Page 73 of Hidden

“That’s appalling.”

“The Undead are particularly susceptible. After a thousand years, any new experience has great appeal.”

Lila swallowed hard, feeling something inside her erode beneath his words. Maybe it was innocence.

“How do you know all this?” She studied Farras. “Are you the Magician?”

There was a beat of silence. “No. No, I am not.”

There was no hint of falsehood in the words. Lila wasn’t sure if she was reassured or disappointed. “Then how do you know his business?”

“It is my business to know everything,” he replied. “Especially when there aren’t many strings in the fae world that the Magician can’t pull. And before you ask me if I intend to stop him, the answer is yes, if the opportunity presents itself, and if I believe it is to my advantage.”

“And not because it would spare so many deaths?” Lila’s tone grew sharp.

A snatch of song drifted through the window. Someone outside had a flute.

He gave a low laugh. “Is the foolishness of strangers my responsibility?”

“Those who have much, owe much to their fellows.”

“Ah, schoolroom morality.” He began to pace again, but this time he moved closer, giving her no room to step out of his way. “Are you truly so unaware of your position? I believe I heard Galeeta mention your father’s situation.”

Lila stiffened until her calf muscles hurt. “She said you would appeal to the king on his behalf.”

“And your cooperation is the price of my aid.” He smiled, though it held no warmth.

“Cooperation?” she asked, glancing past him toward the door as footsteps sounded outside. No one came in.

“You will support both our houses.”

She swallowed down bile. The smell of wine was starting to turn her stomach. “What support can I possibly offer you?”

The clean lines of Farras’s face grew sharp. “The only reason I would assist your father is because he belongs to House Fernblade. What your family lacks in fortune is more than balanced by a long magical lineage.”

She gave a hollow laugh that sounded more like a moan. “And having us as allies would somehow boost your power base? Don’t you have power enough?”

“I think that question has already been asked and answered today. Power is an infinite good. All species understand it, whether it’s gold or land or the right to deflower every bride in the village.” He lightly brushed her cheek with his fingertips, laughing under his breath when she flinched away. “Ultimately, it guarantees survival. Your enemy’s throat is in your jaws instead of the other way around.”

Lila jumped as the door opened suddenly, allowing a wash of conversation to enter. Beneath it, she heard the gong announcing the next course. With a frown, Farras turned to see who had disturbed them. Lila sidestepped enough to see it was Ademar, leaning on his cane. High color flushed his cheeks and the top few buttons of his tunic were undone. It was plain he’d been enjoying the wine Farras had brought from his estates in straw-packed crates.

“Ademar!” she said, putting an urgent plea in her voice.

“Lila?” He frowned at the clothes she’d pilfered from his private room. “What is going on?”

She surged toward her brother, eager for any excuse to get away from Farras. The fae lord gripped her elbow before she could get more than a handful of steps.

“We’re enjoying a private conversation,” Farras replied. “I heard the summons to return to the feast. You should go. We’ll join you when we’re done here.”

Lila widened her eyes, silently pleading for Ademar’s aid. That look had always worked when they’d been children—her big brother had never failed to come to her rescue. Even now, when he acknowledged her with the slightest nod, she had hope.

“Did you have a reason to interrupt us?” Farras asked Ademar in a pointed tone.

Ademar bowed, leaning heavily on his cane. “My apologies, milord, there was supposed to be hot wine to serve guests seated in the garden. I promised my mother I would personally find out why it failed to appear.”

Farras waved a dismissive hand. “Galeeta is free to place the blame at my feet.”

Ademar bowed again, catching Lila’s gaze one last time. “Again, I am sorry for the interruption.”

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