Chapter 14 #2
And on either side of us were dozens of fae.
Some were tall and lithe with gleaming skin—green, like Posey; purest black, like my escort; stark white, shimmering silver, bright bronze.
Others were short and squat, their skin gnarled as if carved from trees.
Some were very small, hardly more than orbs of light; others towered, their spangled heads—glittering with dozens of heavy jewels and draped chains—nearly reaching the trees overhead.
They sprawled on couches in glittering finery and dined at tables laden with elaborate dishes in outrageous colors—bright turquoise, vivid pink, every shade of purple imaginable.
Several small orchestras were scattered throughout the room, playing several different rollicking tunes.
It was a cacophony of melodies, but the fae didn’t seem to mind.
They danced with unbridled glee, toasted with goblets full of steaming liquor, played elaborate card games with tokens that looked suspiciously like human teeth.
I’d read every book about the fae in Rosewarren’s libraries.
I knew that they were descendants of twins birthed by Kerezen and fathered by Caiathos.
They could craft glamours, they had an affinity for natural magic, and they were gifted with strength and long lives.
I had been to fae courts before, and Posey had also briefed us all on what we might see.
But nothing could have prepared me for this.
At the end of the long hall stood three wide, arcing steps carpeted in velvet and moss. They led to a throne of polished bone and glittering onyx that was bolted to the floor by a tangle of flowering tree roots.
And on the throne, draped in silks and furs, sat a fae with gleaming skin the color of sandstone. On her head, atop a nest of coiled loam-dark hair, sat a slender silver crown. Her eyes were as black as the throne upon which she sat, and they narrowed as we approached.
The sight of her nearly rendered me speechless, but I managed to kneel before her on the cold, hard floor and heard the others do the same behind me.
“Lady Ifanna,” I began, remembering the greeting Posey had taught us. “Queen of the Veil. Jewel of the Court of Shadows. Your city is a marvel, your court a splendor. We come before you with gifts and request the honor of an audience.”
Lady Ifanna smiled, baring her pointed teeth. She crossed one long leg over the other, her bare ankles glittering with elaborate chains. She took a sip from the chalice in her right hand.
“But you have not seen my city,” she said smoothly. “How do you know it is a marvel?”
“I have heard tales told across the land by your many admirers, as well as testimony from our friend Posey of the Frinthians.”
Lady Ifanna’s gaze slid past me. “Yes, I see her there, bowing so prettily. My little cousin. How good of you to bring your friends to me.”
“And gifts,” Posey added, “if your guards will allow us to open our bags—”
“I will not, and I care nothing for your gifts. None are as interesting as you.” Lady Ifanna set down her chalice and glided down the steps, the folds of her gauzy silver gown cascading over her body like a waterfall.
“What an interesting group you are,” she murmured, walking slowly among us.
“I see you, of course, demon. I suppose we are cousins too—you the descendant of Jaetris and Zelphenia, me of Kerezen and Caiathos.”
Talan inclined his head. “Indeed. Well met, cousin.”
“And the rest of you?” Ifanna returned to her dais and stood on the bottom step. Her gaze flicked to me. “You. Tell me, what powers exist among you?”
“My name is Mara, and I am a sentinel, Your Majesty. And my sisters—”
“I know that one,” came a new voice.
I turned to see another fae leaving the revels to join us. His skin gleamed a burnished copper, and his hair trailed behind him in a froth of white, like a ribbon of sea-foam. The silver chains adorning his ears sparkled merrily in the candlelight.
Grinning, he raised one jewel-encrusted arm to point at Gareth. “Him. I know him.”
Gareth turned ashen, every muscle in his body pulling taut.
“Luthaes,” he whispered. There was real fear in his voice, and the sound slicked my bones with dread.
Gareth’s reaction could mean only one thing: Luthaes had been in Mhorghast during Gareth’s imprisonment.
I glanced at Posey, a question in my eyes—Do you know him?
—but her expression was one of utter confusion.
When our eyes met, she shook her head at me ever so slightly.
“And him. And her.” The fae, Luthaes, pointed to Ryder, then to Farrin.
I didn’t like his turquoise eyes; they were too bright, too cold.
“They stole my prize from me. A wilder woman. Very pretty. Same coloring as you.” He considered Ryder, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Are you her brother? How touching.”
Ryder’s hand twitched as if he wanted to reach for Farrin. But he stayed right where he was, his jaw working.
“They stole from you?” Lady Ifanna regarded us with fresh amusement. “Luthaes, I’m disappointed. They’re only human.”
“Yes, but that one has a voice like nothing I’ve ever heard,” said Luthaes, nodding at Farrin. “She doesn’t look like much, but don’t let that fool you.”
Farrin’s hands were in fists at her sides, her lips pressed together hard.
“And him.” Luthaes pointed once more at Gareth with a little chuckle. He drawled his words, very clearly drunk. “He was one of his favorites. So much mind to grab on to.”
Gareth recoiled as if Luthaes had struck him.
Seeing the bleak look on his face made me boil, and I looked at Lady Ifanna with a hot-footed panic skittering up my spine.
A fae who’d had at least some power in Mhorghast was here in the Veiled Court, and given the careless way he had approached the throne, he was no doubt favored by the queen.
He was one of his favorites.
His favorites.
Kilraith.
We had said as much in the Warden’s office, Gareth and I, discussing the possibility of Lady Ifanna’s great prize being one of the ytheliad anchors.
Either Lady Ifanna stole it from him…
Or she is an ally of Kilraith.
Ifanna must have seen the realization dawning on my face, for her grin turned feral.
“You do have one of Kilraith’s anchors,” I said, my mouth dry and my blood roaring. “And you didn’t steal it from Mhorghast. Kilraith gave it to you.”
“For safekeeping,” Ifanna replied, snapping her fingers.
One of the guards flanking her throne brought her the discarded chalice.
She took a long, slow sip from it, her eyes never leaving mine.
“What a shame. The next time the Order decides to ally with a fae, perhaps you should choose one who isn’t a traitor and can actually bring you reliable intelligence. ”
“You are the traitor!” Posey cried, lurching hard against her escort’s grip. “That creature endangers both worlds. We must unite against him!”
Her escort released her just long enough to strike her hard across the face. Her knees buckled, and when she looked up, green blood stained her lips.
Beyond her, the entire hall had gone silent. Hundreds of eyes watched us. Even the candles’ flames seemed to still.
Ifanna regarded Posey with contempt. “Creature? An ugly word for a magnificent being. But I should’ve expected nothing less from a Frinthian.
He Who Is All was right to destroy your kind.
He must have sniffed out the deception brewing in your veins and knew the only way to rid us of it was extermination.
Which makes you a novelty, Posey. The only Frinthian left alive.
What a trophy you are. I think I shall keep you. ”
Posey made a choking sound and staggered as if her escort had kicked her in the gut. Stone-faced, his skin white as the moon, he held her up, not letting her fall even as she howled out her grief. Her screams echoed eerily throughout the cold hall.
“Enough of this,” Ryder growled. He was practically vibrating with fury. “You knew we were coming, and now we’re here. What do you want with us?”
Before she could answer, Gareth, held fast in the grip of his captor, took a small step forward. “If Your Majesty will permit me,” he said, his voice strong and clear, “I would like to propose an accord.”
A wave of excited whispers hissed through the hall. Lady Ifanna stared at Gareth with a new, eager light in her eyes.
“An accord?” Her voice slithered. “The last resort of the desperate prisoner. Do tell.”
Stunned, furious, I watched her slink toward Gareth.
The lanterns all around us silvered the lenses of his glasses.
He was terribly pale, his brow slick with sweat.
I could have killed him. An accord with a fae was no small thing.
Even uttering the word was like setting a paper ablaze. Once done, it could not be undone.
“You possess something we want,” Gareth said. “The key that serves as one of Kilraith’s anchors of the ytheliad. And you possess something Kilraith wants: us. Am I correct in what I say?”
I listened with my heart in my throat but didn’t dare say anything to stop him. It was a bold gamble to name the key outright. But fae appreciated boldness, and maybe that would be enough to get information out of Ifanna.
After a moment, the fae queen answered, “You are correct.” Her black eyes glittered as she beheld Gareth. “And why is it that Kilraith wants you?”
A small chill shivered across my nape. So Ifanna did have an anchor, and it was indeed the key. Gareth’s gamble had paid off.
Gareth smiled. “You mean he hasn’t told you about us? That’s odd. I assumed he had taken you into his confidence.”
“And you assume correctly,” Ifanna snapped. Her hair streamed behind her as if roused by a static charge. “I am one of his favored. I offered my loyalty and my soldiers in exchange for a place at his side in the new world.”
“Of course,” Gareth said. “My apologies.”
I could hardly breathe. Gareth was playing a dangerous game. Toying with a fae’s pride was like walking along a cliff’s edge with your eyes closed, trusting that you wouldn’t take a false step.
“Tell me who you are, then,” Ifanna said, “and why Kilraith would want you.”
Luthaes huffed out an irritated breath. “Your Majesty, you are allowing this human to impair your judgment—”
“Be quiet, Luthaes, or I will cut out your tongue.” Ifanna didn’t take her eyes off Gareth. “Well?”
“It’s the month of your winter games, is it not?”
That caught her by surprise. “And how does a human such as you know about our games?”
He smiled, ignoring the question. “Here, then, are the terms I propose: You begin your games here, tonight, with a hunt. My friends and I will participate as hunters, and you will allow us to use, unimpeded, whatever power and weapons we possess. If we win, you will give us the key Kilraith entrusted to you and allow us to safely leave Gothyn. If we lose, I will tell you who we are and why Kilraith wants us, and let you bring us straight to him.” He flashed her one of his dazzling smiles.
“I assure you that would win you his favor beyond all others.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Fae games were brutal, not meant for humans, and their hunts were the most brutal of all.
Violent visions swarmed my mind: my sisters impaled on fae spears, my Roses reduced to bloody shreds by fae hounds.
We should never have come here, I thought wildly.
I should never have brought them to such a place.
“And what do winning and losing mean in this game of yours?” Ifanna asked softly. The hall was so deadly quiet that her voice resonated like thunder. “The terms must be clear.”
Careful, Gareth. My jaw ached with tension.
“Winning means reaching the target first and claiming it,” Gareth replied. “Losing means failing to do so, as is customary for your hunts. And,” he added, “there are twelve of us, so you must utilize only twelve of your kind. An even match.”
Ifanna’s lip curled. She had obviously been hoping he would forget this crucial detail, but now, by the magic of the accord, she was bound by it.
“And what will this target be?” she crooned.
My mind raced. I had to speak, and speak now, before any of the fae named a target that would put us at a disadvantage.
Then an idea formed, and a carefully hidden part of me—knotted and cowering, worn thin from exhaustion—thrilled at the sheer danger of it, at how likely it was that I could die because of what I was about to propose. A warm sense of calm fell through my body.
“Me,” I said, my voice clear and hard. “The target will be me.”
The magic that had been growing between Gareth and Ifanna latched on to me as well, sending a few golden sparks flying.
The impact left me reeling, and my ears rang.
Only dimly did I hear everyone’s protests: Farrin’s gasp, Gemma’s little sob, angry curses from Danesh and Ryder.
The rest of my attention was fixed on Gareth, who looked as if all the life had been sucked out of him at once.
I hated him for looking at me like that.
It was his rash decision that had forced my hand.
“Mara, gods, no,” he choked out.
Ifanna ignored all of them. She looked hard at me with her obsidian eyes. “Does that not give your friends an unfair advantage? You would run from us and seek haven with them, make it easier for them to claim you.”
“Then let us alter the terms of the accord,” I said at once. “If we have an advantage, then so should you. You may use double the number of hunters that we have: twelve of us, twenty-four of you.”
I ignored Gareth’s rough curse behind me and tensed, my legs tensed to leap and my hands itching to strike.
The words had been said, the fight was laid out before me, and I was ready for whatever fate awaited me.
All the times I’d snuck away to the Old Country seeking violence suddenly seemed foolish and pale.
This was the hopeless danger I’d been craving.
“Agreed, Mara the sentinel,” Lady Ifanna said at last with a sharp crescent-moon smile. She went to her throne and withdrew from behind it a beautiful bow carved of white bone and a quiver full of arrows. “The accord has been altered and is now complete. I suggest you start running.”