“Somemay not have had a choice,” Blackbeard says, “but others stayed out of loyalty to our king.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Gray waves a dismissive hand. “Would you like a medal for that?”
Blackbeard ignores her. “Then there were those who had a choice, those who had been loyal to the king all their lives and still chose to leave him behind. A few mothers even left their pups, as I’m sure you’ve seen.”
My heart squeezes with the realization that Micah and the other children were abandoned. By their own mothers, no less.
Gray must see the horror on my face. “Not all unseelie are fit parents,” she says.
“Not all humans are, either,” I mutter, thinking of the man my father has become since Mother’s death. Returning to my original subject, I say, “The king told me that if the curse isn’t broken, it will claim his life. His age will catch up to the mortal body he’s left with and he will die within seconds. Will the same happen to everyone else?”
“Most of us,” Blackbeard says, rubbing the dark scruff on his chin. “The only ones who will have years ahead of them will be the children. They are still pups in both human and fae years.”
The consolation that brings is very small. Especially since they’ll be orphaned worse than they already are. With their caretakers dead, they’ll be left to fend for themselves. And everyone else will be…
“Are you not upset at the king for refusing to break the curse himself?” I ask. “You’d all be free if he’d sacrifice his unseelie form.”
Blackbeard shakes his head. “If he sacrifices his unseelie form, the same goes for the rest of us. We’d lose a vital piece of ourselves. The only true way to break the curse is to break it completely.”
Gray nods in agreement. “We knew what we were getting into when we stayed. If the curse isn’t broken by a human, then it’s death we face and death we choose. We’ve made peace with that. Most of us, at least.” Her craggy face softens as she lowers her voice. “Will you keep a promise for me?”
A chill of suspicion crawls up my back. I’ve heard how seriously fae take promises. “What would you have me promise?”
“If this all goes wrong, if the curse isn’t broken, will you see to the children? I’m not asking you to take them in yourself, but will you see they are cared for? Given homes amongst your kind, perhaps?”
Tears prick my eyes at the sincerity in her voice, the pleading in her gaze. “Gray, that’s not even up for debate. Nothing could stop me from caring for them if such a terrible thing were to come to pass.”
Blackbeard gives a dark chuckle. “Be careful thinking too sweetly of them. Some of them bite.”
A corner of my mouth quirks, but my mood is too somber to feel any true mirth. “I can handle a couple bites.”
* * *
Elliot remainswhere I last saw him out my window, eyes trained on the rose. He must have returned indoors at least once since last night, for I see he’s traded his prosthetic for his staff. I enter the courtyard, the king not bothering to look up. Seeing him like this makes a part of me yearn to rush to his side and sit next to him, to take his hands in mine and offer comfort. But I don’t think that’s what he truly needs right now.
Standing tall, I put my hands on my hips. “Get up, Mr. Rochester.”
Slowly, he slides his eyes to mine. “Why?”
“Why? What do you mean,why? Because sitting around here watching petals fall won’t help you. Action is all that can. So, come on. We’re advancing our scheme to the next level.”
He sits a little straighter. “How so?”
“It’s time for phase three,” I say. “We’ve snagged Imogen’s interest. She’s seen what you have to offer—your display of wealth and gentlemanly behavior. By now, you’re locked in her sights. Next, we need to encourage a deeper feeling. It’s time to tempt her from interest to love.”
He scoffs. “How do you suggest we do that?”
“Courtship.” I can’t say the word without a hint of disgust. “It’s time to do all the stupid little things that will encourage her attachment. Starting with an invitation to tea.”
He quirks a brow. “Tea?”
“Yes. I’ll send her a letter today and invite her to have tea with me.”
“Why you? Shouldn’t I be the one to invite her?”
“Of course not,” I say. “That would be highly improper. Normally, the expected response would be for you to call on her family at their townhouse and thank them for attending your dinner. Since you can’t stray too far from the manor, we need a creative alternative. You could invite her family over, but we’d have better luck advancing our timeline if we got Imogen alone. And that, Your Majesty, is whyIam inviting her to tea.”
“I still don’t see how that is supposed to make her fall in love with me.”
