Page 27

Chapter 27

Kat

I wake with a headache strong enough to shake the foundations of the world.

“It’s no fun, is it?” rumbles a low voice that comes very close. “Here. Drink this.”

A hand slides under my back and shifts me upright while the world spins. The lip of a warm bowl presses against my lips. I open, and he pours a savory broth into my mouth. When I’m steady enough, I take the bowl in both hands and drink it all greedily. I still can’t bear to open my eyes all the way, but the fog has cleared enough to recognize the prince.

“I doubt I can take all of the headache away, but I can take the edge off of it, if you’d like,” he says.

“Yes please,” I groan.

His hand, pleasantly cool, lands on my forehead. I flinch instinctively at the contact but force myself to relax. Then I flinch again when I realize belatedly that he’s about to work magic on me.

“Easy, there,” he murmurs, and then he mutters a string of unfamiliar words under his breath.

Like a wave washing away a castle in the sand, the pounding of my head dissipates. All that remains is a faint twinge. My whole body goes liquid from the relief, and Rahk catches the bowl before I drop it. I turn my head toward him, to find he’s kneeling beside the bed. His silver hair is loose and falls in waves to his chest.

He smiles at me, his eyes twinkling in the morning light.

My shoulders stiffen. Why does he look at me so . . . so . . . softly ?

And what in the saints is going on? What happened last night? Why is he tending to me instead of me tending to him? I glance at the window, at the angle of sunlight. The sun has been up for some time already.

Am I decent beneath these covers? I can feel my chest binding with every breath, so I know I’m still wearing that. But last night is a complete blank in my mind.

I’m not sure I’ve ever felt so vulnerable in my entire life.

The prince seems to catch my rising panic. His expression shifts at once, and he gets to his feet. He somehow seems taller when he turns his back to me. “Does a drinking game with servants ring any bells in your mind?”

I see Jack, Finn, and Arthur with their game of Crowns and their bottle of whiskey. Horror fills my gut. “I got drunk!”

“Very, very drunk.” His tone changes slightly. “Do you . . . remember anything?”

My mouth goes dry. “Remember . . . what? Oh, I said things, didn’t I?”

I blathered all my secrets to him last night, didn’t I? I want to throw myself from the bed and just try to run away as fast as I can. Maybe I can put some distance between us before he catches up and slaughters me.

The prince turns, regarding me impassively. Gone is the warmth of his smile. He’s the stoic prince I cannot read at all. He moves to the table, drops into his chair, and flips open the book he was reading. He’s almost finished with it. “You went to bed shortly after you returned drunk.”

A tiny glimmer of hope sparks in my chest. He doesn’t look like he’s about to murder me.

“Did I say foolish things? You know how terribly foolish I can be when sober! It must have been even worse when drunk! I never wanted to get drunk! I tried to leave but they said they’d steal my clothes if I did!”

His attention flicks up from his book at that, a frown etched into his face. “Who? Did they hurt you?”

I shake my head.

“Who were these people?”

The boys’ names are on the tip of my tongue, but I swallow them back. “They didn’t mean harm. I’d rather not get them in trouble. But please, my lord—I must know what I said last night.”

Rahk does not seem pleased with my silence, but he doesn’t press. “Ease your worries. You said almost nothing.”

“Nothing?” I blink twice, expecting to wake up again and realize I’m dreaming up this good fortune. “Nothing at all?”

“Almost nothing. There was one thing you said.”

I gulp.

“You said you were in danger. You were afraid I was going to kill you.”

Oh no . “Well—you’re a fae. You’re a warrior, and you have those great big swords back home, and you’re practically the size of a mountain. And I saw you kill all those assassins in just a few minutes. You’re scary!”

He just looks at me without a stitch of emotion on his face.

“And then you do that!” I cry, gesturing at him and completely forgetting to not behave so much like myself. “You make it impossible to guess what you’re thinking!”

He sighs, and if I didn’t know better, I’d think he was frustrated. “Well, I will tell you what I told you last night. I’m not going to kill you. I’m not going to hurt you. You’re safe with me. As long as you are under my roof, you are under my protection. I won’t let anyone hurt you. If you are ever afraid—of anything—you need only to tell me. Understand, Nat?”

I shuffle back one step. I nod, trying to ignore the sinking dread inside me. I wish my fears were so easily soothed by taking them to the prince. I almost wish I didn’t know he was here for the purpose of hunting me down and, likely, bringing me to justice in the Nothril Court.

My stomach turns queasy. I grab my spare change of clothes, cup my hand over my mouth, and bolt out of the room.

I manage to make it all the way outside before I vomit.

Rahk

I stare at the door Kat disappeared through. I drop my book, lean back in my chair, and let out a low groan. All the progress we made last night—gone. It shouldn’t surprise me. She was drunk. She said things she wouldn’t have otherwise said. But I wanted her to remember. I wanted her to remember that she kissed me.

I could have just told her everything instead of lying and letting the sting of iron fill my mouth. The picture of her face and its utter horror flashes across my mind’s eye. I had my chance, and I couldn’t do it.

I want her to confide in me when she is in her right mind. I want her to choose to trust me. I want her to feel safe around me. Like she did last night.

It feels like we are back at the beginning again.

When Kat returns, she’s dressed in fresh clothes, her old ones draped neatly over her shoulder as she carries a tray of breakfast for me. She doesn’t meet my gaze, but sets the tray down on my desk and asks, “How else may I serve you, Master?”

I don’t like giving her orders. I don’t like her serving me. Last night, however, that was the one thing she asked for—that she would be allowed to continue serving me.

So I say, “Please ready my clothes for the luncheon.”

She bows and hurries to do it, leaving me to my breakfast.

The luncheon itself is hosted on the shoreline. The salty air is pleasant enough that I test my ability to go without ollea . A large white canopy is set up on the green lawn beside the sandy beach. Musicians with stringed instruments sit in one corner, playing a cheerful song that threads through the well-dressed guests and the tables of refreshments.

The queen herself sits on a small white throne, wearing a gown of pastel yellow and a high updo. Her son has his own chair beside her. He wears his own soft-colored finery and an expression of boredom that shifts to curiosity when he spies me.

Kat is dressed in her starched livery and shifts uncomfortably every few minutes to tug on her scratchy collar. I suppress a smile. When she sees the gentle waves of the ocean, however, she brightens. With dilated pupils, she seems to gobble up the sight of the shore. I wish I could ask questions of the woman at my side, and not the boy she’s pretending to be.

Her lips part, and I remember how soft they were on my cheek and chin last night.

I turn away from her, clearing my throat, and focus on the people milling around. Now would be a good time to meet Lady Vandermore, if she is present, though the idea of doing so in front of Kat sits in my gut uncomfortably.

I spot Oliver the moment he sees me. He has just taken a sip of punch when he offers a broad, tight-lipped smile and waves.

“So you got yourself an invitation to the exclusive Queen’s Luncheon,” says Oliver, sidling up to me. Kat slinks to my opposite side and remains quiet. “Impressive, though it doesn’t mean as much as you might think it does. She sometimes invites her enemies just so she can keep an eye on them.”

As though summoned, Queen Vivienne levels a sharp-eyed glare upon the two of us speaking, lingering on me. I incline my head.

“Come, before you address the queen, let me introduce you to my nemesis,” says Lord Oliver.

My eyebrows rise. “Your nemesis?”

“What? Did you think humans didn’t have them?” he asks with a wink. “This particular gentleman is my nemesis—and many others’—because he somehow managed to convince Lady Vandermore’s guardian that he was the most suitable suitor and now she aids his efforts at winning the young lady’s heart. It is a shame that Lady Vandermore is not here.”

She is not here, yet again?

“I will get you refreshments, my lord!” says Kat before running off, even though I gave her no such command.

“Guardian?” I repeat, returning my focus to the conversation. “Lady Duxbury Vandermore is not her mother?”

“Oh, no, not at all. She is Lady Vandermore’s stepmother. I don’t think they get along well.”

“Then your nemesis’s alliance might not aid him well,” I say dryly. “Who is he?”

“That gentleman over there.” Oliver points to a short man with ruffled sleeves and unsteady balance. I recognize him as having been the one to approach Kat in the sparring yard and presumably try to bribe her with coin for information about me. Oliver marches over, expecting me to follow, and offers a slightly dimmed version of his cheery grin. “Lord Boreham, you must meet Lord Rahk.”

Lord Boreham, startled, fumbles his drink. My hand darts out and catches it, preventing it from spilling across his ruffled sleeves. I return it and offer a nod. “Lord Boreham.”

“Lord Rahk,” he replies stiffly, taking his goblet and retreating one step. His posture is atrocious, back curved and hips collapsed forward. I find it hard to respect a man who cannot even hold his own body upright. There is a thread of tobacco and hard liquor that wraps around him, making me regret my decision to not apply ollea .

I glance over the tops of the heads of those around me until I find Kat. She stands awkwardly at the edge of the tent, a plate of dainties in one hand. She flushes when I catch her gaze. I lift one eyebrow in return. What nonsense is she up to now?

“Do you spar often?” I ask Lord Boreham. “I did not have the pleasure of crossing blades with you this last week. We must remedy that.”

“I’m not much of a swordsman,” Lord Boreham says with a nervous laugh.

You don’t say.

“He does not spend much time at the sparring yard because he does not live in Ashbourne,” Oliver explains.

“Where do you live?” I ask.

“Commington. It is not far from here.”

I could ask more questions, but Boreham clearly has no interest in the conversation. Judging by the way he shifts his weight between his feet, he is very uncomfortable in my presence. That is not surprising. Oliver seems to be the only person who does not mind my company.

“I bid you a safe journey home,” I say before putting the man out of his misery and striding away. Oliver continues the conversation while I make my way to the queen.

“That is close enough,” Queen Vivienne snaps when I come within five paces of her throne. Her hand falls protectively to her son’s head.

I sketch a bow. “As you wish. I have come to pay my respects.”

“Have you?” she replies. “What respects might you have for a human ruler? Not much, I’d wager.”

“More than you would wager,” I answer, refusing to respond in kind yet also refusing to grovel before her. “The human rulers I hold in contempt earn that privilege.”

The king of Aursailles, who I have had the unfortunate privilege of meeting, is one of them.

Queen Vivienne’s gaze moves past me to the ocean beyond the canopy. “What must I do to get you to leave our land?”

It is the closest she will come to admitting she sent those assassins to kill me. “Cooperate with me over the border issue when it becomes relevant.”

She waves a hand. “Besides that?”

I soothe my irritation with a deep breath. “That is the only way. You will soon have a troll squatting on the land that belongs to your people, and he won’t take orders from me. As the ruler of the land, you will need to order him to leave yourself.”

“A troll?” she laughs. “If you want to help us so much, just kill it.”

“I am under orders not to kill him.”

“And if I ordered you to kill him?”

“I would not listen.”

“I am finished speaking to you,” Queen Vivienne announces abruptly.

Is she, now? No wonder Ash was concerned about this transition. The troll isn’t even a problem yet, and the queen refuses to cooperate. I bow and leave, as glad to be rid of her company as she is of mine.

Kat slips back to my side, offering up the plate of refreshments she filled for me. Of all the things I feel upon her return, comfort was not what I expected. I take the plate, only to notice that there is the outline of something missing on the plate.

“Have you taxed my refreshments?” I ask.

She shoves her hands behind her back and bites down on her lip—a guilty expression if I’ve ever seen one.

“What have you robbed me of? Confess at once.” I almost call her Kat, and barely bite back the name in time.

“A chocolate strawberry!” she blurts. “It was delicious. I went to get you another one, but they were all gone. I’m afraid I am not sorry. I really loved eating that strawberry.”

I cannot help my laugh. Several people startle, turning to stare at me, as though they never thought a fae capable of laughter. I hold the plate out to Kat, offering her choice of the dainties.

“You may select another tax,” I say.

She eagerly inspects the plate. I watch her gaze swivel between a morsel of sweet meat and a tiny cranberry biscuit. She chooses the meat and closes her eyes to enjoy its flavor. My mouth tilts in a smile. When she opens her eyes, I hold out the cranberry biscuit to her lips.

“Another tax?” she asks.

“Only because I feel generous.”

She glances a little uneasily around to make sure no one is watching us when she opens her mouth and lets me feed her the biscuit. Her enjoyment is deeply satisfying to me.

I pull the plate back to myself and eat without tasting. Every piece of food is so small it barely counts as a real bite. I will need a substantive meal after this—unless they want me to eat entire trays of tiny sandwiches and biscuits.

Kat stands at my side, bouncing on the balls of her feet, her hands clasped behind her back. No one gives her a second glance and it baffles me. What do they see when they look at her? Not what I see—they could never look past her if they saw what I saw.

My ribs suddenly feel squeezed tight in this doublet. I do not know what to make of these thoughts that keep invading my mind. Or, rather, I know what they mean, but their meaning is so preposterous I decide they must have some other meaning. Something that has nothing to do with how quickly my eyes are drawn back to my attendant.

I cannot court Lady Vandermore.

The realization is so sudden, so stark, I can do nothing but surrender to it. I will find some other way to win the queen’s favor.

I need to meet with Lady Duxbury Vandermore and withdraw my suit.

We leave for Ashbourne after the luncheon and travel well into the night before we arrive home. Kat is stretched across the opposite bench inside the carriage, fast asleep. For the thousandth time, I wonder what I’m going to do with her. Her pleasant scent fills the carriage to the point it is impossible to ignore it. Not that I want to ignore it.

The carriage pulls to a stop, but Kat doesn’t stir. I lean close and lay a hand on her shoulder. Still, she does not wake.

I sigh and lift her gently into my arms.

“My lord!” cries Edvear, rushing out to greet us. “What can I—oh! What has happened?”

“Hush!” I mouth at him with a glare. “Nat is asleep.”

Edvear’s jaw sags. “Why . . .?”

“Because it’s in the middle of the night,” I reply through my gritted teeth.

“No, why are you—” He wisely cuts himself off and goes to take care of our luggage instead.

Kat’s arm hangs limply from her shoulder as I move carefully. Now that I’ve chosen this route instead of waking her up in the carriage, I’d rather she didn’t wake at all.

Quietly, I lay her on her own cot and tug the covers over her. She lets out a soft moan and rolls to her side, toward me. I withdraw my hands and mutter, “Don’t fall off your bed.”

Then I leave, breathing harder than I should.

Edvear brings the luggage inside. I had originally planned to visit the border tonight, but I’m tired as well—and I have this prickling sense that I will want to be rested tomorrow night. Since I’ve placed wards around the estate to alert me of people I don’t know stepping onto the grounds, I am comfortable letting my guard down for a few hours. So I stretch out on my own bed and let my exhaustion claim me.

The next evening, my intuition proves true.

I am at my desk, staring into space instead of tending to my work, when an invisible thread, pulling taut against me, snaps in half.

I’m on my feet in an instant. The Ivy Mask is back on the prowl.

My swords are strapped to my back within minutes. I don’t bother to check in on Kat or inform Edvear that I’ll be gone. Instead, I open the window and leap into the night.

Tonight, I’ll get him. Tonight, I’ll make him my ally and find some way to make him rescue Pavi from Nothril. And then the rest of my plan will fall into motion.