“What do you propose?”
“We feed them false information. Various pieces to different groups until we can narrow down the circle they move in.”
“Another trap?” Riordan’s tone did little to conceal his hesitation.
“This trap is one we can monitor ourselves. We’ll watch them closely, and we won’t let anyone else in on what we are doing.”
“What about Eamon and Malesh?” Riordan asked.
“We already know we can trust them, so that’s not an issue.”
My brother considered me for a moment before he grinned. “That’s actually kind of brilliant.”
“You say that as if my plans are ever anything less.”
“I can’t breathe,” he said, his hands flying to his throat as he coughed and wheezed. “Your ego is suffocating me.”
A surprised laugh escaped me, and Riordan’s smile grew. He leaned back against the stone, some of the tension bleeding from his shoulders.
“How long before they strike again?”
“Not long. They’re growing bolder with each attack.” I pushed off the wall, my mind already racing through the logistics. “That’s why I have one more surprise in store for them.”
“And that is?”
“I’m going on the next supply run.”
“Even the Crimson Enclave won’t show their hand if you’re there, Ryker.”
A smirk tilted my lips as a plan formed in my head. “Not if they don’t know it’s me.”
“You’re diabolical, you know that?” Riordan said with a chuckle.
“Thank you.”
“It wasn’t a compliment.”
“I intend to treat it as one.”
My brother rolled his eyes. “First, we need to survive the schemes our father has concocted for this feast.”
Riordan’s words sobered me immediately.
“Whatever his plans, we must protect Cadence at all times. I don’t like his sudden interest in her.”
Riordan nodded in agreement, his earlier lightness replaced by steely determination.
Soon enough, my father would show his hand, and when he did, I would be ready for him.
Chapter Fifty
Cadence
The grand hall glittered as torchlight danced across the crystal goblets arranged along the table. Laughter filled the cavernous space, and I let my eyes flit over the nobles with careful scrutiny. Each tilt of their heads, every twitch of their fingers, andthe fleeting glances they exchanged behind delicate fans were measured, calculating.
Each person here would gladly cast someone else to the wolves for their own advantage. That was what it meant to be Unseelie: loyalty was a luxury no one could afford when betrayal was the currency.
I doubted the Seelie Court was any better. Power was a plague that corrupted quickly, seeping into the very marrow of a soul until kindness became a weakness.
