Page 19 of Fallen Court

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Gage.” He drained his glass before depositing it on the table. He stood, peeling off his jacket, and began rolling up his sleeves. “But I can’t let you walk out of this room. Blood spilled and all.” I glanced at the guards surrounding us, but Bain shook his head and wagged a finger at me. “This is between the two of us…for now.”

He didn’t have Cate. There was no bargain to be made. I wouldn’t walk away from this club alive.

There was only one thing to do. I slipped out of my own jacket and smiled grimly at him. “I’ve always wanted to kick your ass.”

Chapter Five

Cate

My guest privileges had been revoked.

I woke up to find I couldn’t leave my room. Every time I tried, it was like I hit an invisible brick wall. No one bothered to check on me. I was beginning to hope these witches would hurry the hell up when a diminutive redhead wheeled a cart laden with breakfast—piles of cheeses and meats, pastries wafting their buttery scents, glossy velvet-dusted berries, and, most importantly, coffee—into my room.

“I guess they want me to stay here?” I asked her, already knowing the answer.

She laid china and silverware on the table by the window, working with a quiet precision and determined to avoid talking to the prisoner.

Because that’s definitely what I was this morning.

When everything was in place, she turned and nodded for me to take a seat.

“I’m surprised Oberon is feeding me,” I admitted as she began piling food onto my plate. “What’s your name?”

She shook her head and offered an apologetic smile, dipping her head in a half curtsy before darting out of the room like a frightened mouse. So much for finding an ally. Not that it would help. If I couldn’t give Oberon the ring, I had nothing to bargain with, and a housemaid wasn’t going to be able to help.

I turned my attention to the food, stomach already growling despite the gloomy thoughts. I’d been awake for hours, and thanks to the fact that fae food never made you full, I was starving.

“She can’t speak to you,” a lofty voice informed me from the doorway.

I whipped toward it, half a croissant shoved in my mouth, to find Titania sneering at me. I swallowed hard. “Are you ever worried that your face is going to get stuck like that?”

Her eyes narrowed.

“Not going to give us a smile, then?” I plucked a bit from the remaining half of the croissant, its delicate layers shattering and dusting the carpet with crumbs.

She grimaced at the mess but stepped inside. “The help isn’t allowed to speak.”

“Maybe they just don’t want to talk to you.” I knew that I didn’t.

“Gods, you’re dense. Lach really loves you? He must be getting desperate.” She waved a hand, and the crumbs on the floor vanished. It pretty much proved that karma didn’t exist that such horrible people had access to such incredible magic. I’d be so much nicer if I never had to vacuum. “The staff cannot speak. They are spelled to remain silent.”

“Spelled?” My appetite vanished. “What kind of monster—”

Before I could finish the sentence, the monster himself strode through the door.

“Mind your manners,” Oberon ordered me. Across the room, Titania snorted. She knew how to play his game, all right, and it involved kissing her brother’s ass at all times.

I bit my tongue so hard that I half expected to swallow it. This was a means to an end. I couldn’t risk what would happen if Oberon attacked the Nether Court. If the court was in danger, Lach would return and quickly find himself at the mercy of the Wild Hunt.

I was protecting him, too.

My stomach pitched, spiraling into a pit, as two Hallow Court guards entered the room.

Neither of them said a word—their brutish physiques and the bulges of holsters under their suit jackets spoke for them. They stepped to the side to allow two women to pass. The younger of the two bowed her head slightly to Oberon, but her silver-haired companion showed no hint of deference. Despite the churning waves of anxiety rolling through me, I nearly smiled to see him frown at the slight.

The younger adjusted the embroidered gloves she wore. A curious choice. Otherwise, she looked remarkably normal in her jeans and sweater. Her hair was pulled into a tight blond knot on the top of her head. “It’s an honor, Your—”

“You summoned us?” The elder cut her off, annoyance on her deeply lined face. She wore no gloves, and her modest dress was cut in an old-fashioned style.