“I understand your anger,” Tarrah said, brushing her raven hair over her shoulder. “We certainly haven’t handled this as well as we could have. That’s why I thought you might like to join us for dinner in the Great Hall. It will give you a chance to meet everyone.”
Reyna coughed out a bitter laugh. “You must be joking.”
“I’m not. You’ve been kept to your chambers for far too long.”
“I was kept there because ofyou.”
Tarrah pursed her lips. “Well, the offer stands. Join us in the Great Hall and meet the rest of the court. Or stay here. It’s up to you.”
Just to spite her, Reyna wanted to stay in her chambers. Going to dinner almost felt like giving in and accepting this ridiculous situation that she had been forced into against her will. Tarrah acted as though Reyna was suddenly a shadow fae, as if a few words would take the ice from her heart and burn it down to ash.
But Reyna was not dumb. She realized she had been given an opportunity to learn more about the court. At the moment, she knew very little about the shadow fae. She did not know the players in the game, the lords and the ladies, who was loyal to the king. And who wasn’t. There would always be at least one who wasn’t, who had ambitions, who craved power. If she befriended them, they might be willing to help. There might be a way for her to get out of here yet, but she would have to rely on her brains instead of her sword.
And that meant infiltrating the court.
“Fine. I will join you on one condition,” Reyna said.
Tarrah gave her a knowing smile. “I have a feeling I know what that condition is. He won’t be there tonight. I’ll make certain of it.”
“Then, it’s a deal.”
* * *
The Great Hall needed a dusting. It was just as gloomy as the rest of the castle, even with fifty fae crammed inside, filling the space with heat and noise. Sconces lined the walls, all lit by flame. They cast ominous, flickering shadows across the black stone floors, dancing and whorling in the light breeze that poured in from the open windows.
Reyna was led to what she assumed to be the head table, though she would hardly call it that herself. It was an ordinary table crafted from old, spotted wood and had been packed to the brim with courtiers in various states of dress. Some were prim and proper and pristine, wearing courtly attire in varying shades of grey. They wore silken tunics embroidered with deep crimson and glistening jewellery around their necks. The females were expertly dressed in billowing gowns that cut sharply between their breasts.
But then there were the others. They looked as though they’d barely managed to scrape together a clean outfit, some with ragged holes in the knees. Their faces were scrubbed clean, but their hair and nails were long and wild.
At the opposite table, warriors packed in tight. Their laughter boomed; their drinks splashed onto the table.
This was not a standard night at court, that much was certain.
“I thought you might like to sit near me and Nollaig.” Tarrah, still donned in her armor, motioned to a chair by her side. Across the table, Nollaig sat waiting. Her hooded cloak hid every single inch of her from view except the gloved fingers of her right hand.
“Of course,” Reyna said sarcastically. “Why would I want to sit anywhere else?”
She felt Nollaig smile. “Careful, Princess. One might think you were trying to lie.”
“A question is never a lie,” Reyna said, dropping into the chair. “A lesson you should learn since you’re so hell bent on undoing the exile. If you succeed, you’ll lose your ability to lie.”
“You can be frank here,” Tarrah said, settling in beside her. “We know you’re not thrilled to be here. No need to pretend otherwise.”
“Some kings like to execute courtiers who have nothing to speak but insults.”
“Our king won’t hang you,” Tarrah replied, motioning to the food. “I hope you like potatoes. Unfortunately, it’s mostly what we have. Few crops grow beneath the mist. And you know all about our trade issues, so I won’t bore you with that.”
Tarrah had not been exaggerating. Several platters were spread across the packed table. Four of them held different variations of potatoes while only one had meat. There was no fruit or bread or green vegetable in sight. She’d noticed her meals were bland when she’d been kept in her barred chambers. At the time, she thought they were trying to make a point. Now, she knew why. They literally had no other food to eat.
“Don’t you get sick of eating the same thing every night?” Reyna asked, scooping some fried ones, seasoned with rosemary, onto her plate.
“I like potatoes,” Nollaig said.
Tarrah made a face. “When I was a child, I had mashed potatoes for breakfast, boiled potatoes for lunch, and then meat for dinner if we were lucky. Often, we weren’t. I would like nothing more than to eat something else for a change.”
“Enough to make someone your slave apparently,” Reyna said in a faux-chirpy tone, before scowling. She would not feel sorry for these fae. No matter what sad tales they spouted, they were her enemy.
“You are not our slave,” Tarrah insisted.
