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She looked into his drawn face and understood so completely that it knocked the breath out of her.
What belongs to you, yet others use it more than you do?
Your name.
The Unseelie Queen's voice broke her concentration. She seemed to be speaking in time with the distant drum. "Do you accept this mortal as your sacrifice?"
"We do accept."
Kaye looked around, in a panic now. What the hell did he want her to use his name for? The brugh was huge and it was full. Did he really think he could somehow get her out of here?
"Do you so bind yourselves to us?"
The solitary fey spoke as one. "We do bind ourselves."
Kaye couldn't help the frantic pulling on her chain. Panic was spreading through Kaye like liquid, turning her blood to ice.
"What is the term of your service?"
Dawn was coming. Kaye saw the red glow out beyond the burning green flames.
"Seven years is the length of our binding."
The Queen raised her dagger. "Let the compact be sealed in blood."
No one was coming to save her. Kaye pulled hard on her chains, throwing her whole weight against them, but they were tight, and the heel of her palm could not slip through them. They burned even more as she shifted. The Unseelie Queen looked surprised. Dimly Kaye realized that her calm and silence must have made her seem as though she were still enchanted.
She struggled to damp down her panic long enough to think.
She had to use his name. She had no idea what to command him to do.
A specific command… save me… stop this… get me out of here?
Roiben was glaring at her.
How could he want her to do this? It made no damn sense, but there was no more time to think.
"Rath Roiben Rye." Her voice was soft, the words running together in her panic. She realized what she was doing, and her throat almost closed up. "Cut my bonds."
Roiben drew his finger-slim sword, and the Unseelie Court seethed with noise. A moment of hesitation, and then he smiled. It was a dark, horrible smile, the most terrible expression she had ever seen.>It felt solid in his stomach, and the overwhelming empty hunger abated. It left him squatting under one of the trees, awake and aware. He looked at his filthy hands, the stained clothes, the laughing Folk, and he choked to keep from crying like a child for sheer helplessness.
"There, there," Nephamael said, patting Corny's shoulder.
Corny stood, fists clenched.
"Poor Corny. You look so fragile, I'm afraid your heart will break." There was amusement in the knight's tone.
Corny could feel himself reacting to that rich, smooth voice, could feel the shame and embarrassment receding until they seemed of only distant importance.
"Come here, my pet. You've made a mess of yourself." Nephamael raised his hand, beckoning.
One look into those yellow eyes and he broke like a wishbone. Corny stepped into the circle of Nephamael's arms, basking in the feel of thorns.
Tonight the revels were quieter. No dueling fiddlers or raucous daisy-chain dances. There were no piles of fruit or honey cakes. Instead there were whispers and smothered laughter. The only light came from braziers throughout the brugh and the small faeries that flitted over the congregation.
It was hard to think. Kaye's feet were cold as they padded along the earthen floor. The haze of magic had lifted slowly, but the less she was enchanted, the more she was terrified.
She was going to die. It didn't matter if her feet were cold.
