Page 38 of Heir to His Court

I opened my eyes and almost stepped back. His irises were twin electric blue flames.

“Take me, then,” I said softly. “You know no other has had me in that way. Take me and settle the matter of who is my master once and for all.”

His lips curved. It was not a smile. “Take you on the altar of your martyrdom for Numair? I think not. When I fuck you into oblivion, halfling, it won’t be because you have chosen to whore on behalf of a Low Fae upstart who thinks himself worthy ofmyfemale.”

I slapped him.

It. . .wasn’t quite a slap. Not with talons involved. And such.

Renaud turned his head back around, eyesblack, swiping his tongue on the corner of his mouth where his lip bled. Three thin red lines released a delicate tracery of blood along his cheek. The skin closed as I watched.

It didn’t matter. I’d attacked him in his home, drawn blood.It was worse than an insult, more dangerous than a challenge.

Then he laughed.

I turned and ran. Fae Warrior Lesson One: One’s feet are one’s best friends. I knew that laugh. It reverberated in my bones.

Renaud grabbed me, jerking me to a halt with an arm wrapped like a manacle around my waist. My harpy struggled to the surface; for attack or defense, I wasn’t certain. He held me tight, my wings pressed tight against his chest, his arm imprisoning my wrists. My talons flexed, but I couldn’t move.

I was harpy, weak male parts my meat, but he was dragon and could devour me whole if he chose.

“You think you are safe from me,” the General of Ninephe said, voice guttural, breath on my neck as his fingers tightened in my hair. He spoke pure, old Ninephene. “You think because they love you, you can rake your talons across my cheek, and I will turn the other. You are wrong, halfling. I will do things to you that make you beg. Make you scream. Make you crawl to me questioning every truth you thought you knew.”

The General released me slowly, my breath coming faster in harsh, panicked gasps. I turned, met his gaze with power in my own, and spread my wings in a show of strength.

He smiled, infinitely beautiful, exquisitely malicious. “Have a care, anchor of our soul. To have, and to hold. To heal. . .and to break.”

Silence stretched between us, then his expression emptied. Absent any feeling, leaving only the calculation of an enemy behind.

“Now, get out before I kill you and I have to listen to their whining for the rest of my life.”

ChapterTwelve

The wings had been a physical manifestation. I’d ruined my robes.

“Lady Aerinne.”

I turned, nail beds itching.

The Seneschal bowed. “May I be of service?”

It took me a moment, then I nodded. “Does the staff still maintain Faronne’s quarters in the palace?”

“Of course. Allow me to escort you.”

I didn’t know what instinct revealed the General—or perhaps it was buried knowledge from the layers of memories I had yet to unravel—but I’d recognized the minute shift in his voice, his speech pattern. He had turned cold with the brusque calculation of a warlord considering the killing of a soldier who had given offense, nothing of a lover or a courtier in his demeanor.

I’d only met him once before, and as soon as Raniel had reemerged, he’d warned me never to engage that aspect of himself again. To offer absolute obedience until I escaped notice.

Painstakingly, I began to piece together and accept the tells I had buried over the last several weeks—even during the years I’d been too young to understand. Raniel was mad, his personality splintered into at least four distinct parts. I dressed, ignored the food and downed the coffee as I thought.

Four aspects, but I was almost certain they could merge or separate at will. There were times he’d giving me whiplash with his subtle shifts in mood. Times I’d felt as if the Raniel and Darkan I had grown up with were not quite the same male as the Renaud I now knew. At times it had felt like his personalities had. . .blended. I’d hoped it was simply due to the complexity of being an Old One—they were not simple minded people.

With Threnvanne Sanyelle’s emergence, I could no longer deny that this went beyond mere complexity.

My only comfort was that I knew I was not the source of the split. He must have lived like this for many, many centuries before me.

I met my father and guards in the courtyard so we might arrive at the negotiations together. By then, I’d pulled myself together and for all they knew, I’d simply had a quiet morning breakfast with the Prince. It felt odd, not sharing everything with my family anymore.

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