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“Well, isn’t this marvelous,” a singsong, dark, low lilt resounds in the cave.
It’s no exaggeration to say that every single lord either sighs, gasps, or shivers, sometimes all three.
Personally, I groan and lift my eyes to the high heavens, wondering what other bane fate has in store for me.
We all know that voice, and hearing it can’t possibly be a good thing—now, most of all.
The hated peacock of a trickster who has long roamed Ilvaris appears close to the doorway Caenan still guards, cocky, haughty, crafty, wicked.
Loch, the untamed fae, and potentially the most hated high fae in the history of Ilvaris, steps out of the shadows of the entrance, gracing us all with that smile that makes every single one of us want to punch his face.
He's the very worst of Ilvaris. We're all fond of bargains, but he collects them like trophies. We can all play with twisted words, but he's never said a single thing without laying a trap. Courtless, without any powerful name backing him, he should have been no one, but there's no court that doesn't owe him a favor, a fortune, a deal.
Whenever anyone find themselves in a hopeless situation, Loch appears with a solution, like a benevolent ruler. Only he demands the worst tithe he can possibly claim for his services. The vocal cords of a siren, the firstborn of a lord, the claws of a cat, the crafting skills of a hag.
He knows everyone's secrets, and there isn't a being alive aware of a single weakness. Even I don't know where he lives.
If he collected all he’s due, he'd bankrupt the entire world—and rule over an army of firstborn children.
But no, Loch doesn't tend to come back for his due. Not until the very worst moment.
They call him the Prince of Lies, to his face, and the Lord of Bastards behind his back. He's earned both. No one knows whose bastard he is, but there is no denying that he is of elder blood; magic rolls out of him like a lover, always ready to flirt with him.
Loch is an instrument of chaos. I should have guessed such a time would bring him here, where he can cause havoc.
I really don't want him here, but there's no controlling the likes of Loch. I can only hope his plan doesn't interfere with mine.
The lords of the courts are no true rivals. They could all gather as one and rise against me, I'd be the last one standing. The one exception is Valdred. I'd stab him first, to get it out of the way.
Darina herself isn't truly an opponent either. She can continue to be as challenging and self-destructive as she pleases; I can keep her alive if I set out to.
But Loch?I am not certain I'd walk away from a true confrontation between us. For all his smile, his laughs, his nonchalance, he's something else.
Something deadly.
His white-blond hair flies softly around his perfect, glowing face as he claps with a delighted chuckle. “Fee-fi-fo-fum. The hunt for royal blood has begun.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
NOT ENTIRELY HOPELESS
Darina
I’m an idiot. A pretty little idiot, as Ryther said.
I should have stayed in his house, rather than letting my stress and restlessness drive me outside to seek him out, demanding answers. What did I think I'd accomplish by coming here? It's not like I could weigh in. Caenan made that clear. What I saw of the conclave confirmed what he said.
No, I wanted to hear it all, so I pouted and I made him bring me, and then, I couldn't stay quiet.
Out of all the ways I could die, I wouldn't have thought it would be nosiness.
I saw it in their eyes; their desire to get to me, like starving wolves scenting prey. And I’m the one who put myself in that situation. Caenan warned me and I didn’t care.
What were you thinking?
But I know the answer to that. My entire life, I’ve been taught to speak up, to voice my disagreement, to be independent and stand up for what’s unfair. I’ve had debate classes. I know women were only given the right to vote through protests. Of course standing up for myself seemed to be the right thing to do. I was thinking that I'm a strong, independent, adult woman, and that I deserved a seat at the damn table. Women have marched for that, bled for that, died for that.
But it's not about me being a woman. It's about the fact that I am the weakest thing here, and that mice shouldn't play in lion dens.
