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He gave me a faint, condescending smile. “My king, I know this is all fairly new to you—”
“The Luad is fully aware of his duties and what goes on in his land,” Nua interrupted, voice harder than I’d ever heard it before. “Do not make the mistake of thinking he is merely a puppet.”
The fae paused. “Of course not,” he said smoothly. “I just meant that noble Folk have always had servers. Our station—”
“You don’t need servers,” I said. “You can learn how to cook and clean. It’s not that hard.”
Abar’s nostrils flared. Back still rigid, he said in a hard voice, “And how do you suggest we provide for ourselves, my king? We need food, just like any other Folk. Clothing. Necessities to live. If you will not at least provide some funds—”
“Get jobs.”
His eyes flashed with heated fury. Visibly tamping back his anger, he said, “I was under the impression that the open court was to provide opportunities for you to help your people, my king. Forgive me, but you are dismissing every one of my concerns—”
“They’re not real concerns.” I sat up straighter. “You just don’t want to do anything for yourselves. There’s nothing stopping you from getting jobs. Sorry if you’re annoyed that I’m not going to fund your lavish lifestyle like the Brid did, but you’re going to have to get over it at some point.”
The fae was breathing hard, his nostrils flaring with every exhale. “My king, you leave us destitute—”
“You were given food supplies when you were moved out of the palace, correct?” Lonan lounged back in his seat, chin resting on his palm in a picture of calm, but his eyes were hard and cold as he stared at Abar. “You were allowed to take all your clothes and belongings. If you and your friends are Folk of such noble stock, surely you can easily find work. Surely the seelie are all clamouring to employ you.”
Abar’s eyes were narrowed on Lonan, filled with such loathing that fury flared hot in my stomach. Before I could say anything, he looked back at me with a simpering smile.
“My king, forgive me for speaking out of turn, but is it truly wise to have the unseelie prince here, privy to the issues the seelie Folk face?”
I went stiff. “What are you insinuating?”
“Your subjects might come to you with matters that could be seen as weaknesses in your land. Your court,” he said smoothly. “Surely you see that I only speak in your best interests, my king.”
My hands clenched into fists on the armrests of the throne, and he noticed. His throat bobbed as he took a tiny step back.
“I told you from the beginning that the way to make me angry would be to disrespect him,” I said through clenched teeth. “Watch your mouth.”
“I have no loyalty to the Carlin,” Lonan said flatly. I glanced over at him to see his cold mask still in place as he stared back at the fae with hard eyes. “My loyalty is to King Ash.”
“Highly unusual,” Abar drawled, his lip curling in a sneer. “I do wonder how the unseelie queen feels about that.”
“It’s none of your fucking business,” I exploded, hands clenching on the armrests of my throne as I leaned forward. “Now if you don’t have any real problems, you’re wasting my time. If you don’t want to get a job, learn to grow your own fucking food. Forage and hunt.” I sat back. “We’re done here.”
Abar’s breaths trembled from his nose in forceful exhalations. He eyed me in silence for a moment, gaze drifting to the crown on my head.
“Not so different from your mother as we first thought, it seems.” He gave a mocking bow and turned to leave.
Rage, hot and overwhelming, flared in my chest. I could feel my eyes flashing with fury, my teeth sharpening in my mouth as I started to rise from my throne.
Nua’s long, spindly fingers gripped my shoulder, gently urging me back down. “Calm, Ash. He’s trying to get under your skin. You’re not like her. You know that.”
“He thinks you’re young and easily manipulated,” Lonan said, dark eyes still tracking the fae as he swept out of the throne room. “Quick to anger. Volatile. Don’t let him be right.”
My gut churned with unease as I sat back, twisting the hem of my shirt in my fingers. I was young and easily angered. I was pretty sure I was the youngest seelie king there’d ever been.
And weren’t all seelie hot-headed? That was what Ogma had told me. That the seelie inherited the First God’s fierce, heated anger.
But Nua wasn’t hot-headed. Neither was Jora.
Maybe I was more like her than I’d thought. The Brid.
The thought made me feel sick.
Chapter Two
