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Niklas lifted a brow. “I’ll want the details of that later, but do you hold ill will toward the children?”
“No,” I said without a pause. “Of course not.”
“I am not schooled on these isles, so perhaps I’m overstepping, but as I told you, I have an idea how to protect folk from possession of this creature. And I am here to work on healing it anyway.” Niklas looked back to the littles in the dark, then to me again. “If you can risk it, take them, keep them prisoners, but I might be able to heal them if they’ve been tainted, or protect them if they have not.”
Out of place, but a smile crept on my lips. “Forgive me, but the fearsome Falkyn lead was not one I expected to have a soft place for strange littles he’s never met.”
“Fearsome is the word you will always use for me, beguiling is even better, and I am soft-hearted for one soul alone—my wife.” He hesitated before going on. “Junie and I cannot have littles, perhaps this is the reason we take so many young ones into our guild. Call it a habit, but it sits rather sour in my mouth to turn away small ones.”
What I’d seen of Niklas Tjuv during my time in the East was made of crafty schemes and knives. Not vulnerability or tenderness for innocence beyond his guild.
It added another layer I rather liked about the Falkyn.
“Gorm.” I faced the blood lord. “What say you about holding them away from your folk until the Elixist can finish his potions?”
He considered the question, then sheathed his blade. “I will see it done if it is your word.”
I nodded. “Give the youngest children something to eat and a safe place to sleep. They do not leave whatever room they are given until we’re certain their blood is not tainted. Bind Magus and bring him to me, to an entire council. I wish to hear his tale before the sunrise.”
* * *
Magus satatop a wooden chair in the center of the great hall. A knitted throw was wrapped around his shoulders, and Dunker shuffled over, handing the serpent heir a steaming tin cup of clove tea.
A linen bandage covered a gash over his wrist. Niklas had taken samples of blood from every serpent child and went to compare them to Bo’s to see if Davorin’s corruption had overtaken any of the children.
Until we knew for certain, ropes bound Magus’s wrists and ankles. Blood fae warriors stood on either side, spears in hand. He kept casting wary glances in every direction. We’d surrounded him. I sat in front, Gorm on one side, Gunnar on the other. Eryka was next to her lover, then Rune, Stieg and Frey surrounded him at the back. Cuyler and Bjorn completed the circle.
Calista had gone with Junius to observe Niklas, and Stefan and Ash were standing watch over the room of Magus’s brothers and sisters.
“Lord Magus,” I said. “Tell us what has happened to your court and your mother and father.”
Magus nodded and brought the tin cup to his lap. “I know you left us with resentment. I . . . I cannot blame you after the role my mother and father played in all this. It might not mean much, but I believe they did not realize the dangers.”
I fought the urge to roll my eyes. Hawthorne and Yarrow were tricky fae who lived to unsettle others with their games. Yarrow had grinned when she’d opened the way for Davorin to find me, she’d told me she wanted to level a battlefield.
I bit my tongue and listened to Magus continue.
“Wars and battles in the isles, we all know, are mere skirmishes. A run for the crown at best. This . . . this is the end of our world.” He stared at the cup for a long pause. “Over a week ago, my father was summoned to the battle lord by our old captain, a forest fae we knew had been overtaken. My father went to make a deal with this old mimicker fae. He wanted to play his games.”
“Davorin does not play games,” I said with thick bitterness. “He fights, he kills, he ruins.”
Magus lifted both tethered hands and used his sleeve to wipe under his nose. “I know this. Now. The battle lord gained access to our court once my father lowered the gates. My daj told him how they’d brought . . . they’d brought you to him.
“The battle lord laughed, My Lady. He said if my father truly wished to show his devotion, then he would hand over my mother to be . . . one of his concubines, I guess you could call them.”
Magus spat on the floor, disgusted.
My palms grew clammy. What had Gunnar said about Bo? They’d attacked villages and sold off the daughters. Davorin was depraved. He’d been ruined by a woman, and it would not surprise me if he battered hundreds from his rage with me.
“You saw my parents, My Lady,” Magus went on. “My father would do nearly anything if he thought he’d get an upper hand in a jest or game. But not that. He wouldnevergive up my mother.”
“What happened?” Stieg asked.
Magus’s knee bounced, his brow furrowed. “We were taken. The Court of Serpents was overrun by his dark fae. So much blood.” The heir closed his eyes. “My father was bound, my mother . . . forced to submit to the bastard along with—gods—with the eldest of my sisters. She is still so damn young and innocent. Younger than me.”
Magus leaned over onto his elbows, fighting emotion. For the first time since he gawked at my body when we first met, he looked wholly like a terrified boy. Hawthorne and Yarrow were wretched, but their son—he loved his family and was broken.
After a long silence, Magus released a quivering breath. “My mother had my infant sister four days ago. Somehow, with the distraction, my father broke into where they were keeping us and told me to run with the littles.
