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Because I didn’t betray her.
Yup.
Message received.
“Now,” she goes on to say, oblivious to how I just about pissed myself, “what interests me more is that he was only after a hair. He couldn’t do much with that.”
Oh? Did I forget to mention the rest?
Whoops.
“It wasn’t just a hair. That was only the third thing he made me try and get for this buyer person.”
Morgan’s smile freezes on her face. Uh oh. “What else was there?”
Mental note: do not piss off the Winter Queen. “Um. Well, first there was a plum. Let me tell you, that sucked. Then there was a feather. Raven’s feather. Yeah. That one was worse. And, then, of course, the hair.”
She nods. She doesn’t quite do that weird flashy thing again, but I notice that snow is whirling around her feet. I’m pretty sure that’s not a good sign.
“I see. Well, that clears things up a little. The plum? When Melisandre was still a little girl, when she still accepted that she was Unseelie, she planted plum trees in the Shadow Realm. She always had a way with a garden. Of course, when she tricked Faerie into believing she was Seelie so that she could seduce Oberon, she murdered all of her plum trees, growing apples in the Summerlands instead. Still Cursed, of course, but she didn’t want the plums to tie her to the Shadow Realm. They’re stubborn, though, and a few survive.
“The feather… that’s a little more obvious. Mab has three descendants. Me. My cousin. And Branwen.”
“That’s the raven,” I interrupt. “I remember. When we were traveling together, you told me the raven was Branwen.”
“I did,” Morgan allows. “But she wasn’t always a raven. She used to be my sister.”
Riley lets out a sharp sound. Not surprised. Sisters are kind of a touchy subject with her. “What happened to your sister?”
“Melisandre was second in line to be queen to the Winter Court,” Morgan explains. “I was first. Branwen third. When it was my time to lead, Melisandre wanted my crown. But, instead of coming after me, she went for Branwen. She couldn’t kill one of our line, but she used magic to transform my sister into a raven and promised her to the Wild Hunt who could kill her. If I let her be queen, then she called off the Hunt—and she did. But she never turned Branwen back. The threat was obvious. If I rebelled against Melisandre, Branwen was dead. I sacrificed my Court for my sister. Two hundred years later, I’d do it again.”
“God, I hate her,” explodes Riley. She clenches her fists, straining her leather gloves as she tries to get control of herself. “Not your sister. I don’t mean her. But the Fae Queen… she was fucking awful. I’m so glad she’s dead.”
“Riley,” Nine says soothingly before Morgan cuts him off with a gesture.
“Fair enough. So am I. And that’s thanks to you, Shadow.”
Nine goes absolutely still. “You know who she is.”
“So surprised. I knew who you were. Elle’s Seelie, too. Did you really expect to hide the Shadow under my very nose?” Morgan laughs. “Though I wish you wouldn’t have. Obviously, she means me no harm, and my shadow barrier loves her spirit. Her magic. But I would’ve liked to have been able to thank her sooner.” Morgan bows her head in Riley’s direction. “I stayed away from Melisandre because I knew the Shadow Prophecy. I couldn’t end her. Only you… and, well, Oberon, too… could end her. So thank you. My sister might still be a raven, but she doesn’t have to fear Melisandre anymore.”
I always thought Morgan was more like a human than an Unseelie. That? That proves it. To thank a human? Even a halfling? Whoa. She must really mean it.
Riley looks a little uncomfortable. “No problem.”
“Is that all you have to say, Shadow?”
“Yeah. When it comes to a Faerie ruler thinking they owe me something, it’s better to just let it go.”
Morgan nods. “Very well. Elle? I only have one question.”
Only one? If I was Morgan, I’d have a hundred. Shit. From where I’m sitting, I have way more than that. Then again, I’m not a fae who’s been dealing with a treacherous cousin for more than two centuries. To survive that long, Morgan’s gotta be freaking clever.
Even if she did think that me dying my hair was like alchemy.
“What’s that?”
“You said that you traded Jim’s memory for the gnome’s. If someone is trying to get items of power belonging to the last of Mab’s line, I’d like to know who it is.”
