Silva nodded with another grim smile of her own.Of course.Nothing here could be trusted. They would gladly sell her a sunbeam, omitting that it would burn her hand until she had already paid. “That’s what I suspected. I’m not looking for flowers today. I’m wondering what you might know about traveling to the Court of Autumn?”
“Information isn’t free, dearest.”
Silva feigned a disappointed expression. “Yes, well . . . I don’t trade time or memories. Idohave this to trade, but it might not be what you’re interested in . . .”
The ceramic rabbit was hideous. It could have been precious, something she would have bought for her own daughter’s shelf — small and white, its fur coated with a mother-of-pearl overlay and wearing a crown of tiny flowers, each blossom hand-painted a different color, with twenty-four carat gold centers . . . but the bright blue eyes seemed to bulge out grotesquely, and its long, painted front teeth were more threatening than twee.
She had been able to hear his snort at her back as she stood before the rabbit that day at the sale, felt the heat of his breath against the shell of her ear.
“What are you planning on doing with that, dove? Cause enough nightmares to ensure she doesn’t leave our bed until university? That’s a monster straight from Tír na nÓg.”
His long arm was wrapped around her, lifting her bump as he spoke, his long-fingered hand splayed protectively over the swell. She had dropped her head back, supported by his strong, buffeting presence behind her, and it had been so real, the smell of him so near, that her eyes had filled with tears when they fluttered open a heartbeat later, seeing her reflection in the mirror behind the rabbit, completely alone.
That’s what she was — utterly alone in the world, her and her little wing both.And you will be until he comes home.
She’d avoided touching the hideous thing with her bare hand, wrapping it in a lace-trimmed linen napkin to carry to the little makeshift check-out, and had not removed it from the tissue paper it had been rolled in since.
“It’s just a little trinket, but the flowers do seem rather at home here . . .”
The fae girl behind the table of promises and obligations gasped as Silva unwrapped the ceramic figure, her hands going to her mouth as it was unveiled in all its macabre glory. She bounced giddily in her seat, flapping her arms excitedly when Silva held it out.
“Sold! Gimme gimme gimme!” She yanked the rabbit from Silva’s outstretched hand, cuddling it to her cheek, her thick lashes fanning out as her eyes closed and she sighed dramatically. “Oh, Ilovehim.”
Silva waited with a small smile, clearing her throat after a moment.
The girl’s eyes popped open. “Yes, of course. Very good trade, beloved. You came well prepared. The court . . . you don’t want to go to Autumn. No one survives the court unless you’re invited by the Bonfire Queen.”
“And even then,” added the fae from the next table, stepping around the canvas flap to join the conversation. She was older than the first girl, tall and slender with rich brown skin and glowing, pale blue eyes. She shoved the smaller fae over, sharing her seat. The little blonde was too enthralled with her trinket, still holding it to her cheek, to care. “If you’re chosen for the games, it doesn’t matter if you’re an honored guest. You’ll be cut down just the same.”
“The games,” Silva echoed. She had no idea what that meant, only that he seemed so very far away from her.I suspect you will be excellent sport.
“Thehunt,” the woman from the other table clarified meaningfully.
“I don’t have anything to trade with you,” Silva added quickly, realizing this conversation had just increased in cost. To her shock, the other woman waved away her words.
“Gossip is free when I’m bored.”
“No one survives the hunt,” the younger girl went on, still cuddling the rabbit. “Remember that girl they turned into a fox? She made it all the way to our border. I could hear her screaming when he finally caught her. Presented the tail to their Lady.”
“The tail was all that was left, I heard.”
“He.” Silva was careful not to frame it as a question.Don’t ask for more if they’ve already given what they intend. She had the horrible suspicion that she already knew the answer to the question she wasn’t asking. The man beside the little pool, the beautiful man who shared Tate’s smile. Her spine shivered, a tiny voice calling from behind a locked door in her mind that she needed to run.
The two fae exchanged a loaded look. “Him,” the girl emphasized in a stage whisper. “The Bonfire Queen’s consort.”
“Cadoc the cruel and lovely,” the other went on seamlessly.
“That’s not his title, of course, but it should have been. He’sverybeautiful, but—”
“—Verycruel. Loves the hunt. Quick to draw blood, but slow to finish the job.”
“He enjoys his worktoomuch,” the younger girl added. “He brings the long night to your world, payment for the flowers and Summer’s wastefulness—”
“Prats. Wasteful, slovenly prats, that's what they are in Summer.”
“—and then our first rider takes it back.”
“Liam the long.” The older fae rolled her eyes. “Not as cruel, but not as lovely, either.”
