The question felt like a punch to the gut knowing what I did, but Ander had expected it; he absorbed it without even blinking. “I will follow Cara and Fieran of Clan Bismyth into battle against the queen.”
The room was tilting in Fear’s favor. He had never looked as if he were losing confidence, but now he smiled at me. His hand fell at the small of my back, the two of us standing together, united.
Leaders of Bismyth.
The future king and queen.
A pair of accomplished liars.
“I will not help you,”Lightbringer hissed into my mind.
I had no doubt that if someone demanded proof dropped some evil Fae lord at my feet, Lightbringer would happily leave me to be humiliated.
But face to face with the queen?
Lightbringer would reach through me and rip out the queen’s powers.
If she could. Ifwecould.
There were so many questions, but for now, I kept smiling.
“Obsidian will not follow Fieran.” Seine, Obsidian’s first, rose to his feet. “He talks of the queen’s cruelty when he is the reason for it.”
Here we were.
Voices exploded, arguing, and I felt the room shift again around us. I looked at Fear, trying carefully to keep the desperation that I felt from my face.
“Obsidian’s losses are terrible,” Fieran said. “And we can make the queen pay.”
“Youshould pay!” Colm stepped forward, his cheeks flushed hot. “You’re the one who stole the knife! You’re the one who caused the queen to unleash this punishment!”
“Nothing you can do will change what you cost us,” one of the shifters in the back from Obsidian snarled.
“Nothing will bring back your dead, but you have the power to protect the rest of your clan,” Fear said calmly.
Whatever he was going to say next was not going to be enough. I could feel the room sliding away from us like shifting rubble beneath our feet.
Obsidian had burned their dead today, and yesterday, and the day before, because of us. The clans knew it. Fear was touched by death, earlier and now. They would not follow to their deaths.
Ander was already on his feet. “Clan Bismyth did not steal the knife.”
Fear’s fingers flexed against the small of my back, though that was the only surprise he allowed himself. His face was still, interested and handsome. He gave nothing away.
Ander was calm, resolute. “I have had control of the knife the entire time.”
“Then why are there these stories of the mortal cutting out enchantments?” someone demanded.
“Because I allowed Cara—who was part of Clan Amber and will always have a place with us—to wield the knife. Only a mortal can. I cannot wield it and neither can any of you.” He looked around the room. “But it is my knife. I am the one who controls its use.”
He drew it from his scabbard.
Obsidian was on their feet, every member of the clan straining forward toward him though they were not undisciplined enough to strike. “That is ours!”
“It is not,” Ander said coolly, replacing it in the sheath. “And bringing it to the queen now—even if you were able to take possession of it—would not change her punishment.”
“I’m willing to try,” Colm barked out.
“Then you are willing to die here and now and save the queen the trouble,” Ander promised them.
