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“Ooh, smart,” Lyric praised. “Do you think she’ll actually fight you? That’s how it works, right? You call in the debt but she can defend herself?”
I nodded. “Striking at someone who can’t or won’t defend themselves is a little too cold-blooded for most fae, Queen and Consort excluded.”
“And after you kill her?” Draven asked, looking not at me but at the male beside me. “What then?”
“Then I’ll take my leave.”
“You’ll return to Embour?”
“I suppose … yes, I’ll return to Embour.” The large hand holding mine tightened even further.
Draven glanced at Casimir’s hand overtop mine. “What of the power vacuum you’ll be creating?”
“What of it?”
“Who will step in to rule? By removing Sersha, you leave only Malcolm.”
“Ah. Yes, well I thought I’d take care of him, too.”
Draven rested his chin on his fist. “Only him?”
The male was poking holes in my already flimsy plot. Really, I’d barely given thought to it while Malcolm was offering to free me. I assumed I’d wipe out the depraved fae and be on my way. If Draven was going to offer me sound advice, honesty was imperative.
“I was also thinking of Sersha’s court,” I disclosed.
Casimir withdrew his hand and angled his body towards mine. Angry waves of heat rolled off him. “You intend to walk into Ansley Keep and take on not only the Queen and her Consort, but the entire court, as well?”
“Well … just the truly corrupted ones. So maybe half?”
“There are over a hundred fae in Sersha’s court,” Casimir’s voice rose an octave. “Plus the soldiers who are loyal to Sersha. They’ll pounce on you the second you’ve eliminated her.”
“No. Malcolm assured me I could walk away.”
“What do you mean he assured you?”
Stupid, Raven!I rubbed my temples with my fingers. “I can’t speak of it. I have his silence as long as he has mine.”
“No,” Casimir pushed. “He might not have been able to flat out lie to you, but he’d feel no strong compulsion to keep you safe in the aftermath. You have no guarantee. Not unless you’d sealed it with a blood oath.”
My mouth tightened and Casimir cursed, running both hands through his short hair.
“Take a breath, Cas.”
Casimir glared at Draven, crossing his arms. The Shadow Lord seemed unmoved.
“A few things. First,” Draven lifted his index finger up, “if you kill Malcolm right after you kill Sersha, there will be no such thing as simply walking away from the scene. Anyone nearby will attempt to apprehend you. You understand this, yes?”
“Yes. Like I said, I don’t have an exact plan.”
Casimir harrumphed and I bit my tongue. Heat crawled up my neck then bled past my jaw and into my cheeks.
“Second,” Draven lifted his middle finger to join the other, “if you take out both leaders of the Faelands, there is no one to take over. Historically, in your land, when there has been no one in the bloodline to rise to the throne, what has happened?”
I grimaced. “They fight for it.”
“Who’s next in line for the throne?”
Damn demon. “My father is older than Sersha. Her claim is secondary to his. If she’s gone, it falls on him.”
