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I sigh. Right, because fae love a good party. A ball for the contestants and a small selection of the elite now, and a rancorous festival for the rest of the people in the capital at the end. According to Moria, everyone looks forward to celebrating the winner of the games with food, drink, dancing, and all sorts of festivities. They hold it out in the valley. Mark had pointed out the preparations already in progress when we visited the farm again yesterday.
Secretly, I’d hoped to run into the Unseelie woman again to ask her what she wants of me, and selfishly, if she had anything to protect me against poisons. But though I’d found a few moments to slip away and linger in shadowy places, she’d never appeared.
“Hello? Wren?” Moria waves a hand in front of my face.
“Sorry, just trying to think how I’m going to keep all this straight.” I gesture to the table.
“Uh huh. Well, I think he tries not to think about you just as much as you try to pretend you’re not thinking about him.”
Warmth rises to my cheeks. “I wasn’t—”
She smirks. “You humans and your lies.”
“Really, I wasn’t.” This time.Though admitting who I had been thinking about would open up a whole can of worms I can’t begin to fathom.
“I know he can be impulsive. Foolish at times. But you’ve worked more change on him in a few days than I’ve accomplished in decades.”
“W-what do you mean?”
“Sending an offering of goodwill to the Court of the Forest.” She picks up a cluster of leaves, twirling them between her fingers.
“He did?” An apology, if not the words.
“Mmhmm. And he’s paying more attention to the Unseelie threat, posting more sentries so that the rest of us aren’t stretched so thin. Even taking more command. Why do you think I can afford to be here?”
I swallow and shake my head in wonder.
“Perhaps you’ll give him another chance? Even if you do leave us soon, do it on good terms.”
“Yes.” Of course. How could I not? “I’ll try.”
“Good.” She beams as if everything is settled and rosy in the world. “Now, let’s talk about these poisons.” Shining teeth glimmer in her vicious smile, though not quite as much as the ferocious twinkle in her eyes. “There are a few I’mquitefamiliar with.”
Moria teaches me about poisons until my head throbs and the pages blur before my eyes. Several of the things she took her time detailing—the right dosages to kill a fae versus incapacitate them, how to apply it to a blade for best effect, how long the poison can linger on the tip of an arrow—probably aren’t what the competition organizers have in mind, but after the last terror of a game, who knows. There’s no dissuading her either. Once Moria starts talking about weapons and warfare, her whole demeanor changes. Focused, lethal, and unabashedly giddy.
She does love to talk about her knives. In fact, I’d say its second only to using them to carve out the beating heart of her enemies.
“You haven’t heard a word I’ve been saying.” Moria lays on the sofa across from me, her legs over the arm rest while she tosses one of her little knives into the air then catches it again. It set my teeth on edge until I focused on the table again while she talked, ignoring the casual danger she seems to enjoy playing with.
“I’m trying.” I rub at my temples. “It’s just…a lot.”
We’d briefly stopped for lunch, but I’d long since hit a wall. I never was the type that could stay up all night cramming for an exam. After a few hours, my brain would just lie down and quit. Stubborn mule of a thing. It needs a decent break before it gets back up, and all my prodding at it hasn’t helped it rest. Not to mention that her stories about the effects of one poison were so graphic I nearly lost my lunch.
“Fine, a break then.” She flicks the knife across the room where it lodges in the wooden frame of a portrait. A number of other notches mar the wood. Moria jumps to her feet in one graceful motion that speaks of strength and agility. If I tried it, I’d likely face plant onto the coffee table and probably poison myself in the process too. “I want to show you this dress. It might be perfect for you.”
I push to my feet with a sigh. Like I could ever pull off an outfit as well as Moria.
“What do you think?”
The dress she holds up is stunning—if one has the body of a runway model. Navy blue and sparkly, it shows off more than it covers, despite trailing down to her ankles. The deep V would need a whole roll of tape to stay in place, and the slits up the side would make most underwear impossible.
“It’s…” My brows pinch as I search for the right word.
“For me, not you.” She winks.
“Oh.” Thank the Lord. “Well, in that case, it’s perfect.”
She trails her hand down the shimmering fabric. “I think so too. It’s so nice to have another woman’s opinion though. Hawke and Mark aren’t the best judges of women’s fashion.”
