“You know,” I say hotly, “that’s the first time you’ve ever sounded like my mother.”
He draws back as if slapped.
Silence falls across the room.
Even Eris studiously avoids my gaze.
“I may disagree with your mother on most things,” Thiago says in a quiet, deadly voice as he pushes to his feet, “but when it comes to the Old Ones, she and I have very similar feelings. You weren’t born when they walked the earth. You don’t know war. You’ve never lost your entire family to their cults of sacrifice. All you see is a child, a single child, that might stand between an entire world and its fate. Perhaps you should consider that future? Because if we don’t make a small sacrifice now, then what sort of world will that child grow into? What sort of torture and punishment will it know if she captures it?”
I swallow. Hard. “There has to be another way.”
“If you think I wouldn’t take it if there was, then you don’t know me at all.” He turns away from the table, cloak flaring around his ankles as he strides toward the doors.
They slam behind him, leaving me alone with a roomful of his allies.
And a hard lump in my throat.
I’m not wrong.
I’m not.
But neither is he.
To rule is not a gift, one of my tutors once said, but a burden.
“Well,” Finn says, all four feet of his chair hitting the floor as he leans forward, “that was fun.”
“You have a warped idea of fun,” Eris mutters. “It’s not enough to face the Queen of Thorns on one flank, now we have to worry about that pasty bitch in the north and some sort of spawn with the power of the Old Ones?”
“Eris, my love,” he says, lifting her hand to his lips. “While I adore your smile, I’ve not seen it in an age. We’re alive. We know what Angharad is planning in a general sense. And we can stop it. And of course, let us not forget the sheer entertainment gained from watching our mighty prince tremble in the wake of his princess’s wrath.”
I share a look with Eris. “So glad I could amuse you.”
“Oh, it’s not you that amuses me.” He winks. “I’ve watched this play out a dozen times now, and every time, it plays a different tune.”
“Sometimes you shouldn’t open your mouth,” Eris says and rolls her eyes.
There’s a hard lump in my throat. “I think, for once, I’m in agreement with Eris.”
Then I turn and escape the room before my suspiciously hot eyes embarrass me.
It’s Thalia who comes after me.
I sit on the edge of the parapets, staring out over the golden city of Ceres. Fae bustle through the city, going about their lives completely unaware of the argument we had today.
These fae will die if Angharad and her forces attack the city. Or perhaps they’ll march to their deaths in the north.
We could end it, Vi, before it’s already begun. All we have to do is find the child….
One death balanced against many. Can I even blame him for suggesting it?
“He’s on edge,” Thalia points out, seating herself beside me. “It’s bound to make him short tempered.”
“He’s been like this for days,” I mutter.
She peers at me. “He’s worried about the deadline. It always wears on him.”
There are only four weeks left until I’m to be returned to my mother. Three months sounded like such a long time when she announced this treaty, but now each day seems like the tick of a clock heralding our doom.
Four weeks to fall in love with him.
Four weeks in which to hope I’ll remember him when she takes me back.
Four weeks to break this fucking curse.
“I don’t want to hurt him,” I whisper. “But how can I let him do this to a child?”
“It might not be a child.”
“Does it matter?” I meet her eyes. “Whatever age it is, it’s not its fault.”
“Why does it bother you so much?” she asks. “Your mother’s court is ruthless. She’s known for making decisions like these for the good of her people.”
I don’t know the answer to that.
Or maybe I do.
“My mother’s used me as a puppet for years,” I tell her bitterly. “I know Thiago thinks this is the best course of action, but… he didn’t even think there might be another option. Nor did he ask for my opinion. He just made the decision. Judge. Jury. Executioner. I know what it’s like to be pushed and pulled on the whims of another, my life not my own.” I bow my head, resting my chin on my knees. “There’s a little piece of me that feels as though he’s talking of me when he speaks of this leanabh an dàn. Some poor bastard out there is blithely unaware his life is about to end, and for what? The pure, unfortunate luck of his birth? It’s not fair.”
“Thiago’s never cruel.” She rests a hand on mine. “And he’s used to making these decisions by himself. I don’t think it’s deliberate. He’s never ruled with you by his side. He’s never had the chance. It’s not that he’s not listening to you.”
“So I should just accept his judgement on this matter?”
Of course she’s on his side. She’s his cousin.
“Pffawh. No!” Thalia waves a hand in horror. “Let him grovel. He’ll come around once he’s had time to release some of his stress.” A grin lights her face when she sees my dubious look. Before I can move, she leans forward and hugs me. “I know you don’t remember me, but we were friends. And I love watching you twist him in knots each and every time. The pair of you were made for each other.”
For the first time in months, I feel as though I’ve finally found an ally. Maybe some of my memories are creeping back, for I’m not normally so swift to relax around strangers, but I can’t help leaning into her hug.
“He still seems a stranger,” I confess.
Thalia draws back, waggling her eyebrows. “You can fix that.”
Heat crawls up my cheeks. “Are you sure you’re not working on his side?”
“If it’s any consolation, you seem to enjoy being in his bed as much as he does.”
I can’t help thinking of all that naked skin on display while we were stuck in that hunting cabin.
“Maybe I should make him grovel.”
“On his knees,” Thalia suggests, with a wicked grin that reminds me of the prince so badly, I feel a little twinge somewhere in the vicinity of my chest.
“Now I know the pair of you are related.”
She laughs, then pushes to her feet and stretches. “Come on! Let’s go raid the kitchen. The head spriggan is an old friend, and I smelled the delicious waft of some of her pastries as I was heading up here.”
That night, there’s a knock on my bedroom door.
“Come in,” I call.
I was expecting Thalia, come to bring me a cup of warmed milk and honey, but the prince strides in as if he’s master of my bedchamber.
He pauses by the window, hands clasped behind his back. I owe him a kiss, but I’ve always been careful to ensure it occurs in the dining room, or the library, or even the ballroom.