Page 29 of Fortune's Blade

“—not to mention that the dark fey court has a disputed succession right now, ever since their king was kidnapped by the Svarestri. At least, that’s the rumor; nobody really knows what happened to the old bastard—”

“Aren’t you dark fey?” Louis-Cesare asked, trying to keep up, and received a purely vicious look in return.

“We are Dragonkind!” Tanet snarled. “We don’t mix with mongrel scum—”

“You liked those ‘mongrel scum’ well enough when visiting me,” Claire said pertly, helping herself to salad. “Olga took you to work so her partner could give you a haircut, remember? And Sven taught you how to play troll chess—”

“I didn’t mean them—”

“Who then? The ogres? Because you enjoyed their stew when we visited the enclave, to the point of saying that you’d dreamed about it later, and you played ball with their children. Or maybe you meant the duergars, who fixed your belt for you, and whose skill you highly praised. Or the brownies—”

“I wasn’t speaking of the ones who fled to Earth!” Tanet said. “You won’t be dealing with them! It’s the bastards who are still here that you have to worry about, and you do have to worry.”

“Why?” Louis-Cesare said sharply. “What would the dark fey want with us?”

“Nothing!” Tanet said, looking exasperated. “But you’re walking into a hell of a mess. The Svarestri took the dark fey king to exploit the rifts in their society, and ensure that they’d end up in a civil war and not be able to spare troops for the greater conflict. And they got exactly what they wanted. Fighting hasn’t broken out yet, but it’s only a matter of time. You could easily find yourself venturing into a war zone inside of a war zone, looking for someone who’s probably already—”

He cut off, but he didn’t need to finish the sentence.

We all knew what he meant.

I’d helped myself to something that looked like a spinach quiche but probably wasn’t, and had been trying to decide between a salad or some unknown fruit as a side dish, in an attempt to stimulate my appetite. But at that I put my utensils down. I couldn’t eat right now, not with anxiety clawing at my insides as efficiently as any dragon.

“Let’s change the subject,” Claire said, shooting me a glance. And then shied back from a fine spray of blood from the feast taking place in the air outside our little nook.

Her father’s expansive dining room was next to ours, visible because of the curve in the wall, and because it took up a third of the space on this level, which seemed to be the most prestigious in the hall. So, I supposed it made sense that the show was being concentrated here. But the screaming, clawing and ripping sounds were less than appetizing, and were only somewhat muffled by the surrounding stone. Along with the roars of the crowd as someone stole someone else’s dinner and started a chase around the great space with it.

Pigs literally flew, being carried in massive claws and thrown from diner to diner in an epic game of keep away. Their terrified squeals combined with flowing rivers of varied colored scales, claws and gleaming teeth; with wildly whipping tails and ear-piercing shrieks; with skewing firelight from an ornate lamp on a chain swinging outside of our cave that had been brushed by the battle and was now sending weird shadows dancing over us; and with the pervasive smells of blood and viscera and worse. The combination would have put me off any lingering idea of food if I wasn’t already there, and if everything hadn’t just been hazed by a mist of red.

I glanced at Louis-Cesare, who was leaning back against his cushion, drinking wine and watching the show. If he was bothered by it, he gave no outward sign. I accepted a refill from a servant and tried to appear equally unruffled.

Tanet, on the other hand, barely seemed to register it, as he must have seen similar displays many times. Instead, he was watching his sister. I expected him to push the go-home narrative some more, but he surprised me, agreeing with her desire for a new topic of conversation.

Only she didn’t like this one any better.

“You might enjoy yourself more if you let loose a little.” He nodded at her plate, which she’d somehow kept free from the sauce of battle. “Eat the food—not the food’s food—”

“I’ll eat what I like and go where I choose!” Claire said hotly.

“But you don’t like it.” He leaned over the table, suddenly enough that it could almost be called a lunge. “You hate every mouthful, or part of you does. Stop eating slop and risking your neck for off-worlders and come be with us. Really be with us for once and learn who you truly are. Or are you afraid you might enjoy it?”

“I know who I am,” Claire snapped, and aggressively ate lettuce at him.

He sighed and leaned back on one elbow, before deliberately tipping over the bowl with the remaining dormice, allowing them to scatter everywhere.

I reared back slightly, as did Louis-Cesare. Which was a normal enough reaction when a bunch of rodents scarpers at you across a dining table. But Claire . . . did not.

I saw her nose twitch and her eyes flood purple. And the next moment, a dormouse was hanging out of her mouth, its tiny, startled face looking out from between her suddenly sharper than usual teeth. Everyone froze.

That included Claire, who just sat there, her eyes huge and flooding back to their normal green, while the tiny, furry creature started struggling desperately. And then fell to the table and bolted off when Claire abruptly released it. She got up before anyone could say anything and ran off herself, heading for the doorway to the stairs, and I followed with Tanet’s voice echoing behind us.

“You can’t run forever, Claire. Come back. Come back and join us!”

Chapter Ten

Claire did not go back, nor did she go down. But rather upward, following the stairs on a winding course past numerous rooms filled with rowdy diners, pushing past half transformed servants, and slipping on bloody footprints—both clawed and humanoid. Until she erupted out of the last stairwell onto the ramparts at the very top of the tower, which were looking out over a magnificent sunset.

I followed, my steps unconsciously slowing because of the view. It made me grateful for my short hair, which mostly stayed out of my eyes despite the wind. Claire’s, on the other hand, was blowing like a banner and had turned a brilliant, flame red in the light of the sun’s impressive finale.

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