Page 97 of Cathmoir's Sons

“It’s a party. Demons, magi, and Cait sidhe, oh my.”

“Crow Queens, too,” Evan says, nodding at the two crows watching with their bright eyes.

“I’m remiss. Your majesties.” Darwin bows again. “I’m Darwin Dùbhghlas-Nowak, proud husband of Teddy, Gabe, andCharlie, prouder father to Galant, Honour, and Carrie Prince, and lastly, prince of Thistlemist.”

The crows caw in chorus. The white crow gibbers on for a moment.

Darwin chuckles. “Yes, she did train me to introduce myself that way. I’ll convey your regards.”

“You understand crow-speak,” Evan says flatly.

Darwin winks. “Doesn’t everyone?”

Evan huffs.

Luca offers his hand to Didrane, who jumps to his shoulder. He wraps himself around Caileán on her other side and together we walk into her court.

It’s busier since the last time I was here. Hundreds of crows cluck and caw in the rafters. Tall, cloaked fae with deer skulls peeking out of their cowls bow and shift away into the shadows. Nymphs fade into the walls with a flash of bare limbs and the flick of mossy hair. Flights of will-o-wisps dance overhead. Tiny fae scamper around my knees, their caps white and blue and red. A blue-capped fae, wearing a white apron over a bosom so oversized for her small frame I’m amazed she can walk upright, stops in front of Caileán and bows. Caileán tips her head to the side as though she’s listening, even though I can’t hear anything over the noise of the birds overhead and the shuffling of the wild fae around us.

“Petalwanny wants to serve us a meal in an hour,” Caileán says. “Can everyone wait until then or would you like something to eat and drink now?”

“You’re going to want to wait until after Kimberly Cavalo-Darling’s dealt with,” Luca says quietly. “She’s not a sight conducive to eating or keeping your food down.”

There’s a murmured consensus that we’ll wait.

The blue-capped fae bows and scuttles off with a flash of bare buttocks and miniature Wellington boots.

Caileán leads us forward into her hall. Two ranks of shadowy Cait in their massive panther forms stand at attention, creating an aisle through the hall to a dais, topped by four ornate chairs. The chairs are empty, but there’s a cluster of people standing around them.

On the floor in front of the chairs there’s a blackened lump of ... something. It’s barely recognizable as a person: skin charred and flaking, hairless, curled on itself like a shrimp. A thin, high noise escapes the lump, like steam from a boiling kettle.

“What the fuck?” I ask everyone and no one in particular.

“She was like this when we found her in Hell,” Luca says. “But she immediately began healing. When we brought her through into Faery, the healing stopped. I wasn’t sure what you’d want done with her, Caileán.”

Caileán steps up onto the dais and stands over the burned remains of my cousin. Her cloak fans out around her like wings. The screaming peters off into silence.

“I would have given you a quick death,” Caileán whispers. “You killed my consort, but I wouldn’t have made you suffer in return. Not like this.”

“Caileán,” I say.

She lifts her head and looks at me, eyes burning an inhuman blue. “Will you ask for mercy, my love? For this woman who would have taken you from me? Who tore out your magic and seared your heart? She has chosen her fate.”

“Yes,” I agree. “She has. And I pity her. Pull the knowledge we need out of her and then let her die. Show her the mercy she wouldn’t have shown me.”

Caileán’s claws brush up my arm to trace my cheek. “You are a good man, my Rhodrhi. Fair and just.”

“Queen Caileán.” A demon with horns that look dipped in blood, draped in a strange cloak of long strips, speaks up. “I have a question for the magi, if you would allow it.”

Caileán nods. She waves her hand and a circle of eleven chairs appears around my cousin’s body. I escort her to a chair and sit to her left, knowing Law will demand to sit on her right. I’m not wrong. He captures Caileán’s free hand as soon as he sits, raises it to his mouth, and kisses her knuckles.

Luca sits next to me. He takes my hand so the four of us are linked. Magic ripples between us in a golden tide. The albino crow flutters down to perch on our entwined fingers.

“Kimberly Cavalo-Darling,” Caileán says, her voice low and commanding. “I command you stand and answer the questions put to you honestly. Do this and I will grant you a swift and painless death.”

Chapter 27

Deadly Mercies

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