Page 9 of Trials of Dusk and Dreams
“But that’s what they all call you, hmm? That’s what She calls you.”
My steps falter as I pass her favorite scene. The first Puck, the original Robin Goodfellow, stands on a rock playing the panflute, his eyes alight with mischief. Flowers adorn his stubby horns, and tiny Folk dance around his furry, cloven-hooved legs. Puck was a prankster, a whimsical practical joker. Always the life of the party. Always making her laugh.
“And when have you made her laugh lately, hmm?”the Hunt mocks.
“Shut the fuck up.”
It’s not until tittering tiny Folk erupt in peals of laughter that I realize I spoke aloud.
“I would rip that mortal tongue from your throat for your impudence.”
“Why don’t you?” He thinks to threaten me, but he needs me. Unless another Radiant bonds with him, he is without a host.
“Watching your imminent self-destruction is all the more entertaining.”
I inwardly snarl at my baleful passenger and press on. “You seem so sure of that, but you’re wrong.”
“And why’s that, fool?”
“Because I am a survivor.”
“Oh, yes, you survived death from that Sluagh rather dexterously. Sheer talent.”
Fury simmers in my blood, but I resist the bait. “We are more alike than you think. You should be welcoming me, not threatening me.”
“You and I can never be alike, mortal.”
“I am mortal no more!” I roar and rip a chunk of thorny vines from the wall. Blood drips from cuts in my hands, but magic knits my flesh. “See? I heal.”
“If you say so.”
This is pointless. I am the master. He is the dragon. I am?—
My gaze snags on the mural I revealed behind the vines. The pearlescent painting depicts a circular table of dragon-bonded Radiants surrounding the queen. They are the Shining Host, the trusted inner circle who counsels her. Each has eyes of a different color, reflecting their elemental dragon. The bonded beasts themselves rise behind each noble, their wings spreading like incorporeal angels.
The Baleful Hunt’s presence at the council reminds me that I now have a seat at that table, not the House of Stone. In fact, so long as I have my position ratified, nothing can stop me. I may have connived my way into this role, but don’t all faerie revere trickery and devilry? Don’t I deserve a place among them?
“Not if you can’t stabilize the security of Avorlorna while she slumbers,”the dragon scoffs.“Need I remind you who takes over from the Shining Host if the threat to our safety is deemed too high?”
The Knights of the Queen’s Hive.
Hatred simmers in my gut.
Setting off again, I shut out the stony quips from my mind until I arrive at the open, intricately carved double doors leading to the queen’s sleeping chambers. The two guards, both Keepers of the Cauldron, are absent.
I glimpse a flash of pink, yellow, and white and quickly duck behind the door. The light, sing-song chattering of Titania’s ladies-in-waiting filters out to me.
“Oh, whimsical winds and dancing moonbeams, Moth! When your whispers reached my ears, I nearly mistook you for achangeling of the Unseelie Court.” Tinkling laughter ensues, and then she continues. “Your tall tales sound like you have sampled too much faerie wine.”
“By my heart, dear Cobweb. I swear it is true.”
“A dragon, you say? Bonded to our dear, chaotic Puck? Why, the very stars must have shifted in their celestial dance to allow such an unlikely union.”
“Ah, but consider the Puck of old, the true Goodfellow. Now, there was a spirit who might have danced with dragons!”
“Indeed, this pale shadow is but a firefly to our dear Goodfellow’s blazing star.”
“Tut-tut, ladies,” Cobweb says. “We mustn’t gossip.”
