CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
Rooke
Without any sleep to soften my fury at her father’s twisted games, sitting with Sari now in one of the many gardens of Yris is almost too much to bear. Soren’s seething anger still claws at the wall between us, but when I was summoned to the gardens I had no choice but to close our connection. From across the table, the cold gaze of the Ancient keeps my head clear and my focus where it needs to be. The table is filled with dozens of high fae loyal to her wretched father, and a decadent spread of pastries and sweet treats is set out before us all. The tea is pleasant enough, though with no effects that could ease the storm brewing within my heart.
“Honestly, it's such a barbaric language! I don't understand why you could possibly find interest in it.”
I glance at the woman speaking, a fan in her hand that is entirely unnecessary with the chill of the oncoming winter in the air, but she waves it as a form of performance to add weight and drama to her stories. Lady Loreth lifts a cup of tea to her lips, ignoring the female while the male at her side stares longinglyat the beauty, not even attempting to hide how much he desires her. A lot of the males at the table do the same, though I can't blame them.
“Considering I’ve spent some time this morning reading over the laws of the goblin lands, the accords, and mountains of historical correspondence to aid my father in his diplomatic efforts with the Goblin King, I’d say that my interest in the language is certainly useful, even if it's beyond your understanding,” Sari says primly as she refills my cup.
Setting it before me, she wears the same vacuous smile on her face that she wore over dinner as she navigates the gossip and barbs of these idiots as though she was born to do so. She’s clever and far stronger than anyone could guess, that much is certain, but as she smiles at the woman trembling next to the Ancient, I wonder if she could keep up the act if it were one of her sisters that was carved to pieces on the marble floor. I certainly couldn't.
“What a terrible task for the regent, to endure dealing with those vile creatures! He’s certainly facing many trials I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy,” the woman proclaims, letting out a small shudder before glancing at one of the nearby guards with a coy smile.
Sari doesn't look at the guards. She weaves around the female’s asinine games, and I appreciate her skill now for what it is. “I heard the Goblin King has far more soldiers than we do, thanks to that awful curse. I fear it’s in our best interests to hand the errant prince back until thissituationwith my cousin is dealt with. Once Father has brought more stability to the kingdom, he’ll surely bring the goblins to heel.”
The table all lean toward her, drinking in her every word, and she coaxes them into her snare masterfully. The Ancient and I are the only guests who look on without murmuring and shifting in our seats with glee, drunk on the power the princess holds.The male seated with Lady Loreth picks up his cup and holds it to his lips as he murmurs something too low for my hearing.
Sari shoots him a disapproving look. “Now, now, Torvyn. Rooke is my honored guest and was once a member of my betrothed’s household—any disrespect you show her speaks volumes of your opinion of my future husband. Father taught me that the loyalty of a wife must be absolute, as must the obedience of a daughter.”
Torvyn blanches and turns to me, bowing his head and stuttering out an apology. Distress pours from him. Sari’s tone never shifts from its usual light and joyful cadence, but she wields her words with the might of a war hammer.
With another sweet smile to me, she says, “I’ll answer your question regardless, Torvyn, it makes for good fun, and Rooke is far more intelligent than any witch we’ve ever entertained. I'm sure she can keep up.”
She squeezes my fingers on the table where everyone can see as though telling an old joke between friends, the familiarity forced, but I wonder how many other hands she’s squeezed as she follows her father's demands. I wonder how many witches she’s dined with, and how many of their hands were stained with the blood of my family.
“When the Fates War first began and King Rylle sent out calls for aid, it was just after my dear aunt and beloved uncle were horrifically murdered, so there wasn't much we could offer. However, a small number of Unseelie high fae chose to journey to the Northern Lands to fight against the monsters of the Fates, and they still live within the Seelie Court. At first, Father contacted the Sol King in the hopes that these brave males could be discharged from his service and return home. King Rylle was reluctant—their kingdom is still recovering from the devastation of the war, after all. This obstacle proved to be a gift in disguise as Father then contacted the High Commander and found anoble ally in the male, powerful enough to receive my hand in marriage. All of this is to say… the Goblin King’s forces won’t outnumber the armies of the Unseelie Court for much longer.”
She turns to smile at the Ancient, but he’s staring into the garden as though his mind is thousands of miles away. The utter stillness of his body and the power trapped in his chest bends the air around him, rattling the rest of the guests at the table. They all avoid looking in his direction, and those forced to sit next to him are stiff with fear, their movements awkward.
Lady Loreth places her cup delicately down in its the saucer and waves off one of the servants about to fumble over himself to refill it, and I’m forced to admire the skillful manipulation she uses to bend the conversation in the direction she so desperately desires. “Whatever will your father do without an heir, Sari? If he sends you to the Northern Lands to marry a prince there, what will become of our kingdom?”
Sari stares down the table at her with hardened eyes, though her smile never slips. “I’m sure my father is eager to become an Ancient himself and never leave our good kingdom without a competent king again! His dedication to the safety of the throne is resolute, and he’s already considered such a fate. In his negotiations with the High Commander, it was agreed that our firstborn son shall be returned to the Southern Lands when he comes of age, to serve as heir to the throne and ensure the Celestial bloodline holds true.”
A murmur ripples around the table, gazes brushing over the Ancient carefully, and I realize they’re rattled by the prospect of accepting an heir to the Southern Lands who’s of Seelie blood. I remember well Aura’s treatment of Roan and her grandson, who bears his father's umber skin tone and golden eyes. She was horrified at the prospect of the Unseelie Court’s opinions when the Snowsong prince was revealed to them, and the same disgust I felt for her then I feel for these high fae now.
Sari ignores them entirely, filling her plate with pastries as she stares at Lady Loreth, but the female only smiles prettily back. “I suppose you don't have the curse to worry about once you join the Seelie Court.”
I almost roll my eyes at her but, instead, I join Sari in staring down the table at her though I’m certain my eyes show far more of my contempt for her than the princess’s do. “The curse was broken. Should any high fae wish to bear children once more, they won’t fall victim to Kharl Balzog’s magic any longer, though there are countless other dangers in childbirth. Are there any competent healers available in Yris? Perhaps your concerns should turn to finding one.”
The table all turn to stone at my ire, shown so openly to them all, but I’m ready to leave this table and this castle behind. The feeling gets worse as Lady Loreth nods at me in victory rather than thanking me or even acknowledging that I’ve allayed her fears. Lifting her cup to her lips, she turns to the female next to her and strikes up another conversation, as though I’m no longer worth her attention.
My magic writhes in my fingertips, forcing me to take a breath lest she learn that my Ravenswyrd heart lies within a witch forced to take up a sword and fight battles beyond her wildest dreams.
Sari makes a little happy noise in the back of her throat, her shoulders trembling as she practically wriggles in her seat. “Such a gift you have given the Unseelie Court, Rooke, and so selflessly! We’ll forever be in your debt. I do hope that you enjoy your stay with us before Father sees us both safely to the Northern Lands.”
She clasps my hand again, only this time she presses something into my palm. Cold metal wrapped around a stone, the ring ornate enough that some of the edges are sharp where they press into my skin. Sari ensures our fists are claspedsecurely around it before lifting them from the table, giving my hand a little shake in front of everyone as though declaring my victory and demanding they all sing my praises. Only when her captive audience gushes over us both does she let our hands fall to rest underneath the table together.
Preening under their fawning, Sari directs the conversation away from me and draws their attention to the other end of the table with very little effort. I take the opportunity to turn my wrist up and stash the ring away, a risk, but not difficult to smooth over. The pop of light at my elbows is smothered by my robes, and I let my eyes flash with magic for a moment to cover it up just in case any of the guards caught a glimpse of it.
The male sitting on my other side tenses, but I press a napkin to my cheek and murmur, “Apologies, my control sometimes slips when I’m overtaken with emotion. It’s such a great honor to be of service to the Celestial family. Princess Sari is a delightful host, indeed.”
The Ancient turns to look at me, the gold of his eyes searing as they study my face. He clearly thinks far less of the Unseelie Court than the regent hopes, and his gaze is cold as it roams over me before, eventually, he turns away.
Linking her arm through mine,Sari leads me through the castle and talks endlessly of the architecture and the furnishings along the way. A small group of the high-fae females who joined us for tea walk a few paces behind us, respectfully distancing themselves from the princess even as they simper along with her every word. It’s distasteful; not one utters a true opinion, they all agree endlessly with her. I'm surprised she hasn't gone mad withboredom, existing so long surrounded by folk who only pander to her every need.
“Are the Seelie castles like this one, or am I going to find myself adjusting to far more than the heat?” Sari asks as she looks out the windows that line the hallway, rooftops and clouds as far as the eye can see.
