Imogen’s mouth dropped open. She pointed at the King, and then at me. “You twoare...”
“We are nothing,” I hissed. I knew how this probably looked to her. Like some kind of lover’squarrel.
“Have you slept with him?” shewhispered.
I scoffed. “No. Of course not. I barely even know him. Besides, he’s not mytype.”
My type definitely did not involve cocky arseholes with perfect dark hair, gorgeous cheekbones, and back muscles that were something straight out of Greek Godartwork.
Imogen didn’t look convinced, and I didn’t want to hear anymore. I grabbed the mop and bucket, and got to work. But the feel of his skin on my neck was much harder to drown out. I could still feel where his fingers had touched me, like they’d left behind an impression, amark.
I needed to get agrip.
* * *
“Saoirse, we need to talk.”
My new—and only—friend froze halfway through the doorframe. Her purple eyes furtively cast for an answer to my sudden demand, darting from one corner of my room to thenext.
“What’s happening?” she finally asked, though she made no move to slither furtherinside.
I flicked my eyes to the hallway behind her. Several fae passed by. A green-haired female slowed to eavesdrop on our conversation. With all the enhanced hearing flying around this place, the only way to have a private conversation was with the door firmlyshut.
“Come inside,” I insisted. “I don’t want anyonelistening.”
She pondered my request for a moment, but then hurried inside. When the door was finally shut, I spilled out my words. “The night of my trial, there was someone else in thevaults.”
She pressed her lips together, crossed the room, and peered out the tiny window at the cliffs below. Nothing about her expression screamed surprise. So, Saoirse already knew. Another point in the Lughcolumn.
“Are you going to say anything?” Iasked.
She turned to face me. “This isn’t a conversation that I can have with you. You need to ask theKing.”
“I tried,” I said plaintively. “But he refuses to talk aboutit.”
“Then, I’m afraid I can’t help you.” She let out a tiny sigh, crossed the room again, and peered out the tiny peephole in the door. Then, she turned to face me. “Look, all you need to know is that not everyone in this Court can betrusted.”
Shock hit me square in the gut. Well, that was certainly the last direction I expected this conversation to take. I’d dragged her in here wanting to know answers about Lugh’s spear, and instead we were talking about something else...and I didn’t quite understand what thatsomething elsewas justyet.
I furrowed my brows. “What are you talkingabout?”
Her purple eyes slid to the door. “It’s hard to hide things in a place likethis.”
“Because of the...” I tapped myears.
She nodded. “We have protective wards on the doors, but they don’t block outeverything.”
“Are you trying to say that someone is listening to our conversation right now?” I asked in a harshwhisper.
“Maybe.” She shrugged, seeming far more at ease about this whole thing than I felt. Sure, I’d used my own enhanced hearing to my advantage many times before, but suddenly it felt like my every move was being watched. And I didn’t like it. “The thing is, we can’t know every time someone is listening. So, it’s best to keepmum.”
Mum about the spear. And mum about thevaults.
Suddenly, life in this Court started to make a lot more sense. Everyone had a furtive look about them. No one spoke of things out loud. There were meaningful glances everywhere but never meaningful words. It was hard to imagine why until now. Not everything was sunshine and roses in the Court of Wraiths. There were traitors amongst the traitors, and they didn’t know who theywere.
“Can we talk somewhere else?” I asked. There was so much I needed to know, and it seemed like Saoirse was willing to tell me—as long as there was no risk we’d beoverheard.
“There’s only one place in the castle that cannot be breached by fae ears,” she said in a low, meaningfulvoice.
