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“Brittle Spear,” I grunted.

He didn’t even bother to look up from his wine. “A single night of passion, and you are so very familiar with me, Raven.”

His tone was bored, as if he had been waiting for me for ages. “Please do excuse me, Ard Tiarna Brittle Spear of Fómhar.”

He was, once again, wearing the Bandrui’s brother’s face. It irritated me. I didn’t want to see the same face that had seduced my little bug so easily. I wanted to see the cursed beast under it. The sharp, lopsided smile he gave me hinted at the serrated teeth his cursed form had.

“That’s better, Captain. Now. You have called me here after our beautiful little liaison. To what do I owe this additional blessing of your company? Though I do lament that my Pearl is not with you, is she?”

I frowned, barely restraining the growl of irritation. My Pearl? I let him fuck her for me once, and suddenly, she is his pearl? If I didn’t know what was coming for him, I would rip his twisted cock from his body and shove it down his throat to muffle the screams as I gorged on his agony.

“She is not. She rests in my chambers after our attentions drained her.”

I let every drop of my irritation and the image of his painful demise leak into my voice. I wanted him to know exactly who she belonged to even if I let him share her with me.

“Then, what business have we further, Raven? Will you finally tell me why you plied me with your golden whore?”

The muscle at the side of my jaw ticked painfully as I ground my teeth together. “The games we play are for the chambers, Brittle Spear. Outside of them, you will respect her as a lady of the court, or you will never see her again . . . or anyone else for that matter.”

His damned smirk twitched again. “So, you do care for her? A human? Tsk-tsk, my dear old friend. We both know how that ends. Very well, then. Even when I am not playing the dandy for her, I will respect our lady Pearl as you ask.”

“Your hospitality is appreciated, Ard Tiarna.” I tipped my head to him begrudgingly, even though I wanted to tear from him any disrespect he thought of letting grow root in his fool head.

He returned it, a truce silently called between us. “To business, then?” he asked, making a grand gesture for me to join him leaning against the potting table.

I obliged, drawing his attention away from the crouching guards who hid in the darkness outside of the other door opposite from which I had entered.

“Do the Abhartach still traffic in spiderlings?” I accepted his offer of his glass of wine but did not sip from it.

Brittle Spear wasn’t simply a random rabble rouser I had picked out of a hat.

The poison Sorrow had selected was incredibly rare, and outside of the Dúluachair court, there was only one other place to find it, the Fómhar court. And even they had a hard time distilling and perfecting it. Odharnait rewarded her followers in many ways, and one of them was her tomes of poisons gathered from every realm she had ever walked. Some of them couldn’t even exist in this world, magic too much of a jealous creature to allow it.

He cocked a russet brow at me. “You plied me with the best evening I’ve had since our dear Boar King rose to power for a spiderling? I knew you were a strange Fae, dear Raven, but that is strange even for you. Yes, to answer your question. We still tend the broods in the deep caves of our lands.”

We had kept the exact nature of how the King had been attacked a secret. Every single Fae unfortunate enough to witness it had been oath-sworn to secrecy and a few hostages, to ensure their silence, were resting in a special wing of the palace kept for the cursed.

I adjusted, making a show of trying not to be too uncomfortable about ensuring we were alone. I had learned from the best how to fake even the smallest of micro expressions and tells. Prince Sorrow had not trained as hard as he had under Senán himself for me to fuck this up.

“I’m not looking for a spiderling, Brittle Spear.” I dipped my words low for only his ears, even though my expression remained passive and hateful. There was no better lie than the truth. “The King is weakened. And I seek a poison to remove him from the throne completely. I cannot liberate her while he still lives and holds her true name in his grip.”

“So, it’s all true, then. The rumors of you two.” He clucked in the back of his throat when I did not answer and looked up to the dark glass ceiling of the greenhouse. “Tell me the truth, Raven. No more lies. Why?”

I wanted to reject the request, but what did it matter? He would be dead within a day.

“I love her.”

He snorted. “I said no more lies.”

“I am not lying.”

“You barely know her! She is just some sprite that skipped in on a Far Darrig ship with a sad story and a fiery temper. You cannot possibly love her enough to kill . . . him.”

I knew what he meant. Not enough to kill my lifelong friend, the man to whom I had sworn my allegiance and so many other titles that muddied the waters.

I watched him. I would not debase myself by repeating it. It was the truth. I did love her. And so much more. To say I loved her was like saying Magh Meall loved magic. Now that I knew her, knew she existed, I could not survive without her.

“Very well. Which?”