Page 26 of Blood On His Lips

He returned my sneer with a slow, contemptuous smile full of teeth and taunting threat. “I hope you don't make a Vow of that.”

Not that ill, then. I started to step down.

Renaud dropped my hand to grab my upper arm, his grip bruising. “Their crime was against me, but it was your life they sought.” He drew a sword in a metallic hiss and handed me the hilt. . .then released me, slowly. “Their heads are yours in recompense. This is my gift to you.”

Baroun smirked.

Damn it. Gods damn it. “Aren't they of Montague?”

Renaud shook his head.

“Why did they attack me?”

“Inconclusive.”

“What? How can two days of torture—” I grimaced “—be inconclusive?” My brain caught up with my mouth, which I shut. The mouth, not the brain.

Renaud didn't move. Baroun also stood still, his expression now closed. If they didn't know, after torturing warriors who should have broken and offered every secret to their Prince, that meant one thing.

High Fae. A powerful High Fae, with an affinity for mental manipulation.

The warm spring day suddenly chilled.

“What you suspect,” Baroun said, “is also on our minds.”

Had I made an enemy somehow? . . .Fine, another enemy. One not even the Prince knew? I couldn't conceive of it. But I'd killed only soldiers during the feud, excepting Embry, and I'd otherwise stayed far, far away from the Courts. Who could I have angered?

I glanced at Numair, saw his puzzlement reflecting my own, and Édouard's narrowed, thoughtful gaze.

“They are a threat,” Renaud said. “Do you think to keep them? You would be welcoming something far more dangerous than a Trojan horse into your House.”

“I know what you want.” I set my feet. “No, I will not do this. I have enough blood on my hands.”

“Then a little more will make no difference.”

In battle, I would have relished having these three at my mercy. Right now I felt tired, and a little sick. They would have killed me without hesitation if they could, but that didn't make me a murderer—and there was no certainty their minds had not been in thrall to another. They could be innocent. Or rather, innocent enough. I'd killed in cold blood once before and had sworn never to do it again.

Baroun slanted a glance towards Renaud, but I couldn't quite read the message there. “You're about to win me some money. Or you would have, if my Lord had taken the bet.”

“I hate you both.” I really did.

“What,” Renaud said, voice mild, “have I taught you about hate?”

Nothing I cared to examine. Fae hate was far too close to Fae love. And it was Darkan, not Renaud, who gave me those lessons.

I turned to my father and met his gaze, his brow furrowed as he waited silently, allowing me to deal with the Fae.

He moved forward, pausing to bow again. “We ask your indulgence, Prince. My daughter is. . .unused to bloodshed outside of battle. She is her mother's daughter. My wife often remarked on the waste of Fae servitors to the feud.”

Clever, my father. He made me sound practical rather than weak, while reminding them of whose House stood behind me. A ragged, remnant House, but still strong enough that Baroun had been unable to defeat us.

Baroun snorted, his dark amber eyes derisive. “Your daughter is a killer, human, make no mistake.”

My temper flashed, then froze. “You will address the ruler of House Faronne as Lord Étienne, or answer for the insult.” This time Renaud didn't stop me when I descended a step, his sword in my hand. Finally, an outlet for my anger.

“Think carefully before you challenge me,Lady,” Baroun said, a glimmer of calm malice in his eyes. “You can't take me in a fight. And before you say something stupid, know that I've never really tried to kill you.”

He seemed entirely unconcerned, his subtle smile taunting, but I glimpsed the sudden tension in his shoulders, a tell I picked up on because I'd spent so many years watching him whenever in forced proximity. Watching, daydreaming.

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