Beaming, Raff says in a secretive tone, “The dedicated way he guards you, close and tight in his arms, the court may take you for a bride rather than a captive. There may be a riot. The queen will expire from shock. And where will the Court of Five be then?”
A whirlwind of my making tears at Raff’s hair as I dismount and pull Lara from the saddle. “Walk a few paces away,” I instruct. “And no matter what happens when we enter the city, keep your head down and try not to do anything stupid.”
As I swing back onto Jinn, Balor trots to the human’s side and walks alongside her.
“Your hound is smitten,” says Raff, a host of devils laughing in his golden gaze.
I huff. “She seems to have a way with animals. You will not believe what happened this morning when I felled a doe.”
“Try me.”
“Appalled and saddened by the creature’s death, she sang to mark its passing. Sang to a dead doe! I couldn’t believe it.”
“And her voice, what was it like?”
I look at him and open my mouth, but no words come out.
He laughs at me again. “That good, was it?”
“I grow weary of your laughter.” He finds this situation with the mortal funny, but I do not. Unless it’s at another’s misfortune, I’ve forgotten how to laugh.
Raff glances back at her shuffling along, her eyes agog at the sparkling spires above us, and he asks, “Shouldn’t you bind her hands and tie the bonds to the saddle, so she doesn’t flee?”
“No need. She’s made a bargain to stay by my side until the morrow.”
Raff’s brow hikes skyward. “Oh? You will have an interesting evening in your chambers then.”
“Don’t be foolish. If she’s still alive, she will sleep this night in the dungeon or with the servants. Mother will make sure of it.”
At least I hope she will.
Cunning deceivers every last one of them, humans are worse than I remembered. This girl may have beguiled my brother, but I do not like her chances of charming the Queen of Five.
No one fools my mother.
Chapter 7
THE QUEEN
Lara
Talamh Cúig is a breathtaking tribute to the elements.
On the high bridge that leads to the city’s entrance, the horses shift from a lazy amble into a brisk walk, and I speed up behind them, gaping at green, turreted towers and smooth black walls that drip with mossy vines, and ethereal waterfalls twisting in a tumble of molten silver down to the river.
Despite the eerie light, teal spires glint brightly as they spear through gloomy clouds like points of a crown. Terra River rushes below us, and ornately carved gates, the color of dark jade, loom above.
The vision is a wild fantasy, a dark dream. Strange, yet so familiar because for the first fifteen years of my life, this very sight—the jagged mountain, the sprawling city—graced our dining room wall. My mother painted Ever’s home, and without a doubt, she once stood in this exact same spot. I burn to ask if he remembers her, what she did here, how was she treated, and how she managed to return home.
But, of course, I don’t.
As we approach the gates, two black-armored sentries lift curling animal horns to their mouths and blow. They herald our arrival with long mournful calls that reverberate out over the valley.
“Damn, there’s no chance of sneaking in now.” Raff tosses his chestnut hair and speaks loud enough for me to hear as I trail behind the horses like a slave the princes have purchased at market.