“Well, I would love to keep you in suspense, but I will likely need assistance sooner or later. I am, unfortunately, out of practice.”
“Perhaps you ought to kidnap more damsels. That way you can make more breakfasts.”
He threw his head back with a loud, cawing laugh. “You are the only prisoner worth having, Mayhem.”
It was a joke, but it reminded me of his words from the revelry:I was created for you. Overburdened as I was with heavy topics, I did not want to ruin this surprisingly peaceful, easy moment by bringing up another, and shuffled it to the back of my mind.
“Clean that pan, if you please,” said Devil, nodding to another shelf, where a dented copper pan sat. I washed it in the sluice, then dried it with a rag. The bottom still held just enough shine for me to see my reflection, and I stepped out of his line of sight to examine my ears. The points were not as extreme as Devil’s, nor as elegant as Titania and Oberon’s, but they were there nonetheless—my very own faerie ears. I became so lost in looking at them that I didn’t notice him watching me over his shoulder.
“They’re new,” I said with a embarrassed shrug, kneeling to place the pan on a nest of glowing embers in the hearth.
“They’re not, actually. You’ve had them your entire life. Titania accidentally removed part of another glamour when she did away with the one I gave you at the revelry.”
I pushed some of the embers around with a poker and thought hard. “Was I glamoured as a baby? So I could pass for human?”
Devil came over to inspect my very tiny, weak fire. “I’m afraid I’m not privy to every detail,” he said with a frown. “You will have to ask Oberon. But first, I’ll need you to stand aside.”
“Why?”
“Because your fire-stoking skills are subpar at best, princess,” he laughed, flicking his fingers and covering my face in flour.
“Oh, you absolute bastard!” I coughed. Without my copper-pan-mirror, I couldn’t see how much was actually coating my face and I tried to brush it away. Once my eyes were clear, however, I went straight for the pile of flour on the table.
“May, don’t you—” But he had nowhere to run, and I covered him from forehead to chest.
“Nowwhose skills are subpar?” I asked, with a giggle that hardly even felt like it came from me. Devil got a mad gleam in his eye as he planted both hands in the flour pile and began backing me toward the opposite wall of the den.
“No, Devil, don’t! I’m sorry! This dress…Arachne will not be—” I let out a shriek and tried to dodge past him, but he grabbed my waist, pushing me up against the edge of the table so he could dump flour along my entire back and into my hair. With a growling laugh, he also reached around and smeared more across my face. I threw an elbow, catching him in the ribs, but that only made his grip on mywaist tighten. He leaned forward, both of us still laughing and gasping, and tried to pull my arm back so I could not take another handful of flour.
But we were suddenly interrupted by a furious shout. “Puck!”
We both stopped at the sight of a shadowy figure standing by the stairs, blocking most of the light with a pair of enormous wings. To my absolute horror, I realized what a compromising position we were in: Devil standing at my back, bending me forward over the table, pinning my wrist down. Anyone walking in would certainly think there was something untoward going on. I wrenched myself away and stood behind Devil just as Antenor took a step forward. The heat of embarrassment turned icy cold when I realized he had his sword drawn.
“You filthy animal!” he roared at Devil, who stood back, smiling and brushing flour off himself casually. “I told Lord Oberon you weren’t to be trusted!”
“Captain,” I said, in what I hoped was an authoritative voice. “It is absolutelynotwhat you think, please. We were just—”
“Playing,” Devil finished with a malicious smile. “Something you might understand, if women allowed you to be anywhere near them.” With a snarl, Antenor actually lunged at him, but Devil side-stepped and threw out his wing. It caught Antenor hard on the arm, knocking his sword to the ground, where Devil slipped his foot beneath the lower part of the blade and kicked it into the air. When he caught it by the hilt, he leveled it at Antenor and placed the tip on his throat.
“Now,” he said calmly, “care to explain what you are doing in my home uninvited, Captain Cockroach?”
“Lord Oberon sent me for Marina,” Antenor breathed, “sinceyouhave decided to flout his orders so many times…it was unclear if your loyalties had shifted.”
Devil let out another barking laugh and tossed the sword onto the sandy dirt floor. “A half-decent attempt to rattle me, you spineless twat. I spoke to Oberon only this morning and he has been assured of my loyalty, which does extend to himandhis family.” He stepped to the side and held an arm out, clearly indicating me. Antenor’s gaze shifted, then widened in recognition when he saw my real face for the first time.
“So, itistrue,” he whispered, dropping dramatically onto his knees. “Lyric’s child survived…Oberon said, but…I did not want to believe…” I was shocked to see tears gathering in his eyes, and glanced at Devil, who gave a tiny shake of his head.
“You knew my mother?” I asked softly. Antenor’s hands folded in his lap, while his head and wings drooped.
“My sweet cousin,” he murmured. “She was more like a sister to me than my own sisters ever were.” He pushed himself up, then gathered his sword and wiped it on his trousers while Devil just rolled his eyes. I sucked in a breath to reply, but flour shot up my nose, making me sneeze and cough violently. When I finally regained some composure, Devil was standing beside me, holding out a cup of water.
“You are welcome to leave at your earliest convenience,” he snapped at Antenor. “I think May can manage feeding and dressing herself without supervision. Tell Lord Oberon I will bring her when she is ready.”
Antenor’s jaw tensed, and he spoke to me, rather than Devil. “I am at your service, Lady Marina, as I was at your mother’s.”
“Thank you, Captain,” I murmured. He left the den and I doggedly avoided Devil’s gaze, unsure what on earth had possessed me to behave that way with him. It was clear he was in no mood to discuss it either, since he quietly returned to the ball of dough sitting on the table, pulling chunks off and rolling them between his palms.
“In the cooling pot,” he said after a minute, “you’ll find some sheep cheese.” He pointed to the spot where the water sluice went back into the wall of the den, and I saw that the cooling pot had been turned into a clever sort of fountain. Water from the sluice trickled gently into the packed sand between double-layered pots, then drained out a copper spigot into a barrel sitting below. A way to keep food coolandfilter the creek water for drinking. Inside the pot were several cloth bundles full of fruit, tubers, or mushrooms. The one on top contained chunks of soft, crumbly cheese, with a tangy smell that made my mouth water. I brought it out and set it on the table beside Devil’s rather haphazard rows of dough balls.
