Page 42 of Let Slip the Dogs of War

Pet. I have never desired one—and I would never wish that for Dante, either—but the thought has heat rushing through me all the same. Pets were far more common a few centuries ago, when we could cross into the human realm at will. A fae would choose someone beautiful, some toy to play with, and bring them back as entertainment. Not that some of those arrangements have not lasted for years.

“He will wear the same colours as me,” I reply. My tongue feels heavy in my mouth. The purple will look striking on Dante, and I cannot fight the urge to stake my claim. There are fae who will not want me to be here. There are those who will believe that my soulbond being here means that my so-called pet is up for grabs.

“Very well, Your Highness.” The Unseelie ducks his head. “We will deliver everything in the next few hours.”

“We will require clothes for the next few days,” I say before they can escape to the door.

Dante makes a questioning sound, but I shake my head. We absolutely intend to find Ophelia and have them leave tonight, but should that not happen, Grant and Dante will need to blend in as much as possible until we can.

“Of course.”

The fae see themselves out and Grant offers Dante’s now mostly empty plate back to him.

Dante takes it but doesn’t eat. “We’re going to find her tonight, aren’t we?”

“As long as she is here, we will,” I say.

“So, the clothes?”

“A precaution. Better to have them now than need them later.”

“It’s a good plan,” Grant says. “That way they won’t suspect we’re about to leave, either.”

I nod. He understands, at least, though Dante still looks suspicious. He eats a couple of strawberries and sighs. “What are we supposed to do now? Wait around for the clothes to arrive?”

He is antsier than he was earlier today. I shake my head. “I should go to the tombs. Pay my respects.”

Dante’s eyes widen. “Oh, you—Yeah, we can stay here.”

Grant frowns. “I wasn’t gonna stay here,” he says. “I didn’t get a good enough walk around the castle earlier. I want to get a feel for it in case we need to make a quick escape.”

I sigh. He is a more proactive thinker than I anticipated. “You can both come with me,” I say.

“No, that’s—We can’t intrude,” Dante says, then sharper when Grant opens his mouth again, “We can’t.”

“Come with me,” I say. I want Dante with me, even if that is unfair of me. But I do not think his hesitation is on his part. “Grant is right. It will give me a chance to give you some lay of the castle without raising undue suspicion.”

Dante eyes me sceptically. “If you’re sure…”

“I am.” I get to my feet and push my hair back from my face. “We will dress, then we will go.”

The way to the royal tombs takes us past the great hall, where preparations are underway for tonight’s ball. Grant lingers in the doorway, and Dante stops too, though he is much more hesitant.

“Will they really get everything done in time?” he murmurs.

I nod. The fae are far enough away that they should not hear us and, even if they do, I cannot concern myself overmuch. I am still an unknown quantity in their eyes. They may tell others the things we say, but they are as likely to keep that knowledge to themselves, in case it comes in useful later.

“They’re the thrones?” Grant asks. He jerks his chin in the direction of the dais, where two golden thrones sit,side by side. They are identical in size and shape. Gender has never mattered when it comes to our rulers. The responsibility they—we—bear is to keep this place alive.

My parents prepared Ronan to take that place in the event of their passing, but reign does not always pass from parents to children. My grandparents did not wear the crowns. I do not know who came before my parents. It was so long ago that I do not believe there is a fae still living who remembers.

“Lots of space,” Dante murmurs. He eyes the thrones with no little scepticism, and I shrug in response. They look isolated, for all that there are two of them. The dais is large. I have always put the strange proportions of the space down to the fact that the rulers must, to some extent, set themselves apart.

“Come,” I say. “We do not have that much time.”

They follow when I walk away, and I quietly point out corridors we take and rooms that we pass. Dante listens attentively, nodding, but Grant’s eyes are dark and quick; he is mapping this place, and I know that when the time comes, he will be able to get Dante away safely.

The door to the royal tombs lies on the western side of the castle, and the corridor that contains it is dark and cold. That in itself is not unusual. We fae are powered by the magic of life. It is why a vampire would, usually, not survive in the Otherworld at all. We mourn, of course, but death is something we shy away from.