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“Who?” I demanded.
The prince’s smile turned feral, slow and dangerous, and a shiver of anticipation skittered over me. He crumpled the paper in his fist, looking down at me with an almost manic gleam in his eyes. “We need to pay another visit to the lord and lady.”
35
LONNIE
THE CUTTHROAT DISTRICT, INBETWIXT
We blew back into the home of the Lord and Lady of Inbetwixt with no warning.
The house was silent when we appeared, and Scion was like a whirlwind of shadowed rage, storming down corridors and into empty rooms in search of someone to unleash his anger on.
I, mercifully, did not vomit upon traveling through the shadows and found myself able to keep up with him as long as I jogged. I barely paid a lick of attention to where we were going until we burst into a chamber on the second floor and several lights flared on.
“By the damned Source, who—my lord!” The Lord of Inbetwixt’s yells went from enraged to confused to frightened so fast it was almost comical.
I shielded my eyes from the sudden light as I skidded into the room and saw that we’d clearly burst in on Lord Bard and Lady Acacia in bed. It was a large, grand primary bedroom, with a rumpled four-poster bed and two very confused-looking Fae, rising and reaching for dressing gowns.
Scion marched inside, ignoring any semblance of propriety. He grabbed the lord by the collar of his off-white nightshirt and lifted him clean off the bed. “Do you realize you continue to hold this position only because I allow it, Bard?”
“Ye-yes, my lord,” the other male stammered.
“Then knowing that, and that I am already not particularly fond of you, why the fuck would you flaunt your feeble attempts at rebellion in my face?”
“I—I what? No!”
Scion threw Lord Bard down on the bed again, and he bounced off, sliding sadly to the floor. I gaped, wondering why he did not bother to fight back. Surely he must have some magic?
But then, perhaps this was how it was for the Everlasts overall. They’d ruled this long because even among their own kind, there was no competition.
Strangely, seeing this High Fae lord reduced to a blubbering mess made me feel much better about my own attempts at survival. I hadn’t done all that terribly for a human if this was the standard set by the High Fae.
Scion reached into his pocket and whipped out the papers that Cross and Siobhan had retrieved from the Side Saddle. He pointed sharply at it, jabbing his finger so hard I was sure the lord could not make out an inch of the parchment. “Is this not your name?”
“Yes, lord.”
“Then, were you not meeting with a rebel associate two nights ago? Perhaps to discuss the sunken ship you seemed so overly concerned with when last we spoke.”
I glanced sideways at Scion, willing everything to fall into place for me as it evidently had for him. My heartbeat sped up. “What was on the ship?”
“Gancanagh’s Dust,” he spat to the room at large. “Cross told me. That’s why they sunk the ship, which I’m sure you knew.”
The lord and lady glanced at each other. Lady Acacia stepped forward, and despite her frail appearance—made worse by her night clothes—her voice did not shake as it did the other day. “Of course we know. We have been more than clear in every communication with the capital that the guilds are out of control, yet we have received no aid to stop them. Clearly, you, or whoever is holding this grudge within your house, is looking to squeeze us until we beg to leave the city of our own accord and can be replaced with a more sympathetic ruling family.”
“No amount of bitterness justifies the production of that poison,” Scion barked back at her. “What are you even planning to do with it?”
Lady Acacia laughed. “Not us. We don’t care—it’s the pleasure guild making it, and now it seems Blacktongue has found yet another stream of revenue by selling her excess to the highest bidder. I suppose that’s the rebellion, now.” She waved a hand as if to say she didn’t care. “I only know that our standard trading ships became the means of delivery. What could we say? We can’t very well shut down trade altogether, can we? We’re responsible for feeding an entire city, just as you are supposed to be responsible for assisting us.”
I glanced between her and Scion, unsure who was right here—or if perhaps it was a bit of both. My head spun a bit. This felt like one of those problems of royalty we’d discussed in the market square—where there was no good answer, and no matter what happened, someone would be hurt.
Perhaps many someones.
“Why would you meet with the rebellion, though?” I asked bluntly. “If you both have no desire to get involved further.”
“I didn’t,” Lord Bard said quickly, his entire body still trembling. “I swear it.”
Scion reeled back. That had evidently startled him, and he looked from the paper to Lord Bard, to me, and back again. Finally, he said to the lord, “This is your name, though?”
