“And did you find it there, beloved?”
Tate breathed, low and slow.Steady. “I found what I was willing to trade for it.”
The Queen’s eyes sparkled. “You were always good at knowing your price. Your worth. And how will you end this night,sweetling? Blood traitor? Kinslayer? Consort? Which will you choose, I wonder?”
Behind her, Cadoc’s hand dropped fully to the hilt of his blade as she giggled. No longer a tacit threat. This was a game that had only one ending. Tate saw the trap in her words, but also — the opportunity. One singular option with three titles.
The curling smoke of the ever-present fires that glowed around the court was weighted with incense, and his head was heavy. There was something he was meant to remember, something or someone, he was sure of it. The Bonfire Queen waited and the smoke swirled, and there was no room left for memories . . . but each thump of his heart bade him to remember something just out of reach.
When she reached out to caress the side of his long jaw, Tate caught her wrist, bringing his own close enough to his ear to hear it.Tick, tick, tick. Mind the time, lad.
Silva. He needed to get back to Silva. He needed to cut off their access to her, to keep her safe. To get home to her, if he could.
He saw the trap in her words and side-stepped it easily. “There is no beginning and no end, my Lady. It is always night in Her Majesty’s forest.”
Her grin was as sly as the fox at her feet. She turned then, abruptly, addressing the hall at large. “Let it be known,” she announced, voice ringing clear, “that our beloved has returned to us and remains under my protection.” A pause, her emerald eyes sliding back to Cadoc, just behind her, before turning back to Tate. “. . . For now.”
When she took his hand, leading up the dais and beyond the throne, in the direction of the chambers beyond, Tate understood. Taking him to her bed was another test. He could refuse. He could twist his way out of this, let his flip insouciance help wheedle him out of needing to do so, but he saw the trap in that as well.
She would smile and laugh, let him flatter her and lead the way to a different diversion, but the test would be failed and punishment would find him. He had the scars all over his body to prove that. Tate no longer cared what they did to him, buttheyknew that as well.
There had been an elf, one of the last times he’d been an unwilling guest of the Court of Autumn, an elf who’d found himself on the wrong side of a business dealing with one of the court, brought to Faerie for retribution. He’d had wide blue eyes and hair like a copper farthing, and he’d reminded Tatesomuch of his grandfather that he’d been willing to risk the Queen’s wrath. He’d led the elf to one of the doors out, over the swift-running brook and past the lightning-struck tree . . . but they’d been waiting, there at the end. The trees were spies and had reported his movements. Tate’s punishment for colluding with an outsider was that the elf was cut down and carved open in front of him, the blood flicked in his face.
He could not risk Silva’s safety, not while they had a way to access her. Survival took many forms, he thought with a pang, allowing himself to be led by the hand. Protecting Silva from harm was a necessity, and while he was a gambler,shewas not a gamble he was willing to take.Tick, tick, tick.
“Ready the hounds.”
Tate’s head snapped up. Cadoc’s voice was almost cheerful, always a bad sign.You didn’t bring the girl. No matter. He was already sliding on a riding glove, preparing to leave immediately. The hunting hounds would be ravenous by the time their master returned, quarry in tow.
Oh, that’s a fine plan, lad. Insult him. Bait him. And then turn your back on him and take his queen to bed. I’m sure he’s off to have a nice cup of tea while you’re otherwise engaged.
“Wait,” Tate choked out, Faelnor’s voice in his head nearly making him yelp with its accuracy. The Queen swung, daringhim to deny her. His pulse thudded behind his eye, the muscle jumping. Tate knew this wasn’t a test he could fail . . . but he couldn’t let Cadoc out of his sight.
He knew the game that was being played. He was an unwilling participant, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t make a move of his own now and then.Tick, tick, tick. Mind the time. He had to finish this tonight. Finish it and get back to her.
“He should watch.”
The queen’s smile was a slow spread, sticky like honey, glinting with malice, nodding her agreement. Tate considered that he was probably going to lose an eye for this.You’re going to look fucking ridiculous with a bleedin’ patch. Setback number three.
“Oh, beloved. I havemissedyou, so.”
* * *
He suspected the retribution coming to him would be swift. Particularly after that moment in the hallway, after they’d both been dismissed from the queen’s chambers.
Nothing was said.
They began walking in step, almost immediately upon entering the corridor. Tate scowled, deliberately mistepping, forcing his feet to walk in the opposite cadence, but then it had soundedtoodeliberate, like a melody and counterpoint, and he had nearly stopped walking altogether. For the briefest moment, he allowed himself to become so incensed over the triviality of their similar gait that he was caught unawares when Cadoc stopped abruptly, the instant they turned a corner.
His arm raised, crushing Tate against the wall, before Tate remembered a beat later thathehad the benefit of strength. Shouldering the arm away was easy, but by then the blade was pressed to his throat.
He went still. Not because he valued his own hide, but because Silva’s coin was still in the possession of his captor. The tip of theblade danced over his skin, moving with a feather-light pressure, almost a tickle. It wasn’t until he felt a bead of blood moving down his neck that he realized that whisper-soft pressure was enough.So bloody predictable. Fucking amateurs.
“How did you get this one?” Cadoc asked, voice full of innocent curiosity. The blade-tip moved from Tate’s eyebrow up through his hair, tracing over the scar he’d had there for decades.
“Because you stabbed me in the fucking eye, you stupid cunt.”
Cadoc’s laughter was a sharp, silver chime, teeth overtaking his face as his smile stretched back. “Well, that doesn’t sound like me atall.” The blade quickly reasserted itself at Tate’s windpipe. “Do you know what the punishment is for death in the Frostbitten Queen’s realm, dear heart?”
