Then I straighten and address the unasked question in Jack’s eye. “Do the Mice think I’m feeding on her?”
Jack averts his gaze.
The Mice aren’t just a rebellion network of vampires who demand the monarchy be dismantled. It’s not just that they resent being kept in the literal dark ages when the Common World is granted access to electricity and freedoms that we aren’t allowed on this side of the border. They are human sympathizers. They believe in the ethical treatment of humans, and they believe the King’s thrall over humans denies them their free will to donate their blood to vampire kind. That mortals need to be allowed to choose each time, not just the first before they sink into unknowing servitude.
And though it hasn’t been confirmed, I suspect a fair number of the Mice may even be humans themselves. I’ve heard of vampire/human relationships existing on the outskirts of society, but until my proposal it had been rare to happen amongst the fairy court. The last time was Cinder’s father who married a wealthy Midnight fairy who was seeking entrance to the court.
“I’m not feeding from her.” My tone is a dark warning. “I would never. She is not a blood bag.”
Jack winces at the reference before his upper lip curls in distaste.
It’s not my term. It’s a disgusting reference, and I keep a far distance from the fairies who use it.
“Listen, if the Mice want my father off the throne, I am their best bet.”
Jack’s eyes almost sink further into his skull as he warily regards me. “There is chatter that you want the throne for yourself.”
My laugh comes out as a dry bark. “Me? Rule the kingdom? They must all be high. Everyone knows I’m not suitable to run anything, much less Midnight. I'm just the pretty boy who can get in places no one should be able to.”
The only reason I’d take the throne is to give it away.
I’m no ruler.
The people don’t need a fuck up for their leader. No, it’s better I pass the ball to someone better. Really,anyoneelse is better.
I’ve been feeding the Mice information about my father and the castle for months, hoping to rally them into action. But they are hesitant to make such a strong move, especially behind someone they think may be leading them into a trap.
“So you are telling me, my publicity stunt did nothing?” I ask Jack, running a frustrated hand through my hair.
Okay, not nothing. I had that goth goddess shaking and coming in a room full of fairies, becoming the most enrapturing thing I’ve ever seen.
“The Mice are still listening,” Jack says, yanking me from my seductive thoughts. “And I do think Byung-He's daughter may be key. Keep showing up with your bride in tow, and I’ll work on them.”
“Cinder. Her name is Cinder.” The violent edge in my voice surprises even me. I can’t deny that I’m instantly irritated at hearing her reduced to the sum of her relations. She is her own person. Hell, she’s a force of nature.
Jack’s eyes widen in surprise before he nods. Something flashes over his face, like understanding.
He’s about to leave when I stop him. “I’ll put on a good show, but I need you to do something for me in the meantime.”
After I give him his assignment he sneaks out of my room, going back the secret way he came.
Just because I can’t leave the castle, doesn’t mean I can’t push my influence past it.
The idea of the Mice worrying I want to use them to take over my father’s rule is laughable. I’m not cut out to lead anyone. Pick up any tabloid and they can see how ruefully ridiculous I am when it comes to acting responsibly. My entire history revolves around avoiding it.
I wonder when I changed enough to seek out the Mice.
It was somewhere between one of the ruthless beatings my father gave me and having to stare at the empty-eyed servants, pretending they weren’t prisoners in their own bodies.
Even before I spent time in the Common World, I’d come to respect humans. Courtesy of my mother’s guidance to treat everyone equally and the presence of a certain violet-eyed little girl who was always on the fringe of my awareness.
The girl who ran around with smears of paint on her face and hands. Who spent so much time with a father who loved and cherished her. At times I wanted to despise her for having something I couldn’t, but in truth, I merely envied her.
Despite being cast out and separated, she seemed to form her own little world to live in between art and the dark countryside. I remember after a particularly brutal beating from my father for some weakness or another, I ran out to the cliffside and found Cinder. Her little legs dangled over the edge as she sat fearlessly, careless of the violent crashing waves below, absently humming to herself and alternating her attention between the stars and the ocean.
An invisible hand gripped the organ in my chest. I wanted to see the world through her eyes. To be so independent that I wouldn’t have to answer to anyone.
Instead of approaching her, I found my peace in watching hers.
