Page 18 of The Realm That Falls to Her

For a moment, I think I catch a glimpse of approval. Then he just nods. “I taught you well. But I wonder how you’d do with a battle raging around you and more distractions than just him,” he says, nodding at Destan.

My smugness drains away and I sigh. What did I expect? Praise, from this man who’s been so closed off and wary since I brought him back from Interra?

“I’ve had to conjure with plenty of distractions in the past. You don’t need to worry about me,” I say, dislodging the cone and tucking the knife back into my boot.

“I hope not,” he says, and the way he says it makes me look up. For once, I think there’s no double meaning there. It gives me hope that he actually seems worried about my welfare. Could it be the bond has him retaining some of his feelings for me? Maybe he cares for me more than he’s letting on, even if he doesn’t understand the reason for it.

I smile at him, the idea a single flame in the darkness. Ruskin blinks at my grin, and his eyes grow slightly unfocused, like I’ve dazzled him. It lasts for just a second, though, before his eyebrows bunch and he reaches forward. It’s like I can feel his fingers on me before he even touches me, and that spark is back, dancing between our skin. I stiffen, unprepared for such close contact, but with a light shiver, the tension gives way to confusion as he traces a finger along the tip of my ear. I’m about to ask what he’s doing when Destan coughs loudly.

“We should get going. Whether Eleanor’s a master knife thrower or not, let’s not linger out here in the wilds longer than we have to.”

Ruskin drops his hand and abruptly stands to start walking back down to the horses.

“Lionsvale is right. We have an Unseelie king to win over.”

We ride through the night, until the morning comes, and I start to recognize the shape of the mountains in front of us, spotting the balconies and cloisters of the Unseelie Court embedded into them.

I take a deep breath, wondering if we’ll manage to get from here to an audience with Lisinder without incident. Ruskin and I weren’t very popular when we left.

I hear a sad sigh from Destan behind me.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, turning to see him staring miserably up at the Unseelie architecture.

“It just looks so cold and damp,” he complains.

“It’s better inside,” I promise, for once more in the know about this aspect of Faerie than him. But I can’t promise him we’ll receive a warm welcome. Especially not when Pyromey, Lisinder’s niece, meets us at the gates to the court, her usual cadre of scarred warriors behind her.

“I have to say, I didn’t think we’d be seeing you again so soon.” Her viper eyes dance over us. “And you brought a friend too.” She smiles at Destan, who looks far from comforted at the gesture.

“We need to speak with His Majesty, King Lisinder,” Ruskin says, taking the fact that he’s supposed to know this woman in stride.

Pyromey tuts. “So formal,” she says. “Your uncle is already waiting for you. We spotted you several miles back. Follow me.” She turns and starts walking through the arch that marks the entrance to the Court.

“Oh, and if you could avoid murdering anyone on the way, that would be great,” Pyromey adds, and I’m hit with a sense of déjà vu as we’re led deeper into the mountain.

Chapter 6

“You’re lucky I’m able to receive you at court at all,” says Lisinder, looking down at us with a mixture of reprimand and curiosity. His bone crown shines in the faerie lights of the vast throne room. This time we aren’t subjected to a full audience of the Unseelie Court, but the lowest rows of the staggered seats are filled with faces I recognize—close relations and advisers of the king’s that I met when we were here last. “But fortunately, we were able to find the fae who made the moon orb used to intoxicate you, nephew. He confessed, and since that magic has been banned for many centuries, he has been dealt with. It has been enough to exonerate your actions…with most of the court.”

A surge of relief hits me at his words. That was the first obstacle I’d been worried about. There was a genuine possibility that the moment we arrived back here, Lisinder would be forced to put us on trial. Even that would be preferable to going back to face Evanthe—who wouldn’t bother with such trifles as a fair trial before dispensing her version of justice. But still, I’m just as happy to skip it.

Nevertheless, the incident on the mountain is still unsettling. It proved the enemies we have here in Unseelie are ruthless. I glance at Ruskin. He’s keeping his words to a minimum—smart, seeing as he can’t actually remember the incident in question, but a thought occurs to me. Kasgill didn’t seem to know what to expect from the moon orb—certainly the attack didn’t go the way he expected, seeing as he and his friends wound up dead at Ruskin’s hands. But what if that was the point? It seems I’m the only one who can ask the relevant questions, so I pipe up.

“Do you believe he was working alone, Your Majesty? I mean, aside from the three who actually committed the attack?”

Lisinder’s mouth twists downwards, confirming my theory. “No. He did not supply the orb to Kasgill Flintspark directly, nor to his accomplices. Unfortunately, he refused to say who, exactly, had employed him to create it.”

I look around at the fae in the room, wondering who among them are our enemies. We’re only trading one kind of danger for another.

“I thank you, Uncle, for addressing this issue, and receiving us again so graciously in your kingdom.” I watch Ruskin, impressed he’s doing such a good job of pretending like he’s ever had a conversation with Lisinder before.

Lisinder shifts in his seat. “I’d slow down, if I were you. You haven’t even told me why you’re here yet.”

“Partly for the same reason we were here before, my Lord,” I jump in. “We seek the advice of Maidar Cragfoot, after injuries sustained in battle.”

Lisinder looks to Destan, who is standing stiff as a poker, looking intensely out of place among all these rough Unseelie. He’s still wearing his sling.

“What is wrong with your arm, sir…?”

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