Page 160 of A Sin So Pure

“So sad about the late Pride,” Oonagh croons my way. She speaks as she cuts, her knife scraping back and forth througha chunk of near-rare meat. Lifting one piece, her lips wrap around the fork and she hums, chewing and swallowing before continuing. “But he wasn’treallyyour father.”

Her lips curve into a devious smile, her questions spearing right through any pretense we were keeping between us; twice now, she’s made jabs at my real heritage.

The queen thinks she’s a cat and I’m a mouse.

She’ll soon find out I’m a wolf in disguise.

“No.” I clear my throat, dabbing the edge of my mouth with my napkin. “He took me in when I was a youngling.”

Imogen’s knee bumps mine under the table, the contact a steady comfort.

“Very kind of him,” Oonagh says. “I don’t remember him being a kind man.”

“He wasn’t.”

“Yet he still took an orphan in to carry on his legacy?” The queen laughs, causing the rest of the Seelie at the table to chuckle. Patience joins in, a smug smile plastered across his face. “Seems like a silly thing to do.”

“You could say I offered him more than a child born of his own blood would have,” I say.

“She is quite talented,” Silas quips.

“As we’ve heard,” the queen croons. “We thought it would be good entertainment for tonight.”

Silas’s knife pauses halfway through his piece of chicken.

“Oh?” he says, putting both utensils down. Now they’ve hooked him.

The queen is absolutely delighted, having his attention. She leans across the table, spearing us both with a conspiratorial look.

“I want to see it in person, if you will humor me,” Oonagh says. Then she turns her head towards her Virtues. “Charity, dear, will you bring in our sacrifice for the night?”

“Sacrifice?” Imogen whispers at my side. Her hand has meandered to my knee, where her nails dig into my flesh through the fabric.

“Oh, don’t worry, darling. We don’t make it a habit of sacrificing people on Solstice.” Oonagh waves away our worry. “You don’t mind, do you, Pride?”

I think loud and clear for Josie to calm Imogen down, as all eyes are on me and I can’t do it myself. Out of my periphery I see Josie lean in, whispering in Imogen’s ear, and I feel Imogen’s nails retreat from my leg. All the while, I shoot Oonagh a smile.

“Of course not,” I say.

“See? She doesn’t mind,” Oonagh says to Silas, who is pitting her with a glare.

Then the Seelie doors burst open again, two guards dragging a disgruntled fae between them. His wrists are chained in iron, not unlike how we had our prisoners restrained at Mt. Bramble. The only difference being that this one is Seelie, and we don’t know if his crimes justify the punishment.

I look to Silas for guidance.

He doesn’t seem happy about it, but he nods anyway. Approval to play along.

The Seelie guards stop at the center of the dance floor, forcing the prisoner to his knees. His sobs fill the room, a somber sight for a day that’s supposed to be a celebration.

I stand, pushing in my chair after myself. I make a show of pulling off my gloves, placing them in Silas’s outstretched hand. I hope he can read the thank you in my eyes before I turn and walk to the prisoner. My heels are a rhythmic beat behind the melody of his sobs.

I don’t waste any time.

My magic is already waiting and hungry at my fingertips.

I simply graze his forehead, his clammy skin brushing against mine. My magic rushes forward, clogging his veins and overloading his heart.

The Seelie crumbles to the ground and silence echoes in the space.

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