Page 38

“Greetings, folk of my Court. As you see, we have among us tonight some unexpected guests.”

Everyone turned to look at Clary and Dru, even Rathna and the twins. Dru had not noticed them staring before; they must have been told there would be Shadowhunters at the banquet. She had been foolish to think they hadn’t all been avidly wondering what on earth she and Clary were doing there. The only person who didn’t seem interested was Ash. He sat back in his chair, idly playing with a ring on his finger, a broad band of hammered gold.

The Queen continued. “We welcome Clarissa Fairchild”—there was a faint murmur at Clary’s name—“and Drusilla Blackthorn and invite them to take part in the hospitality of Faerie. It is so important for hospitality to be extended in matters of parlay.”

One almost had to admire it, Dru thought, the way faeries lied without lying. Surely it was important to extend hospitality when it came to peace talks, but that was not at all why Dru and Clary were there.

“For too long,” the Queen said, her voice smooth as silk, “the Nephilim have had the upper hand in our negotiations. It is high time the Shadowhunters were reminded that the fey are a proud people. One who will no longer be subject to their whims. Either they shall deal with us as equals, or not at all.” The Queen’s gaze slipped to Dru. Her eyes were an almost unearthly shade of blue. “Whether they will prove their worth in such important matters remains to be seen, of course,” she added. “Meanwhile, please enjoy the feast.”

As the Queen went to sit down in her throne-like chair, followed by a silent Janus, an uncertain cheer rose from the banquet guests. A black-haired faerie in a blue velvet doublet, seated a few seats away, scowled. “If this is a parlay, then why are the ways closed to the mortal world?”

“The Queen does not intend them shut forever,” said Ash, still twirling his ring. “Be patient, Rat. You’ll be back at your unsavory pursuits in the mortal world soon enough.”

Rat seemed about to object, but Ash smiled at him. As Dru watched, Rat’s sullen expression changed—not to one of fear, but of admiration. Almost adoration.

“You are right, my Prince,” Rat said. “You are always right.”

Ash’s smile tightened. Scary, thought Dru: how casually he used his power, as if altering people’s thoughts and feelings was a commonplace thing to do. And strange, that he didn’t seem to have that effect on her. There was nothing special about her, so why didn’t she want to please him the way others did? It was an odd stroke of luck and she wondered if it had anything to do with their previous meetings—the ones she’d forgotten.

The murmur of conversation began to fill the cavern once more. Callen gestured, and one of the barefoot serving maids hurried over to refill his glass, and then Ash’s. When she paused by Dru, her voice was so faint that Dru had to lean in to hear it. “Some wine, my lady?”

Dru nodded, more to be polite than because she really wanted any. The wine smelled of honey and pepper. “Thank you,” she said, but the barefoot faerie was already hurrying away, head down.

The food had begun to arrive, too, arranged on massive serving platters carried by the same faeries in gray. Dru eyed it dubiously. There were grapes that looked like green glass orbs, roasted pork stuffed with sugared plums, and sliced fruits glimmering like jewels on a bed of treacle and cream. Faeries certainly did like sweet things.

Ash leaned over to whisper in her ear. He smelled of wine and honey. “If you’re worried the food is enchanted, don’t be,” he said. “The Queen doesn’t want you remaining in Faerie any longer than you must.”

Dru turned to look at him. He was dizzyingly close to her; she could see a small silvery scar on the side of his throat that she’d never noticed before. “That’s not why I don’t want it,” she said.

Ash glanced down the table toward the place where the Queen sat. On her left, Janus sat close to Clary, who had her head bent over her plate.

Ash rose to his feet. He held out a hand to Dru, who stared at it for a moment, not understanding. “I’d like to show you some of the carvings here,” he said, neutrally. “A bit of Faerie history.”

Dru hesitated. Wasn’t there an old joke like this? Come up and see my etchings? Not that Ash was trying to seduce her. What had Cuan said about mortals? Rotting from the inside. Ash probably found her revolting.

But Dru didn’t have the luxury of hesitation, she reminded herself. You want to please him. You want to make him happy. She took his hand, let him help her to her feet. She could hear the murmuring among the gathered fey as they crossed the room. “Look at the Prince with that Shadowhunter,” someone said, and then, “I heard she is the sister of the Unseelie King’s consort. Scandalous!” Another whisper, “How much lovelier the Prince is than any Shadowhunter,” and someone else, speaking in a low voice that almost chilled her: “Yes, the Prince is beautiful, but they say he has no heart. They say the old King took it.”

If Ash heard that, he showed no sign of it as he led her over to a bas-relief of what looked like a battle, carved painstakingly into the side of the cavern.

“I see,” Dru said, trying to look interested in the art. “I guess this is some sort of historically important battle, or—”

“It’s the battle that split Faerie in half,” said Ash. He was standing with his hands looped behind his back, ostentatiously examining the relief. With his pale hair and silver-shot white tunic, he looked like a striking ghost. Dru had thought his hair was impossibly fine before, but that was only its light color. It was thick enough to curl loosely in the heat of the room. “It was a war between two brothers. They were meant to be loyal to one another, but instead they turned on each other. In the end, Faerie became two kingdoms, and the only rightful Heir to the united throne fled.”

“Auraline,” said Dru, and Ash gave her a narrow look. She shrugged, and lied. “I learned about her in my History of Faerie class.”

“For Faerie, it is not only history. Since Auraline fled, they—we—have always believed that a new King would come and unite Faerie again. In fact, he will be the last King of Faerie, ruling forever, I suppose. And my mother would like it to be me.”

“You?” Drusilla said, and corrected herself quickly: “But you are not of the lineage of Auraline.”

“The High Throne does not require me to be.”

“Ah. Well, I’m sure you’d be a very good High King of Faerie.”

“No doubt,” he said, dryly. “It is unlikely to happen, in any case. Until the true crown of the High King is found, no one can sit upon the great throne. And it has been lost for centuries.”

“Is that what you brought me over here to say?” Dru asked.

“Of course not.” He looked grim. “Listen to me. When the Queen is around, the best thing you can do is keep your head down. If she serves you food, eat it. If she says it’s time for dancing, dance. Don’t do anything to make her notice you.”