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Thump thump, the heart went, quickening ever so slightly.Thump thump. Thump thump.
But the Mother only sat and smiled at me, ignoring her son entirely – that flawless, icy smile, an expression dripping with poison and condescension.
‘Emelin,’ she purred, and it was then that I knew for certain the little girl’s mind had not been her own – because the High Lady of all fae pronounced my name in the exact same way, three unhurried syllables, balancing each of them on the tip of her tongue before setting them free. ‘Our little dove. What a joy toseeyou again, after all this time.’
So she was seeing, then. I wiped my clammy palms on my shimmering shirt, forcing myself to return her smile despite my racing heart and weak knees, and managed to get out an almost natural, ‘The pleasure is mutual, of course.’
She threw her head back and laughed.
I cautiously took two steps forward, Alyra hovering on one side of me, Creon following like a quiet shadow on the other, Feather a reassuring weight on my shoulder. The Mother didn’t seem in the least concerned as she tittered and turned back to me, wiping some imaginary tears with her glittering sleeve. ‘Weknewyou wouldn’t bore us.’
As if this was still nothing but shallow entertainment – her lover dead, her city under attack, and boredom the worst of her troubles. I didn’t speak, waiting. If I just refused to play along, sooner or later she’d have to reveal her game … and as far as my nerves were concerned, sooner would be better.
‘But in all seriousness, Emelin,’ she added lightly, as if she’d read my mind – leaning forward in her monstrous seat, pressing her fingertips together in elegant eagerness. Creon still didn’t receive a single glance. ‘We have some things to talk about, don’t we? Unbound magic! Godsworn powers! You’ve been very busy without us, little dove.’
Through the echoes of that booming heartbeat, I thought I heard a choked moan emerge from one of the crouching humans around her throne. But none of them moved, and their faces remained hidden behind their white hoods and hunched-up knees – had it been nothing but my imagination, then?
Gods knew what she might be doing to them. I wasn’t sure ifIwanted to know.
There were so many things I’d imagined I would tell her when we finally met again. So many accusations I’d thought I would throw at her feet before unleashing my magic against her and praying I’d survive … Agenor’s memories. Tared’s family. Creon – always, most of all, Creon.How could you? I’d have shouted at her.How did you ever believe any of this could be justified?
And yet, now that the moment was here …
I no longer wanted to shout.
I just wanted her to bleed.
‘You do realise,’ I said, my mouth dry, my voice hoarse, ‘that I didn’t come here to exchange pleasantries with you, don’t you?’
She smiled at me as if I was still that half-witted child I’d been at the Crimson Court – a look that made the colours itch beneath my fingers. ‘Oh, little dove, we know. But you’re missing someinformation, of course, and we’re rather certain that once you’re fully informed, you’ll no longer be nearly so inclined to hurt us.’
There was something too meaningful about the way she spoke the words – something unnervingly … smug?
Fuck. I’d have preferred a direct attack, deadly as it may have been; at least in that case, I’d have had something to fight against.
‘I think you may be overestimating your own likeability,’ I managed.
She burst out laughing again. Along the walls, the lines of gem-eyed humans and fae forced out spurts of laughter with her – grating, mechanical chuckles rising hollowly from every corner of the hall.
It took all I had to keep breathing calmly, evenly, as the unbearable sound slowly died away. On the edge of my sight, Alyra fluttered sideways, landing on the gallery balustrade and continuing to glare at the throne from that spot.
‘Hilarious,’ the Mother cooed, white wings flaring behind her shoulders as she curled up more comfortably in her pillows – a gesture that would have looked cosy on anyone else but managed to look like a murder threat with her smile to set the tone. ‘Likeability has little to do with it, Emelin. We’re talking about what it would cost you to kill us, in the unlikely event you could manage in the first place.’
Even that little jab came out so sweetly, like a well-meaning aunt speaking to her favourite niece. I tilted my head at her, wondering if I wouldn’t be better off drawing Feather and charging at her before she could finish her monologue …
But no doubt she’d prepared for that. And as long as she kept talking, I stood a chance of learning what her preparations had looked like.
‘And I suppose,’ I said, aiming for unimpressed mockery and landing somewhere around breathless defiance, ‘you now want me to ask what in hell you’re talking about?’
‘That would have been appreciated, but we’ll gladly volunteer the information.’ She looked almostgiddy, in a way that made my stomach clench; around us, the rhythmic thump-thumping intensified, echoing relentlessly through the room. ‘A lovely piece of blood magic, if we may say so ourselves. Do you hear that pulse, little dove? That’s the sound of our own heart linked to those of our little guests down here. Which means, if we need to spell it out for you, thatifyou were to accidentally succeed in your rather ambitious intentions …’
Linked.
Oh, Zera help me.
Smirking expectantly, the Mother was clearly waiting for me to finish the sentence … but for one moment I didn’t care about resisting her dramatic orchestrations. ‘You’re saying I’d end their lives, too, if you were to die?’
The cruel quirk of her lips was all the confirmation anyone could need. ‘And you wouldn’t want that, would you, Emelin?’
