Chapter 6
“ Y ou’re lucky I’m able to receive you at court at all,” says Lisinder, looking down at us with a mixture of reprimand and curiosity. His bone crown shines in the faerie lights of the vast throne room. This time we aren’t subjected to a full audience of the Unseelie Court, but the lowest rows of the staggered seats are filled with faces I recognize—close relations and advisers of the king’s that I met when we were here last. “But fortunately, we were able to find the fae who made the moon orb used to intoxicate you, nephew. He confessed, and since that magic has been banned for many centuries, he has been dealt with. It has been enough to exonerate your actions…with most of the court.”
A surge of relief hits me at his words. That was the first obstacle I’d been worried about. There was a genuine possibility that the moment we arrived back here, Lisinder would be forced to put us on trial. Even that would be preferable to going back to face Evanthe—who wouldn’t bother with such trifles as a fair trial before dispensing her version of justice. But still, I’m just as happy to skip it.
Nevertheless, the incident on the mountain is still unsettling. It proved the enemies we have here in Unseelie are ruthless. I glance at Ruskin. He’s keeping his words to a minimum—smart, seeing as he can’t actually remember the incident in question, but a thought occurs to me. Kasgill didn’t seem to know what to expect from the moon orb—certainly the attack didn’t go the way he expected, seeing as he and his friends wound up dead at Ruskin’s hands. But what if that was the point? It seems I’m the only one who can ask the relevant questions, so I pipe up.
“Do you believe he was working alone, Your Majesty? I mean, aside from the three who actually committed the attack?”
Lisinder’s mouth twists downwards, confirming my theory. “No. He did not supply the orb to Kasgill Flintspark directly, nor to his accomplices. Unfortunately, he refused to say who, exactly, had employed him to create it.”
I look around at the fae in the room, wondering who among them are our enemies. We’re only trading one kind of danger for another.
“I thank you, Uncle, for addressing this issue, and receiving us again so graciously in your kingdom.” I watch Ruskin, impressed he’s doing such a good job of pretending like he’s ever had a conversation with Lisinder before.
Lisinder shifts in his seat. “I’d slow down, if I were you. You haven’t even told me why you’re here yet.”
“Partly for the same reason we were here before, my Lord,” I jump in. “We seek the advice of Maidar Cragfoot, after injuries sustained in battle.”
Lisinder looks to Destan, who is standing stiff as a poker, looking intensely out of place among all these rough Unseelie. He’s still wearing his sling.
“What is wrong with your arm, sir…?”
“Lord Destan Lionsvale, Your Majesty,” Destan says, offering a deep, sweeping bow which I notice makes a few of the Unseelie smirk. “It is an arrow wound, my Lord.”
Lisinder waves his hand. “My healers can fix that in a blink. No need to consult Cragfoot for something so trivial.”
“There were other injuries sustained in the fighting, Uncle,” Ruskin says. “More complex, magical ones.” He emphasizes the last few words, and I can see Lisinder picks up on his meaning: he doesn’t wish to discuss the details of these publicly.
“And exactly who have you been scrapping with, then? I hope I won’t have more members of my court turning up, saying you’ve been causing trouble,” he grunts.
Ruskin shakes his head and begins relating some of the information we’ve already fed him. “I’m afraid the curse upon the Seelie Kingdom has gotten worse, and we’ve now located its source: my mother, Queen Evanthe.”
The gathered Unseelie immediately begin muttering at this announcement.
Lisinder leans forward in his seat.
“Your mother? You’re sure of this?”
“Yes,” Ruskin says, glancing at me. “Evanthe told me herself when she tried to kill me.”
More chatter from the seats, and Lisinder’s brow knits in concern.
I decide to jump in to better fill in the gaps Ruskin might struggle to explain.
“As you know, the queen has not been well these past few centuries. But her situation was worse than the Unseelie Court might have suspected. The cold iron she was attacked with poisoned her, infected her blood, bringing her to the point of incapacity. I was brought to Faerie to heal her, given my unique abilities with metal.” I lick my lips, aware I’m about to reveal precisely how vulnerable we are. “However, when she was revived, it was clear she had been poisoned in her mind and heart too. She seeks not just to retake her place as ruler of the court, but to remove Ruskin all together, and has been visiting a terrible curse on the kingdom to aid her in that goal.”
This isn’t the whole truth, of course, because we’ve not touched on Evanthe’s ultimate goal: not just to remove Ruskin, but to punish the entire Seelie Kingdom. Explaining Evanthe is behind the curse is one thing—we told Lisinder about the blight on the court on our last visit, and I believe he’ll accept it at face value now. But claiming Evanthe wants to raze her own kingdom to the ground is a much stranger claim, one which might prompt Lisinder to demand concrete proof. He hasn’t seen how much Evanthe has changed, and without the evidence before him, it might be difficult to convince him she really has become as brutal as we’ve seen. The problem is, we don’t have the evidence. Ruskin has no memory of her confession to us at the founding stone, and my testimony wouldn’t carry much weight because Lisinder knows I can lie. We don’t make reliable witnesses.
“It was my mother who attacked me, and her followers—High Fae of the Seelie Court—who injured Lord Lionsvale,” Ruskin explains.
Lisinder sits back, seeming to digest this.
“I am sorry the Seelie Court has proven such a dangerous place for my kin,” he says gravely. “For my brother’s sake, I will grant you sanctuary in this court, Nephew.”
It’s not the warmest invitation, but once again, relief finds me. Lisinder could’ve refused us entry to his court completely. We earned it last time, but things have gotten more complicated since then, and the Unseelie king might’ve considered it too risky to offer us help when Evanthe wants us dead or captured. I notice, however, that he doesn’t offer up any of his forces to help us combat Evanthe. I guess that shelter will be the limit to what he’s willing to offer.
“And can I assume that offer extends to my companions?” asks Ruskin. “Seelie he may be, but Lord Lionsvale is a loyal friend of mine, and Eleanor Thorn is my naminai match.”
He says it so casually that for a moment I don’t register it, then I hear a laugh of disbelief rise up from the seated Unseelie, and my face starts to burn.
We never discussed telling them this.
“Your naminai match?” Lisinder says, staring at me with renewed interest. He strokes his beard and his face breaks out into a pointy-toothed grin. “Well, Nephew, you have been busy. Most fae wouldn’t have a chance to find their soulmate in the middle of everything else. And a human too. I thought there was something different about you,” he says, squinting at me.
“Indeed, it is unusual, but it seems that her magic has afforded her a true name,” Ruskin says. I try to communicate my confusion with my eyes, but he simply meets my look and slides his gaze back to Lisinder, forcing me to look at the king too.
“Well, I believe we should be addressing you as Lady Thorn from here out,” Lisinder says. “And of course, Lord Lionsvale and Lady Thorn will also be afforded the protection of this court.”
At these words I look over at Ruskin with renewed understanding. There’s definitely a logic to him revealing that we’re naminai . Firstly, he elevates me in Lisinder’s eyes, and in the eyes of the court. Though he didn’t exactly look down on me before, now he’s given me a title, and I suspect he will be inclined to take me more seriously. Secondly, it guarantees my safety as much as Ruskin’s. He could hardly offer shelter to the prince of the Seelie Court but not his naminai match. It would be spitting in Ruskin’s face. Announcing how important I am to Ruskin might put a target on my back with our enemies in the rest of the court, of course, but it’s not like we hid our relationship the last time we were here. If people want ways to get to Ruskin, I’m probably already on their list.
Aside from making sense, the announcement fills me with an unexpected warmth. This is the first time Ruskin has told anyone about us, and declaring it so publicly…there’s a power in that. I want the world to know that we belong to each other, I realize. He is mine and I am his, and it feels good to hear it out loud, even with the rift still between us. Now I think of it, part of me wonders if the old Ruskin would’ve ever have done such a thing. This Ruskin is guarded, but the old Ruskin was so used to keeping secrets you had to pry every personal detail from him. I couldn’t see him giving up the truth of our connection so easily, even when it was the prudent choice to make.
Lisinder rises from his throne and descends the dais. His face has quickly become solemn.
“But I’m afraid there are still other matters to be discussed.” He raises his hand and gestures to Pyromey, who strides towards a set of doors at the far end of the cavern, knocking on them hard. Guards open them, dragging a limp figure between them. Something horrible is about to happen, I can tell, and my stomach lurches at the sudden shift in the mood around the cavern.
I recognize the long blond hair of the captive before I see his face.
Hadeus.
He’s in a terrible state, a fact that only becomes clearer as they bring him forward and drop him to the stone floor in between us and King Lisinder. His clothes are dirty, his hair knotted and stained with blood, and when he lifts his head I see why. The tips of his ears have been shorn off and his face has been carved with four runes—one on his forehead, chin, and each cheek. The cuts don’t appear particularly deep, but they bled enough for the blood to run down his face and dry there, crusting his skin and shirt with a reddish-brown stain, the cuts themselves still fresh and glistening, not yet scabbed. He looks around at the room, his eyes alighting wildly on Lisinder, then Ruskin, Destan, and me.
I, too, stare at Destan in alarm, not understanding why Lisinder is presenting him to us like this. It occurs to me abruptly that Ruskin won’t even know who he is. Destan sees my look and steps forward before anyone else can speak.
“This is Lord Hadeus, my Lord, a member of the Seelie Court and one of the followers of Evanthe who was hunting us on the road.” He speaks to Lisinder, but keeps throwing glances at Ruskin, indicating to the prince that this information is as much for his benefit as anyone else’s.
“Then I take it you are the reason he was found trespassing on our territory and brought to me?” Lisinder asks. All trace of friendliness is gone. I see he means business now, and all my relief from before seems foolish. I shouldn’t have assumed the king of the Unseelie Court would give us everything we wanted so easily. But I’m still not sure what his intentions are here.
“I’m afraid the fae who found him punished him first and asked questions later,” he continues, not waiting for our answer as he indicates Hadeus’s injuries.
“What do the runes mean?” Destan asks. I’d been wondering the same.
“Come now, Lord Lionsvale. Someone obviously didn’t pay attention in their history lessons. They were in common use during the Great Divide.” Lisinder steps forward and taps a claw against Hadeus’s cheek, making him flinch. “This is the mark of an Unseelie prisoner. They’re meant to curse you to a life of dishonor, aside from the amount of dishonor already brought on by having your ears clipped, of course,” he says. I realize now the significance of the ears—they’ve taken a part of his faeness from him, condemning him to look more human—something that a proud Seelie like Hadeus would see as the ultimate disgrace.
“Please,” Hadeus gasps. His eyes are on Ruskin, but he doesn’t say any more, and Lisinder ignores him, continuing as if he hadn’t spoken.
“There’s a fair few High Fae in Seelie with these marks still, though many would have rather died than bear them. I imagine those who could live with the shame keep them hidden. Now, Lord Hadeus, I have some questions for you. My nephew and his friends say that High Queen Evanthe wants Ruskin dead. Is this true?”
“Y-yes,” Hadeus croaks. “He is a usurper, and she is the rightful ruler. When she awakened from her sleep he tried to keep her from the throne.”
“Interesting. And you feel she is the true queen, even when she’s willing to curse your court to get what she wants?” Lisinder asks.
Hadeus shakes his head, making his whole body move. “Not true. The iron curse…” He throws a hand up, pointing a dirt-encrusted fingernail towards me. “It’s her doing.”
“Eleanor was the only one who could actually stop the iron,” Destan objects.
The king extends his claws again, and this time slashes them across Hadeus’s shoulders. The Seelie lord arches back and screams, his eyes on Lisinder burning with pure hatred. In the cavern, sound echoes, so I have to listen to his shriek of agony over and over, reverberating in my ears.
“Tell us the truth, Lord Hadeus. Prince Ruskin has already confirmed the curse was the queen’s doing.”
Hadeus’s eyes widen for a moment, but his bigotry isn’t so easily rattled. The hate swiftly returns. “I have told you the truth I know,” he spits. “And whatever that filthy Unseelie brat tells you, he’ll have found a way to spin it in his favor.” His breath hitches with pain, but his eyes still blaze as he continues, taunting Lisinder. “You may be playing at king now, beast, but mark my words, one day Her Majesty Evanthe will bring you to heel. I hope she tears every horn from you animals’ heads and every fang from your mouths. I hope?—”
Lisinder’s claws flash again. As they connect with flesh, Hadeus’s cry resounds through the cavern.
“Is this really necessary?” I can’t help but blurt out. Even with Hadeus’s threats, what good is this doing? Does the king actually think he can change Hadeus’s mind, or is he just enjoying tormenting him?
Lisinder watches me carefully, seeming interested in my reaction. He turns to Ruskin.
“Tell me, Nephew, should I carry on? Or does this lord mean something to you?”
The two questions don’t seem to line up for me, and I try to make sense of Lisinder’s game here. No, not a game. The Unseelie don’t play those like the Seelie do, but this does feel like some kind of test. I decide to be bold like our hosts.
“Before Ruskin answers, my Lord, may I ask what the purpose of this is?”
Lisinder nods like he thinks my question is fair.
“You may be on poor terms with the Seelie queen, but two of you still have Seelie blood, and are members of a court full of High Fae who wish my own court ill. You’re asking me to trust that your loyalty to them won’t outweigh the gratitude you feel towards me and my own court. That is a risky gamble for me to take.”
So that’s the test: Watch one of your own be killed to prove that court loyalty isn’t as important as the kind we’ve found with our new Unseelie allies. The offer of sanctuary comes with a price. When I nod in understanding, Lisinder looks over to Ruskin once more, his claws still raised above Hadeus’s head.
“What should I do, Nephew?”
Ruskin takes a moment to answer, shifting his eyes from Lisinder’s claws to Hadeus’s disfigured face. The Seelie lord, stripped of his arrogance, begins to sob.
“Please,” he begs.
I see a flicker of something on Ruskin’s face, then it hardens.
“This man means nothing to me, and his death would benefit us. I would suggest executing him.”
My blood chills at such a cold assessment, even if every word is true. But when I watch Hadeus’s face, I don’t see anger or fear at Ruskin’s proclamation. Instead, there’s a strange…relief there, I think. He holds that expression as Lisinder walks around him, coming to stand in front of his kneeling form.
“Very well. Lord Hadeus?—”
“Swallowtail,” Destan supplies.
“Lord Hadeus Swallowtail. I execute you for the crime of trespassing in the Unseelie Kingdom and for conspiracy to murder my nephew, Prince Ruskin Dawnsong.”
Hadeus looks almost liberated, triumph crossing his features.
“May your entire court burn,” he snarls.
Then Lisinder slashes his claws across Hadeus’s throat. The blond fae hovers there for a moment, a stunned look on his features as crimson streams down his front, then he slumps to the ground.
I feel numb from the swift violence of it. This is the world of Faerie, and wherever I go, death seems to lurk. I had no love for Hadeus, but I will never take enjoyment in this.
Guards arrive to carry him out, lifting Hadeus so his blond hair falls and the shorn tips of his ears are exposed again. Hadeus always hated me, I could tell. He had a lot in common with his niece Galaphina, who saw humans as no more than animals to be toyed with as she pleased. Being given ears like mine wouldn’t have just been humiliating—it would’ve been devastating. It hits me then, what he meant when he pleaded with Ruskin, what was behind the unmistakable look of relief and triumph when Lisinder agreed to execute him.
He wasn’t begging to be spared. He was asking for death.
“Please,” he’s said. Please end this. Please allow me to die rather than live with this shame.
Lisinder said there were High Fae who’d rather die than bear the marks of their capture. I think about Hadeus being cursed to a life of disfigured, human-like ears and wearing the symbols of the Unseelie on his face. Compared to that, death had been welcome to him. His fear had been that Lisinder would keep him alive.
I think back now to Ruskin’s cold assessment—he’d known this too. When he’d asked for Hadeus’s execution, he was doing the merciful thing.
Lisinder beckons us out of the cavern as the court begins to disperse. We tuck into a much smaller corridor that seems to head in the general direction of our chambers from the last time we stayed here.
“I hope you understand why that was necessary,” Lisinder says, and I see now why he wanted to get the three of us alone.
“There are consequences for you in offering us shelter, given the tensions between the courts,” says Ruskin. “You needed to be seen doing your duty, remaining strong in the face of a potential threat.”
Lisinder makes a noise of agreement and I throw Ruskin an admiring look. There must be such huge gaps in his understanding, and yet he speaks as confidently as if he knew this place and people well. He’s been watching and observing, I think, and his sharp mind is picking up on what it needs to in order to keep his memory loss hidden and his position secure.
“Speaking of which, Uncle,” he goes on and I hold my breath, guessing what’s coming. “We, of course, receive your offer of sanctuary with gratitude, but my mother’s hold on the Seelie Court?—”
“Save your breath, Nephew, I know what you want to ask, and my answer has to be no.”
“You aren’t open to an alliance to stop Evanthe?”
“I am on your side, but I can’t get involved in Seelie power struggles. That’s a recipe for another war. My people may be brave and strong, but a new conflict between the courts would be devastating for all. I won’t be responsible for another Great Divide.”
He brings us to the hallway for our chambers, nodding to a servant who comes out to greet us, a female Low Fae with skin the color and pattern of purple agate.
“I’ll bid you goodnight now,” he says, the finality of his tone saying he won’t discuss the matter further.
The servant shows Destan into his room first.
“The healer will be on their way shortly to assist you with your arm, my Lord,” she says. Destan can’t get through the door fast enough, muttering something about clean clothes.
“And here, my Lord and Lady, is your chamber.”
I walk through the open door without thinking, only registering what she said when I see the single, large bed on one side of the room.
Oh.