Chapter 8
SAPHIRA
Itook the seat opposite Sylvan, keeping my eyes fixed on him as I arranged myself in it as demurely as I could manage, not wrestling with the skirts of my dress as I wanted to.
Not letting him see any weakness as he stared right back at me, watching me too closely.
I concealed all my fear and my doubts, shoving them down deep inside and letting my wolf side come to the fore as it wanted.
I had faced predators before, had been trained by one of the most dangerous males in this realm. I wasn’t going to let Sylvan scare me.
Kaeleron hadn’t managed it and I had been naked and in a musty dungeon when I had first faced him.
Sylvan took his sweet time about sitting down, as if he enjoyed seeing me lower than he was. Maybe he did. Maybe he had a reason to be nice to me one moment and issue veiled threats in the next.
He finally retook his seat, leaning back to lounge in it. A show of power the wolf in me recognised. He wanted me to know he ran this court, that in the absence of a ruler he had been taking care of it and making the rules for the last gods only knew how long.
A male used to having power.
And not used to having it taken from him.
I wasn’t sure when the first heirs had come to the castle, displacing him, but I would find out.
The fact that he continued to hold the power here despite our presence was warning enough to me, whispering at me to be cautious, careful.
We might be heirs to the Summer throne, but we weren’t rulers. Not yet.
I tested that theory.
“You mentioned something about my one hundredth year at the presentation.”
He nodded, barely inclining his head, his blue eyes still holding mine. “I did.”
“I’m the oldest, and that makes me heir, which means we have another year before I can rule.
” I felt my way through those words, only realising that I had missed celebrating my birthday.
Or perhaps I had celebrated it in a way.
I had been too nervous about Beltane and my impending heat to even piece together the date the great rite had taken place.
My birthday.
“It does.” He idly nudged one of the pieces of paper on his desk, neatening the stack. “When you reach one hundred, you will be coronated as queen of this court.”
“Presuming I get there,” I muttered.
His smile returned. “Presuming you get there.”
I wasn’t planning on sticking around in the Summer Court for a year, but I didn’t know how long it would take me to find the information Kaeleron needed and escape this place.
I had been in the Shadow Court for months and I had barely scratched the surface there.
It was reasonable that I might have to spend just as long here in this court, digging around for the truth. The thought left me cold.
I didn’t want to be away from Kaeleron for that long.
And I had serious doubts Jenavyr would be able to keep him in his court for that amount of time.
Eventually, one of us would crack.
“How did you come to be in the Shadow Court?” Sylvan formed a steeple with his hands, splaying his fingers as he studied me, blue eyes growing sharp as they narrowed on me.
And so it began.
“My bastard fated mate sold me to him.” I didn’t bother to keep the venom from my voice as I snarled that. “Kaeleron bought me and dragged me here. I woke up in his dungeon.”
The seelie only stared at me harder, as if he was trying to peel back my layers, stripping away my mask to seek out the truth as he said, “But you did not remain in the dungeon.”
“No.” I sat a little straighter, resting my dagger in my lap, and his gaze flickered to it and that death grip I had on it.
“I was moved into the castle. He treated me like a servant. He lied to me and said I could earn my freedom by repaying what it cost for him to purchase me by doing things he ordered, and I foolishly went along with it. It was all just a vile manipulation, a way of amusing himself with my naivety and how desperately I wanted my freedom. He enjoyed making me do… things.”
I shoved that pause in there for dramatic effect, letting the word ‘things’ tremble a little and hang in the air, as if I was afraid to speak of them.
Let Sylvan think Kaeleron had forced me to do things against my will, when all he had done was order me to dinner, or to swim, or to get him out of his armour.
I didn’t think that would paint the picture I wanted Sylvan to see, so I skirted the truth, making it sound a lot worse than it had been.
“How many guards escorted you?” He canted his head.
A predator sizing up his prey.
“Two.” Not a lie. I shrugged when he looked surprised. “I don’t think he viewed me as a threat. Female wolves aren’t trained to fight.”
Also not a lie.
Which annoyed me a little.
Kaeleron had viewed me that way at first, and then he had honed me into a weapon capable of cutting him if I wanted.
“Were you given any sort of freedom while there? Were you able to move around the court?” Sylvan lowered his hands to his lap, the embodiment of a male who also didn’t think I was a threat to him, even when I held a dagger in my lap.
Let him think that I didn’t know how to properly wield this weapon. It worked to my advantage.
“Not really. Whenever I was allowed out, I was only able to walk the garden with my two shadows.” I shrugged. “It was a nice enough garden, but I never really paid it much attention. I was just glad to be out in the fresh air.”
“Did you meet other members of his court during your time there?” The shrewd steward sat up and reached for the stack of paper, lifting a piece from the top of the pile and scribbling down what I had said.
I looked at what he was writing, and the spell turned the swirls and dashes into words I could understand.
The presumptuous bastard had written that I was allowed freedom from Kaeleron’s bedchamber at times.
I didn’t correct him.
“Yes,” I answered and his gaze lifted, a flicker of something in his eyes.
“Who?” His ink pen shifted down, ready to record everything.
“Jenavyr, his sister. The commander you spoke about back in Canada. Riordan too. I saw them.”
He noted it down and then paused, gaze drilling into me. “Did you meet his spymaster? It is rumoured he is not fae.”
He looked too eager to hear whether I had and I didn’t like the thought of him trying to get information on Malachi and my court.
So I shook my head.
“Sorry. I only saw a few people. Kaeleron didn’t like letting me wander around much and he seemed quite guarded about his inner circle.”
Sylvan looked convinced. “A shame, but to be expected. The Shadow King toys with anyone who dares to cross into his court, so reports about his people are limited. We have not had a successful reconnaissance mission in that court for the last eighteen decades.”
One hundred and eighty years.
The ward Kaeleron kept running along the border of the Shadow Court was doing its job well then.
“I saw Silver Court fae while I was there. They… He butchered them and strung them up in the courtyard. It was… horrible.” I thought of those young males, spies who had been trained from childhood, and who had been stupid enough to follow their orders and infiltrate the Shadow Court.
They had died for nothing.
“There is a reason he is known throughout these lands as the Wrathful King.” Sylvan’s handsome face softened a touch and I assumed he was meant to look sympathetic but the way he bit out ‘Wrathful King’ made him sound anything but.
“I heard that it was because of the Summer Court.” I leaned forwards a little, not hiding my curiosity that was born of wanting to see his reaction rather than wanting to learn if that statement was true, like he probably thought it was.
“I heard this court is responsible for putting him on the throne.”
Sylvan didn’t even blink. “It was. His court was responsible for a heinous crime, and we acted in kind as retribution.”
I didn’t hide my shock. If anything, I leaned into it, acting both curious and horrified now. “You’re saying the Shadow Court killed someone and that’s why you killed the rulers of that court?”
He nodded, but before I could push him for more information, said, “You saw how cruel he was for yourself. Imagine how cruel his parents must have been to produce such a vile, vicious and bloodthirsty offspring.”
I had to force myself to nod and say nothing, swallowing the words that lodged in my throat. I had seen the paintings of his parents. I had seen the love in them, the warmth, and the kindness. I had seen the same love, warmth and kindness in their children.
Although it was a little tarnished in Kaeleron since this court had murdered his parents.
But what if Sylvan spoke true?
What if the attack in Belkarthen had been retaliatory?
Kaeleron had been so young he might not have known the Shadow Court had been the first to attack.
I added that to the list of things I needed to learn about while I was here.
“I am surprised you managed to escape, given that you are untrained and given how swift I know the Shadow King to be.” Sylvan tapped his pen against the paper as he looked me over, his gaze lingering on the dagger. “How is it you came to escape, and came to be in possession of that dagger?”
“Morden,” I said and when he frowned at me, I tacked on, “He was my protector at my pack. When you made contact with my mate—the bastard who sold me—he took my pack hostage and made Morden come to the Shadow Court to save me. But you already knew that, didn’t you?
Your people were the ones who helped Morden reach me. ”
He smiled slowly, something like pride shimmering in his eyes for a moment as they lifted to lock with mine.
“Yes, I already knew that. The wolf was taken to the Black Pass by my men and given directions to the castle. We were not sure he would reach you, but we are glad that he did. I am surprised you managed to escape the court though.”