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The little spark of hope I cling to dies a stuttering death. The fae laughter that follows it chips away at the last of my resolve. It’s almost like they want to see me suffer, though I haven’t met a one of them before except Katiya.
“Excellent!” The biggest fae bellows in a grating voice like tumbling rocks. “Let them destroy one another, and we shall conquer the ashes.”
I might be sick right on their floor. They’re right. Sigurd already holds a grudge against the Court of the Forest. If he thinks they took me, he’ll be his impulsive, reckless self and light the kindling that’s been building between the courts. And the Court of the Forest needs little incentive to retaliate. From all I’ve heard, they’re just waiting for the right moment, and this could well be it.
Despite the dark humor of these Unseelie, one person isn’t laughing. Katiya’s brother rises from his throne, and the laughter dwindles. He does have a tail, just as pale as his hair. It flicks to one side of his legs. A wicked-looking scabbard hangs from his other hip.
I force myself to hold still and face him down rather than run or cower like the voice in my head is screaming at me to do. Or break apart like my heart is right now.
Sigurd could die. Moria. Hawke. Galen. Any of them.
And I’m just stuck here, a pawn in this game of courts. Worse, what if Sigurd thinks I left on purpose? Just snuck out in the night after all that we shared? I twist my hands behind my back, if only to hide their shaking.
“You bear the King of Air’s mark,” the pale-haired Unseelie says.
It’s not a question, but I give a short, jerking nod all the same.
“Yet my sister says you wished to be free of him?” His stare is so penetrating he may well be looking into my soul. “That he bound you against your will?”
When I don’t respond, he lifts one pale brow.
I swallow the thickness in my throat and blink away the tears burning to be free at the corners of my eyes. “He did. I did. But things…changed.” They changed more than I would have ever imagined. “I still want to go home,” I add, filling my voice with a desperate plea to pull at any heart-strings this male may have. “I care for my grandmother. She’s old and ill. She needs me. I cannot stay here.”
But I want to come back.I planned to. Ipromisedto. That won’t help me here though.
His impassive features give away nothing, but his gaze dips for the briefest moment.
“Just spill her blood and be done with it,” the bulky one grumbles.
“What!” I squeak. This time, I do step back, fear moving my body away from this monster before me.
The pale-haired man raises his hand toward me. A sign of peace? “You’re too important to kill,” he says quickly before turning to look back at the gathered fae. “And I don’t abide mistreatment of humans.”
Katiya hisses at the bulky fae, as if adding her own condemnation to her brother’s words.
The other fae grumble and go silent. I scowl at these brutes who think kidnapping me and using me as bait wasn’t mistreatment enough.
“You’re here for two purposes. One, you know. The other…” He pulls the sword from its scabbard.
I take another step back on instinct. Fae supposedly can’t lie, but maybe that doesn’t extend to the Unseelie. His actions sure don’t line up with his words.
“Do you know what this is?” he asks, holding the sword aloft so it catches the light.
“A sword,” I answer. A beautiful one at that, polished to a shine, its blade decorated with some kind of intricate designs I’m not close enough to make out. A musical hum seems to emanate from it, so soft it might be some trick of my sleep-deprived mind.
The corner of his lips twist up on one side. “Indeed. It’s quite ancient.” He twists it this way and that, admiring the blade. “Crafted by Áine herself, or so the legends say.”
The name pulls at my memories. An ancient fae queen?
“But it’s lost its power.” He lowers the blade.
“What does that have to do with me?” I ask.
“We found some ruins recently.” He narrows the space between us. “In them were ancient carvings, one about the sword. It’s believed the blood of a marked human can help revive it.”
My blood.
“Give me your hand.” He offers his.
