The curling moustache I drew above her pouty lips is a definite improvement. She should be thanking me for making her look more fearsome in death.
Her sightless eyes stare back, lids drooping as I nail her pathetic, barely-crimson, cap to the pike beneath her. Stupid female, letting her cap out of her sight. Trusting her greatest weakness to her pathetic mate to protect. Not smart.
As an extra bonus, this little activity has given me an opportunity to collect all sorts of fun body parts for Wraith to play with. I’ve even managed to rip out a few windpipes for him to chew on once they’ve dried.
Rain is starting to trickle down my back as I work, and I whistle, thinking about how much fun it will be to persuade Rose to strip me out of my sodden clothes.
Brushing my hands off—can’t risk giving Rose splinters—I blink back to the Spring Court, directly into the main parlour of Madoc’s fancy residence.
It’s raining in the Spring Court as well, and the fat droplets are pounding the window beside the small table where Rose is playing a game of banriall with her niece. She’s frowning at the pieces on the board like they’ll tell her what to do if she stares at them hard enough. The game is similar to mortal chess, but with a Nicnevin instead of a king, a high priestess in place of a queen. Guards in place of knights and so on.
I’ve seen variations of the same board across the realms I’ve visited, but the rules are far harsher in Faerie.
Even without knowing which of the four variants she’s playing, it’s obvious my mate is only three moves away from losing. I tut under my breath as I blink down from the chandelier—
Oops, damn, not the Illidwen dungeonsagain! Ignoring the screams of the damned—because unseelie are definitely not lazy when it comes to a good round of torture—I finger wave at the master of agonies before I blink a second time, until I’m standing right behind Rose.
Pressing my nose into the crook of her neck, I try to use her natural scent to banish the lingering smell of burnt flesh as I survey the board. Before I can think better of it, my fingers dart forward and move her Nicnevin piece safely out of the reach of the little girl’s high priestess.
“Hey, it’s not fair!” Khloe complains. “I can’t win against the Blade of Autumn!”
Wraith looks up lazily from his spot at their feet at her tone, and his tail begins to thump against the smooth mosaic floor when he recognises me. I must remember to take him out for another game of fetch… Madoc’s stuffy neighbours were less than impressed by a barghest catching limbs in their posh flower gardens.
“Focus less on the priests,” I advise Rose, ignoring my unfortunate moniker. “She’s using her courtiers against you.”
I whip off my cap and tug it snugly down over her ears, grinning as my mate strokes the soft fabric appreciatively. She can tell it’s extra red today. I know it.
Nothing like a good mutiny to freshen one’s cap.
“She’s right,” Rose says, instead of taking my wealth of experience on board. “You’re helping me cheat.”
“It’s outcome engineering,” I correct. “And the child needs to learn that all fae do it sooner or later. I’m dispensing a valuable life lesson free of charge.”
Further proof that I’ll be an excellent father when we reach that point. My chest puffs out, and I take another sniff of Rose’s scent just to make sure she isn’t pregnant, because that’s a surprise she doesn’t want in the middle of all this chaos.
Nope. No scent change. Good to know Kitarni’s potions still work.
Not that I ever doubted that.
When she bleeds, will she let me use my cap to soak it up? Or will her silly mortal hangups get in the way? Kitarni gave her those pads, but they won’t suck the tender flesh between her legs like my hat can…
“Oh! I forgot your gifts!” I blink away, grabbing the giant trunk with a bright red velvet ribbon tied artfully around the lid, then blink back.
Rose gapes in surprise as it lands in the middle of the grand room.
“Lore,” Bree murmurs, frowning as he finally steps out of the shadows. “Is whatever’s in there fit for a child to see?”
I cock my head to one side. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Because you’re covered in blood.” Bree arches a single eyebrow.
Grinning, I look down at the white leathers as I steal my cap from Rose’s head and pass it over the still-dripping splotches. It’s watered down thanks to the rain, but my hat doesn’t mind. The second I’m done, it transforms into a delicate circlet, and I plop it back down on Rose’s brow.
“Ahhh, the perils of leadership. Rest assured, pet, there are no dead bodies in the chest… though if you want one, just say the word.”
Who knows, Rose might want decorating tips for how best to display the heads of her enemies, and I’m just the redcap for the job. It’s been far too long since I did an honest day’s assassinationing—ooh, look at me, making up my own words. I’m practically a scholar now.
Abandoning the game, Rose slips from the chair by the window and approaches it with a wary expression.
