Page 46

Chapter 46

Rahk

Caphryl Wood. She called it by the fae name.

I must have called it by that name enough that it has slipped into her vocabulary. I shrug off the oddity as we each change into more presentable outfits to visit the queen.

“The queen doesn’t take visitors without an appointment. Getting an appointment with her is a long process,” Kat tells me as Mary runs after her and pins her flyaway hairs.

I button my cuffs as I stride into the courtyard where our carriage is waiting. “She will see us. It is urgent, and she is fascinated by us.”

“Fascinated?” Kat hurries after me. I hand her into the carriage before stepping in after her and ducking my head beneath the low ceiling. It is late in the day and the shadows grow long. “Are you sure you’re not just flattering yourself? I saw how cold she was to you at the luncheon.”

I regard her evenly. “Queen Vivienne, for all her posturing and refusal to work with me to remove the troll, does find it vastly interesting that of all people, you seemingly chose to marry me. She wants the story. I saw it in her face at the wedding.”

“Are you good at reading people?”

I lift one eyebrow. “Yes.”

I expect her to lean forward and give a saucy reply, but instead she blinks and looks away. She scoots to the window and moves aside the curtain, watching the world move outside of our little box on wheels. I don’t feign the same disinterest, and study her openly. I trace the line of her profile to her jaw, down her throat, to the hollow between her collarbones.

What does she not want me to read on her face?

I had hoped that once we’d gotten past her deception as my servant, she would open to me the way I long for her to. In some ways she has, but there is something I don’t know. Something driving her—something she wants—and I cannot figure it out.

Have no fear, Kat. Your mind and motives remain a mystery to me.

Looking at her now, in her pale blue gown that compliments her dark hair and eyes well, with a simple silver chain around her long neck that someday I would very much like to kiss, I see two futures before us. One where we remain as friends, and our marriage a mutually beneficial agreement. I may not spend much time in the human lands long term, but she will remain provided for and comfortable all the days of her life. Not that she would need me to provide those things, situated as she is with her inheritance. Still, if she needed anything, she would have it.

The other future, however, sends my blood pounding.

No part of that future makes rational sense. She must stay here in the human world. I must go back to Faerie. She will live for decades more, and I will live for centuries. She will die, and I will take the throne of Nothril.

Something hot and frantic bubbles up in my gut at that thought. Even if I regularly returned to Ashbourne to visit Kat, I cannot stop her from growing old. I cannot prevent her death. When did my long life suddenly feel like the cruelest of curses?

“Is that why you came to the human lands?” Kat asks, breaking the silence unexpectedly. “To remove the troll? Did you know he would be a problem?”

I have not been sworn to secrecy regarding the Ivy Mask. I could tell her. Every fiber of my being balks at the idea, however. What would she think of me if she knew I actively worked to destroy the very person who likely rescued her mother from the depths of Faerieland?

She would despise me.

“My High King—he is the friend I mentioned before, the one named Ash—knew the troll would become a problem and sent me to address it,” I reply.

“Then . . . why didn’t you address it? While we were back at the Long Lost Wood?”

I release a sigh. “Because Ymer is very old fashioned, and will not listen to anyone save the ruler of the land. Queen Vivienne must bid him leave, or else he will not leave.”

“That sounds annoying.”

“Very.”

By the scent shift in the air, I know we have arrived at the palace gates. I lean forward, pull aside the curtains, and bark at the guards, “Lady Katherine and I come bearing urgent news of the Long Lost Wood’s border.”

The gates open. We proceed unhindered.

The first person to greet us, besides guards, appears to be some sort of steward. He has a very wide mouth, with very large lips, and he runs down the grand staircase the moment I help Kat out of the carriage, blathering, “You do not have an appointment! The queen will not see you.”

“The queen will see us, at once,” I reply firmly, taking Kat’s hand as she feigns distraction with the colorful palace roses flanking the steps, and tuck it into my elbow. She looks anywhere but me, her face flushing bright pink from the contact. I hide my satisfied smirk.

She is the one, however, who reaches out and places a gentle hand on the steward’s forearm. “Queen Vivienne told me I may visit her at any time, and we come on no small matter. Please let us through.”

Then she smiles, and his open mouth slowly closes. “This way.”

When we are inside, I lean down and whisper, “That was impressive. Perhaps I ought to have married you sooner.”

She flushes a little, and opens her mouth to reply, her lips angled in that way when she’s about to give a sassy retort. She doesn’t get a chance, however, because the queen’s voice echoes into the chamber we stand in.

“Who are these persons who demand to see me so vehemently that my stalwart Nelson is shaking in his boots?”

“It’s Lord Rahk and Lady Katherine, Your Majesty.”

Her tone sharpens at once. “Lord Rahk and Lady Katherine, is it? Send them in.”

Queen Vivienne sits in a very green chamber. The ornate, patterned rug on the wood floor is green. Intricate scrollwork is carved into the dark wood trim of the room. The curtains, the straight-backed upholstered furniture, and even the jewelry around the queen’s throat are all the exact same shade of green. So is the screen behind the queen’s back, which conceals all but a few shadows beneath it—shadows from warrior boots. How many men does she have back there?

Enough in number and skill for her to feel comfortable inviting me into this enclosed space after I dispatched her assassins.

That tells me everything I need to know about how much this queen trusts me.

Her son is with her. He wears a green doublet, embroidered in silver, and at our entrance, the queen kisses the boy’s forehead and bids him to step out for a minute. Then she turns to us, and all the warmth she saved for her son is swept away into her queenly mask.

“Lord Rahk,” she says in a guarded tone. Her attention shifts to Kat next to me as she curtsies. Her voice shifts very slightly to interest. “You’ve brought your new bride.”

“I’m afraid we come on urgent matters,” I say, bowing.

Queen Vivienne arches one groomed eyebrow. “Surely this is not another request for me to come speak to the troll. I sent that letter. Have you not taken it to him?”

“I did take it. He could not read it, so he ate it instead. You will have to come in person.”

She clenches her jaw. Her gaze goes to the door her son disappeared through.

“You would be protected,” I add. “By me, or your own guards, as your comfort dictated.”

“You claim it would be safe for me to approach this troll?”

I hesitate slightly. Kat’s silent gaze is warm on the side of my face. “It would not be safe, but as I said, you would be protected.”

I ignore the tea a manservant pours. Kat takes two sugars and eyes the dish long enough to tell me she’s trying to decide between being polite or taking a third sugar. I lean forward and use the spoon to place the third sugar into her cup without taking my attention off Queen Vivienne, who dismisses the manservant.

It almost seems like the queen trusts me . . . less after marrying Kat. The glances she gives my wife are sharp, as though she means to communicate or signal something.

She is trying to ask Kat if she is safe.

I lean back on the bench, finally understanding the dynamics at play here. The queen has believed from the beginning that I have ulterior motives for being here. Motives as dark, perhaps, as desiring to take her throne. Faerieland is finally returning the land it stole from the humans, but it would make sense from her vantage point that individual fae like myself might hate the High King and Queen’s plan to return the land—and decide to take matters into my own hands to reclaim it. The troll might be my ploy to get her away from her throne, her beloved heir, and the protection of her people. Kat, herself, might be a captive victim threatened behind closed doors to act like the happy young wife to make the queen and court trust me.

Well, this just became far more complicated.

“Even if you do not address the troll,” I say, trying to make my tone as unthreatening as possible, “your own people are at the edge of the Wood and the troll puts them in danger.”

Queen Vivienne cocks her head to one side. “My people? What are they doing at the edge of the Wood?”

“They are growing massive fruit and vegetables!” Kat blurts. “Tomatoes the size of my head! Or bigger!”

“They?”

“Commoners, mostly,” I clarify. “They are farming the land—stealing it from its rightful owners, the people who suffered when the forest encroached, and risking their own lives in the process. The phenomenon will wear off eventually, but it may be weeks or months before it does. I do not think it will be much longer before there are casualties at the hand of the troll.”

Vivienne nods, sipping her tea. “Have you a proposal for this problem?”

I consider her question. Kat watches me expectantly, and she seems unusually curious about what I will say next. I exhale slowly. “I leave the decision in your hands, Queen Vivienne. Ymer, the troll, will leave if you go out to order him to leave. The matter of how to handle the land is for you to decide. My recommendation would be that the land be restored to its rightful owners.”

Queen Vivienne smiles. “Which, I suppose, means much of the land would go to you.”

Ah. She thinks of me as coming to claim the missing pieces of Kat’s inheritance. It is a silly thought, because if I were here to steal the Harbright throne, I would have no need to bother with land I could otherwise commandeer at my whim.

I see no point in insisting that I will not touch Kat’s inheritance. It will only set the queen further in the advantage.

“Only a small portion of all the land swallowed up by the Long Lost Wood belongs to Lady Katherine,” I reply coolly. “The graver matter is the issue of the lives at risk as long as the troll is allowed to stay.”

Queen Vivienne leans forward slightly. “If you wish to prove your loyalty to myself and to your wife, you should get rid of the troll yourself.”

I don’t bother replying. I’ve explained why I cannot do that in the past, though the thought of just killing Ymer and letting Ash deal with the consequences grows more appealing by the day.

I get to my feet. “We have taken enough of your time. We have delivered our message. Send a reply if you decide you wish for me to accompany you and your men to visit Ymer.”

I hold my hand out for Kat. She takes it, and I’ve only just drawn her up when Queen Vivienne speaks again.

“Since you are here, you must ease my curiosity.”

We both turn toward her.

She has a fiendish fire in her eye, clearly bent on unraveling me and finding my weaknesses. “Lord Rahk, since your children will be half fae, half human, will you raise them here or will you take them back to Faerieland?”

I blink in surprise at the forthrightness. Kat chokes on thin air—a sound that seems to shock the manservant who has reentered the room more than it surprises either me or the queen. Her head whips toward me, a look of sheer terror overcoming her expression.

I place a hand on her back and reply easily, “They would be raised here, certainly. I’m afraid they would not be recognized as legitimate in Faerieland.”

“Not considered legitimate?” The queen leans forward at that. “I heard my sister, who has been gone all these years in Faerieland, has a son. Is he not considered legitimate?”

Kat subtly wrings her hands in the folds of her skirts. I give her spine a subtle stroke, meant to comfort her and tell her I’ll handle this. She leans into my touch. My heart races in reply.

“The situation with your sister is not the same,” I say. “I am from a different Court. Lord and Lady Nothril will not recognize any half-human children of mine, and I consider that a fortunate thing.” Before she can ask another overly personal question, I repeat, “Since we have delivered our news, we shall leave you. Thank you for receiving us.”

She waves impatiently. “You both had better be at the ball at the end of the week.”

“Of course we will.” I push Kat out of the room with light pressure between her shoulder blades. The moment the doors close behind us, she turns a look up at me as if to say, “Can you believe that?”

I chuckle as we make our escape. She lets out a great big exhalation when she settles into the carriage and throws her feet up on the opposite bench, next to where I sit. They are startlingly small and distract me from the frustration of this meeting.

“I could go a long while without seeing her again!” Kat announces once the sound of horse hooves on cobblestones drowns out any possibility of us being overheard. “Only she could ask a question like that and not suffer consequences.”

“It seems she has suffered a steep consequence: the lack of your good grace.”

She shoots me a glare. I fight a smile.

“We’ve been married for only two days,” she continues, huffing irritably. “And already we must face questions such as these.”

A thought slips into my mind. I am forced to turn my face away from her, so she doesn’t see how much I fail to contain my amusement. At first, I consider letting the thought pass by without comment. Then I decide I cannot leave a perfect opportunity to tease Kat into a blush.

She scowls out the window at the world passing by. Several wisps of hair from her bun have come loose and dangle about her cheekbones. I train my features into solemnity and my voice into a casual tone. “I have just realized that our children might have wings.”

Kat’s jaw drops open as her face turns the brightest shade of red I’ve ever seen. My grin slips past my guard, and she cries, “You said that just to embarrass me!”

My laughter fills the carriage. She rips one of her shoes off and smashes it against my shoulder. I catch her wrist, preventing her from whacking me again. She struggles to yank free, which somehow amuses me even more. I consider kissing her again. Maybe she wouldn’t be shocked this time. Maybe I could pull her to myself—

“Did you marry me with the intent to spawn a brood of half-fae winged monsters?” she demands, yanking hard on her wrist. I release her, and she goes tumbling against the back of the carriage. More of her hair escapes her bun, framing her face with short, wild strands.

“No,” I confess, trying to rein in my grin and failing. “But the idea grows more appealing by the moment.”

“You take far too much pleasure in tormenting me.” Kat crosses her arms over her chest, her discarded shoe beside her on the bench. “Mercy, I plead!”

I laugh. Then, after weighing the possibilities in my head, I venture a bold request. “If I offer you mercy and a reprieve from the discussion of winged monster children, then will you offer me a kiss?”

I was wrong— this is the reddest I’ve ever seen her. Her dark eyes shoot to mine. There’s fear in her irises, but not of me. Of something I still cannot place. Beyond the fear, however, is something else that flickers and dances in her pupils.

She blinks and shuts her mouth firmly. “That doesn’t seem like a smart bargain.”

I lift my eyebrows. “Oh?”

“Kisses are known to lead to winged monster children. I cannot risk it.”

I laugh and settle into my side of the carriage, pleased enough with her reply to not be too disappointed at her rejection. Her eyes betrayed her—she wants to kiss me. That knowledge is enough for this moment. “In that case, you must permit one more comment on the subject.”

Her brows slant low together. “Don’t tell me they would have claws and fangs too.”

I shake my head, smiling a little before letting it flatten. “You should know that I will not ask children of you. As I said to the queen, they will not be acknowledged in my land or by my people. They would not be my heirs. Thus, I leave the decision entirely to your desires and wishes.”

The corner of her mouth tilts in curiosity. Her fingers tap along the embroidered cushion she sits on. “You have no desire for children? No desire aside from having an heir to your Nothril throne after you die?”

I shift slightly on my seat. “Do you remember the conversation we once had about why—until you—I had not married?”

She nods.

“Having a child would be to give others more power over me. I do not wish that upon myself—or the child. Great Kings, I have been soft toward my youngest sister, and that is enough for Lord and Lady Nothril to bind me to their will.” I hesitate, wondering if I should be this honest with her. It is the sight of those tiny scars on her face that remind me just how much I can trust her. “I desire for her to be gone from Nothril, so she will not be caught in the crossfires of my parents’ intrigues and power plays.”

Something quickens in the air around her. “Gone from Nothril? How would you accomplish that?”

I give a dry snort. “ I cannot accomplish such a thing. Not if I value my life.”

“Lord and Lady Nothril—your parents—would kill you? If you took your sister out of Faerieland?”

“Me, and her both. And likely many others just for the spite of it.” Pictures carry across my mind’s eye, splattered in the blood I was called to shed. “Someone else would have to do it.”

“Who could break a princess out of Nothril?”

Don’t tell her, the Nothril part of me growls. But when I look at her face, at her upturned nose and those freckles, I don’t feel very Nothril anymore.

“One called the Ivy Mask,” I whisper.

A powerful jolt goes through her body. Her eyes immediately flee from mine.

I cock my head to one side. “You know of him. He freed your mother, didn’t he?”

She doesn’t reply, clenching her elbow in one hand, her knuckles turning white.

A pang hits my chest. “I—I shouldn’t have mentioned your mother. I am sorry.”

She sits upright and sucks in a breath through her teeth—pulling together her rattled composure. “No, no, it is fine. I just haven’t . . . I did not think I would hear that name from you.”

Does she know much about the Ivy Mask? All this time, could Kat have been the key to finding him?

An uncomfortable weight settles in my gut. If she knew I wanted the Ivy Mask for more than just a means of getting Pavi out of Faerie, she would hate me.

“You know him?” I ask tentatively.

Despite her attempts to stay cool, her rapidly tapping foot betrays how uncomfortable she is. “No, I never met him. But I heard the name. A long time ago.”

So she won’t be helpful after all. I should be disappointed, but instead, I am relieved. If I caught the Ivy Mask and killed him because of information Kat gave me, she would never forgive me.

“You want your sister to be free of Nothril?” she asks. “Or all Faerie?”

“All Faerie,” I reply immediately. “Fae rulers cannot cross the border into the human lands. If she were here, in the human world, Lord and Lady Nothril could not pursue her.”

She considers this for a moment. “You would have her come here, but you yourself would go back? I thought she was the reason you had to go back.”

“She is the most pressing reason, but not the only one.”

“Then what other reasons take you back?”

Is there something behind that question? Does she want me to stay? My heart quickens. “I have a throne to inherit.”

“Are you the only person who can inherit it?”

“One of my sisters could. If something happened to me.” I am not the only heir, and thus, I am, technically, disposable. And if I find myself disposed , then who will protect Pavi?

“So you don’t have to return for your throne. Unless you wanted to. Do you want to?”

Her dark eyes pierce me with their intensity, making me forget to breathe momentarily. She leans forward, and there is that sharp cunning flashing in her face. She usually hides it so well.

“I don’t believe you want your throne, Rahk,” she says quietly, though her words strike like arrows. “There is something else taking you back to Faerieland. What is it?”

So this is what it feels to be on the other end of my interrogations. I do not like it. When Kat looks at me like that, it feels like there is nothing I can hide from her. No one can see through me like she does. Not even Ash. It is something I have come to both dread and desire.

“I have a dear friend,” I say hesitantly. “If I left Nothril and abandoned my throne, I would be cast away from Faerie. I would never see him again.”

She studies me intently. I try to make my face as unreadable as possible.

“That’s not why,” she says at last.

“Kat—”

“I am not saying that you do not care about your friend, or that you would not be devastated by his loss, but there is something else that pulls you back to Faerieland. What is it?”

Tension builds up inside my chest. There is something pulling me back—but until now, I did not realize it was something besides Pavi or Ash or my responsibilities as a prince of Nothril. The thought of never going back fills me with coldness, with a sense of true, permanent failure. I cannot give up. It would prove—it would prove—

Then, like the clouds parting to reveal the sun, I finally understand.

My voice comes out low and quiet, but it fills the carriage. “I have always feared that the longer I live in Nothril, the more I lose myself—and the more corrupt I become. Ash always said I would be the first ruler in many, many ages who could bring goodness back to Nothril, but I have always worried that by the time I ascended the throne, there would be nothing left of me. I would be another Lord and Lady Nothril.”

Kat listens intently, her face softening the longer I speak, as though she understands. Part of me relaxes. Maybe she does understand. Maybe she won’t despise me for all the things I have done.

Maybe she will someday understand that when I destroy the Ivy Mask to save Pavi’s life, I destroy myself too.

“But I do not want that to be true of me,” I say. A slight tremor has entered my hand, I slide it away from Kat’s gaze. “I want to be strong enough to not buckle under the pressure. Which means that I cannot walk away.”

“Because walking away means you’ve admitted defeat,” Kat finishes for me.

I hold her gaze, which is full of the kindness I’ve been so starved for. I wish I could bottle up her goodness and hold it inside me like a light when the night comes to devour me.

Her hand lands on my knee. The warmth of that touch travels all the way to my marrow. She gives a gentle squeeze. I swallow hard.

She withdraws her hand, and we do not speak the rest of the drive home.