Page 73 of The Red Woman and the White Bear

“Again, misguided.”

The pair rode in silence for a time before Raif spoke again. “If it were possible—ifyouwere the one to raise the Silver Saints—it could give you more leverage onthe outcome.”

Kael looked at Raif. “Go on.”

“If you are the one to raise them, they will see you as the cooperative party. It could give you greater pull in negotiations if they believe you wish to see this war end peaceably, rather than the Seelie Court.”

Kael thought about this for several minutes, puzzling over the possibilities. Each path played out in his mind’s eye, each decision branching off into countless others. The only path he was certain of was the one that saw Aisling by his side.

“If you’re right, that could be the simplest way to maintain control of the end result,” Kael acknowledged finally. “I could ensure that it is at least somewhat favorable for our court.”

“It is far from a sure thing, but it may be the best option we have considered thus far,” Raif said, then added: “however naïve and idealistic it may be.”

The book was exactly where Kael remembered it, pinned between two other thick tomes high on the shelf directly behind the desk in his study, where he kept his most valuable manuscripts. These were not his favorites—those were filled with timeworn pages that he returned to again and again over the years. These were the most ancient, the most rare. He scarcely touched these.

It was bound in oxblood leather, unmarred, the spine barely creased. When it had been brought to him as part of a bounty collected after they’d seized some distant dominion, it was merely aloose collection of pages, tied around the middle with twine. He’d gotten it bound and, knowing wear would only lessen its value, had only opened it a handful of times since. Now, he held it against his chest as he walked through the corridors.

He slept well after his conversation with Raif, but he’d been eager for the day to pass and Aisling to wake. He wanted to speak with her again. More than that, he wanted to see her again. It was only with great effort that he’d left her at the door of her suite after they’d walked together through the night garden. If he’d had his way, and if she hadn’t brought the White Bear along to chaperone, he’d have asked her back to his own chamber.

She was waiting for him in the throne room late that night, as his note had requested, but his gladness to see her faltered slightly when he noticed she was accompanied by the púca and the White Bear. Both looked as though they wanted to snarl when he entered.

“You brought company,” Kael observed curtly.

Aisling threw him an apologetic smile. “They insisted.”

“We’re a package deal,” Rodney said, squaring his shoulders.

“I was not complaining,” Kael assured the three, however untrue. “I trust your rooms are satisfactory? And you’ve been fed?”

“We’ve been well taken care of, thank you.” Aisling smiled again. It warmed him, that smile.

“Nice to see you understand hospitality, after all.” Rodney grunted when Aisling drove her elbow into his ribs. Kael ignored the barb.

“Come,” he said. “I would like to show you something.” He shortened his long strides just enough for Aisling tofall into step beside him as he led the group across to the far side of the throne room.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, loud enough only for Kael’s ears while Rodney trudged sullenly several paces behind.

“Well, thank you.” Kael’s fingers tightened around the edges of the tome he carried, suppressing the urge to reach out and take Aisling’s hand, or to sweep away the strand of hair that had fallen across her cheek. “Very well.”

He pushed open the door to a vestibule off the throne room. It was a small space, hand-carved into the stone rather than built from a natural cavern as the throne room was. There was a long table in the center, and torches burning on the walls illuminated the sturdy hewn chairs around it.

“I take meetings here on occasion,” Kael explained as they filed in. Briar still gave him a wide berth, to his great relief. “With lords, generally, or their guard captains. Those whom I do not wish to give such access to the Undercastle as to see them in my study.”

Aisling’s eyes had already found the purpose for Kael’s tour and she was moving toward the back of the space as though drawn by an invisible force. He and Rodney followed her, stopping before the rear wall and gazing up at the art that hung there.

“This is the original,” she murmured. Four times the size of the page that was still folded up in her jacket pocket, the ink drawing that depicted the three courts was even more ornate than the print. Each fine, tiny detail etched there by hand had significance; the artist wasted no space with filler or meaningless imagery. Reaching aboveAisling’s head, Kael unhooked it from the wall and turned to lay it flat on the table.

All three leaned in to peer at it closely. Kael seized the opportunity to step another half-inch nearer to Aisling, just enough that their arms touched when she bent forward. He ignored Briar’s warning growl as he did so.

“I thought you might like to see it this way.” Kael watched Aisling study the artwork, examining every inch of the uppermost segment that depicted the Silver Saints, high above the Seelie and Unseelie Courts. Even the stars that surrounded them, he’d been told, were accurate to their true placement in the sky when the image was drawn.

Once Aisling and Rodney straightened up and stepped away, Kael hung it back on the wall. Still, all three continued to stare up at it.

“I have given your suggestion a great deal of consideration, you know,” Kael said. He kept his eyes on the drawing, though he heard Aisling turn to face him.

“Good of you,” Rodney muttered.

“Quiet,” Aisling hissed at him, then turned back to Kael. “And?”

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