The fae keep names private.
“Humans share their names,” I remind her gently.
“Mm.” Kitty grunts, eyeing me. “Alyth Graham.”
I give her a tiny smile. Humans cannot be controlled with their names, not like the fae. But I have another name, one my father bestowed on me. And I have never told Kitty—or anyone—that name.
“Darnley, Mary’s mate,” I say, bringing the brownie back to the task at hand. “He is not to be trusted. He is not a good man. And I fear he would take advantage of the queen.”
“Advantage?” Kitty asks, making a lewd gesture.
“Yes. Like that.”
“She would tell him no if she did not want that.”
“He would not listen.”
“Then she should kill him!” Kitty roars, standing up so abruptly that some of the cream sloshes from the bowl. She ignores it, hands on her hips, glaring. “No man should take that from a woman, mated or not!”
“I agree. That is why I am asking you to help keep her doors locked.”
“She is a queen!” Kitty shouts, still affronted. “She does not need protection from husband! He is beneath her!”
Emotion chokes my voice.
Because Kitty is right.
But so am I. And to men like Darnley, no woman is a queen.
No woman deserves power.Especiallynot the kind that would mean he was refusedanythinghe wanted.
And revenge takes many forms behind closed doors.
“She should kill him,” Kitty says firmly. “Stab him with a sword if he tries to stab her with his—”
“It’s a little more complicated than that,” I say gently. “It is not an easy thing to kill a king.”
“You’re wrong,” Kitty snarls. “They die like any other man.”
“Wee bloodthirsty monster,” I mumble, and Kitty preens. “I’ll tell you a secret,” I add, louder. “There may come a time when we get to kill Darnley.”
“You don’t need to give me a scone!” Kitty declares. “I shall do it for fun.” She pauses. “But I would like—”
“If it comes to it, I’ll give you a dozen scones,” I assure her. She purrs in response. “But first, I want to get some information out of him.” I just have to figure out how he got a Red Cap weapon…and which other ones he has.
She knows this. I’ve had the Leths and the fae who reside in or near the castle on high alert since David was murdered.
“What about the other humans who have arrived?” Kitty asks. “Can I stab any of them?”
I laugh. “They’re guests at Mary’s invitation. They come to see the baby.”
Kitty licks up some crumbs, mumbling something about the baby. Brownies adore children; the little prince’s nursery has been kept warm and safe since the minute Mary arrived at Stirling with him.
I stand. Kitty watches me from her position at the hearth. “Any news,” I remind her, “and I’ll be sure to make it worth your while.”
Even if it takes every scone in Scotland to pay her.
***
