Page 83 of Night and Silence

I remained low to the floor, even going so far as to press one finger to my lips and signal Tybalt to silence. He gave me a disgusted look. I shrugged. Yes, he’d been taking care of himself for longer than I’d been alive, but this was my show, and I needed him to take his cues from me.

“You lied, Sir Daye. You told my mistress you couldn’t restore what wasn’t there anymore, and then you turned around and gave your daughter her eternity back. Naughty girl.” He sounded almost amused. “My lady doesn’t care for liars, but there’s still a chance for you. Anything can be forgiven, if you’re useful enough. If you’re willing to work for the privilege of returning to her good graces.”

Dugan paused, clearly expecting me to say something. When I didn’t, he stomped his foot, making an audible huffing noise.

“You’ve done your best to ruin everything, but you’re just one woman, and you can’t be everywhere. You’ll always be vulnerable. You’ll always be a target. Why not give it up now and join the winning side?”

He was somewhere ahead and to the right. I began crawling through the fog, keeping my head low. Tybalt matched me, moving with a little less grace than I was accustomed to seeing from him. The sight woke a strange, out-of-place ache in my chest. He should have been in cat form by now, slinking along on four legs and ready to pounce. Instead, thanks to my mother, he was stuck like this. It wasn’t fair.

This wasn’t the time to dwell on past damage. I rolled closer, grabbing the collar of Tybalt’s shirt and pulling him as close as I could. Pressing my lips to the curve of his ear, I breathed, “Get the others,” before shoving him away.

He looked at me for a moment with wide, startled eyes. Then he nodded, silently agreeing to follow my commands, and rolled into the fog, disappearing from view. That must have been enough to qualify as a shadow. The scent of pennyroyal and musk rose, and I knew he was gone, leaving me alone with Dugan.

Dugan Harrow: Daoine Sidhe. Blood magic, illusions, and whatever tricks he might have borrowed from the false Queen. His loyalties were first to power, second to himself, and third, ridiculous as it seemed, to her. He was still trying to be loyal enough to earn her good regard. What he thought that would get him was less clear—although with Daoine Sidhe, it’s so often about what gets them a path to the throne. The false Queen had no spouse, no heirs. Her relationship with the deposed King Rhys of Silences was the closest I’d ever seen her come to caring about another person. Staying close to her, letting her think he was sorry for his attempted betrayal and had become faithful . . . that might seem like a way to one day add “king” to his list of titles.

It was never going to happen. Even if he killed Nolan, Arden would still have her throne, and there was no way she was going to name her brother’s murderer as her heir. But if he didn’t understand the legitimacy of her claim, or if he somehow believed that he could override the decision of the High King and put his own nameless figurehead back in charge . . .

When all else fails, count on the arrogance and corruption of the purebloods. It almost always carries the day. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned about the arrogant, it’s that they really, really don’t like to be mocked.

Tybalt was on the Shadow Roads. He’d be halfway to Muir Woods by now, where he could gather forces to help him help me. Quentin and May, at minimum; Arden and her guards. I only needed to stall for a few minutes.

I pushed myself away from the floor and rose out of the fog, holding my knife in front of me as I turned to sneer in what I guessed was the correct direction. Dugan was standing at the base of the dais, Nolan kneeling in front of him with his hands bound behind his back. Nolan’s eyes were bright with rage. I guess no amount of temporal displacement will make kidnapping seem like anything but what it is.

There were no illusions on him now. Dugan Harrow stood before me revealed, from his dark green hair to the planes of his cheekbones, sharp enough to slice glass. He was handsome, there was no denying that. He was also horrible, rendered such by his own choices, which had stripped every scrap of decency away.

It was hard not to look at him and see exactly what Eira had been hoping to make of her descendants. He was here for power. Everything else was secondary.

“There you are,” said Dugan, sounding satisfied. He held up a rowan sheath, large enough to hold a blade slightly longer than mine. “Do you know what this is?”

“I have a bunch of guesses, but most of them aren’t fit for polite company, and the prince, at least, is polite.” I nodded toward Nolan. “Your Grace. Has he hurt you? I’ll cut off his ears if he’s hurt you.”

“Nothing I can’t recover from, Sir Daye,” said Nolan. “A few bruises. A few scrapes. Some wounded pride. Have you come to take me home?”

“That’s the plan.”

Dugan scowled. “Your attention should remain on me, if you want your precious prince to remain among the living.”

I lifted one eyebrow. “Why? Are you going to threaten stabbings? I love it when people threaten stabbings in front of witnesses. That makes it self-defense and means I’m much less likely to get in trouble for kicking the crap out of you.”

Dugan curled his lip and removed the sheath from his blade. My blood went cold. Nolan paled, leaning away as much as his current position would allow. Naturally. He was closer to the knife. He could probably feel the poison rolling off of it.

Dugan smirked, holding the iron knife up to make sure I saw every cold, pitted inch of it. It looked almost raw, like it had barely been touched by the blacksmith’s hammer. Every inch of me wanted to turn and run, fae instincts kicking in at the worst possible time. “Not so cocky now, are you, Sir Daye? Are you ready to negotiate? Or shall I slit this poor princeling’s throat, and remove one more pretender from the line of the throne?”

“Iron knives are sort of your thing, aren’t they, Dugan? Where do you keep getting them?” My own knife was silver. It would be no match for his. Silver is a soft metal. Fae metalworkers imbue it with layer upon layer of enchantment, making it harder and more capable of holding an edge. Iron would cancel all that out. If his knife hit mine, it would slice through the silverwork like it was butter, and I would be unarmed.

Since I wasn’t willing to attack him with what I had, I already functionally was.

“Only a fool refuses to use every tool available to him,” said Dugan.

“A fool, or a man with honor,” I snapped. Muir Woods wasn’t that far from the false Queen’s knowe. Tybalt had to be there by now. He had to be explaining. Arden wouldn’t want to wait—she would want to rush out and rescue her brother as quickly as possible—but Madden would be cautioning her to move slowly, to consider her actions. I didn’t know how much longer I would need to stall. “Does iron make you feel important? Does it make you feel big? I don’t care how much rowan you put between yourself and that shit, it’s going to eat you alive. You’re playing with fire. Or enriched uranium, assuming you even know what that is.”

Dugan sneered. “You talk a good game for someone who’s staying out of range. Not everyone has that privilege.” He grabbed Nolan by the hair, pulling his head back and laying the iron knife across his neck.

Nolan cried out in shock and pain, a look of raw embarrassment washing across his face on the heels of the sound. He didn’t want to show how badly this was hurting him. I wanted to tell him I didn’t think less of him for this, that no one could stay silent in the presence of iron, but I didn’t dare. Anything I said to him, instead of to Dugan, could make things even worse.

“What do you want, Dugan?” I asked, taking a step forward. “Do you want me? I’ll come to you if you’ll let him go.”

“What, so that your little friends can sweep in here and rescue you? No deal, Daye. I’ve heard the stories of what you’ve been up to since the last time we met. I could stab you a hundred times and you’d still get up and walk away. You’re no hostage, especially not against your own good behavior.”