Page 21 of Hijack the Seas: Seismic

“Yes,” Pritkin agreed. “Something that turned out to be a two-edged sword. All those fey volunteering to father sons on the human women—”

“So noble of them,” I murmured furiously.

“—have transmitted some of the strongest magical blood into the mix, and more than occasionally, it has proved dominant.”

“You mean—”

He nodded. “You won’t see that kind here. They’re kept guarding the borders for the most part so that they can die on cue. But if you did, you’d be hard-pressed to pick out the “polluted” from the true-born. It’s one reason they are so obsessed by bloodlines here.”

“And why you’re seen as such a threat.”

“Oh, I’m more than that. Being part human makes me polluted; being half demon makes me a monster. There are plenty here who would prefer to kill me on sight rather than let me compete.”

“Then why don’t they?” I glanced at the nearest tables of people, a few of whom were shooting us poisoned glances as we passed. “They tried hard enough on the way here!”

“Challenge rules. I was protected once I announced my intention to compete for the throne.”

Yeah, it really looked like it.

“Except in the Challenge,” he added. “There, anything goes. But here . . . if they want to murder me, they’ll have to be more subtle about it. Until then, they demean me whenever they can.”

“Like giving you subpar rooms?”

He nodded. “And then there’s this.”

For a moment, I didn’t know what he was talking about. Until I realized that we had stopped by a tiny table that might have sat four in a pinch. It was missing the gorgeous, over-the-top centerpieces that the other tables could boast, along with a tablecloth and cutlery. There were only a couple of plates and a few dull-looking goblets—in pewter when the rest of the tables had gold.

It was the fey equivalent of sitting by the bathroom, or where the door from the kitchen could hit your chair every time a waiter went in or out. We easily had the worst table in the room, which was barely in the room at all, being in a dark spot a good football field away from the brightly lit, elevated area at the far end across from the now distant staircase, where I guessed the beautiful people sat. Or at least, the “pure.”

I looked at the pathetic place they’d planned to stash Pritkin and felt a wash of fury flood over me. He was worth a hundred of them—a thousand! And he had the slashes on his shoulder to prove it!

A demon lord had gotten his claws into him once for saving a couple of slave girls who had ended up in the hells. The demon had kidnapped them, and for a worse fate than the fey intended, planning to drain the life out of them to increase his power. Pritkin had heard about it, and the ensuing battle had been as close as they came, with him receiving the scars he wore to this day.

But he’d survived, rescued the girls, and won the enmity of the Demon High Council in the process, although not for the damage he’d inflicted on one of their own, who they didn’t like anyway. But because he’d broken the cardinal rule—he’d made them afraid—and they’d never forgotten it. It had been one factor in the aforementioned trip to Wales and plenty of other nastiness through the years.

Yet he’d done it anyway; he’d bled to help slaves instead of raping and breeding them! He deserved better than the bastards here, not worse. And frankly, so did I.

So, I moved us—and the table—to an open spot on the brilliantly lit dais and almost scared a poor servant girl to death in the process.

We popped out of nowhere in front of her, and she gave a little shriek, barely holding onto the golden jug she was carrying. And the shriek carried. Because suddenly, the entire huge room was deathly silent.

I ignored them since they deserved no better, picked up one of the pewter goblets, gave it the look it deserved, and held it out to her. “Thanks,” I said as she stared at me wide-eyed.

And then hurriedly filled my cup and Pritkin’s, too, before scurrying off somewhere.

I took my seat. “We’ll pay for that,” Pritkin said, joining me. But his lips were quirking.

“If we’re ever sat there again, so will they,” I said and didn’t bother lowering my voice.

Then I drank my wine, and damn if it didn’t taste divine.

Chapter Seven

Besides us, there were two big tables on the raised expanse and three smaller ones. Of course, “smaller” meant maybe fifty people each, whereas the biggest had to hold several hundred or more. All of whom were glaring at me as if they’d understood my threat.

And maybe they had. I hadn’t been addressing a fey, so my translator hadn’t kicked in. But if anybody in Faerie could speak English, it would be the Alorestri.

One of them, I was sure could, a surprisingly golden-haired guy in the middle of the most extensive table, in a mass of silver robes embroidered with tiny blue carp. He had on silver blue eyeshadow because the Alorestri noblemen seemed to wear as much make-up as their women, but he didn’t look effeminate. In fact, he looked like he might be part human, with a more muscular build than most of the fey could boast and a strong jawline.

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