Page 64 of A Court of Sugar and Spice
A moment’s hesitation, and then his fingers curl around mine. Just for an instant, and then he lets go. “Come, we should return to camp. I believe our mercenary friends are unhappy with my decision to let Fin depart.”
When we reach camp, the four mercenaries are deep in a heated discussion, which cuts off abruptly at our approach. Achorn steps to the forefront of the group, his burly arms crossed and his bovine features heavy with displeasure.
“We didn’t agree to this,” he says. “We signed up for this job because Sugarplum was part of it. Now he’s gone. He had the magic to get us through. Not just those candy spells but the real goods, his natural skills. And you sent him off.”
“I did not ‘send him off,’” replies Lir coolly. “He wanted to leave. I allowed it. He will return.”
“Who knows when?” snorts Achorn.
“There’s no way through the Ravine without him,” adds Cahren, curving her moth wings around herself protectively. “I have my acid, my wind spells, my bow, and my camouflage, but it won’t be enough.”
“I can take on a dozen enemies at once,” puts in the dark-skinned Fae with the antlers. “But not five dozen. We told you when we laid our plans at the tavern—we told you the kind of force that’s massed in the Ravine. Without Sugarplum, the odds are too great.”
“He went to save my sister.” I spit the words out, trembling with anger. “Sounds to me as if the rest of you are cowards.”
Lir winces at my words, and a venomous rumble travels through the other Fae.
“Cowards, are we? What’s your little mortal ass good for except fucking the Prince?” sneers the reptilian Fae. “I won’t be called a coward by a leaking fleshbag of a human whore!”
Before the reptile’s words can register with me, Lir has him by the throat. He smashes the other Fae into the ground and slams a boot down on his neck.
It all happens so quickly I barely have time to react, to think. But as the mercenaries reach for their weapons, I dive for Fin’s bag of spells and snatch an orb out of it. I leap to the Prince’s side, holding up the orb, my teeth bared.
“Back off,” I hiss at the other Fae. “Or I’ll use this. Fin told me what it does, and believe me, you don’t want to find out.”
They recoil, glaring. The reptilian mercenary squirms under Lir’s boot.
“Take it back,” snarls the Prince, grinding down harder.
“I take it back,” rasps the mercenary. “Your pardon, my lady. Mercy, mercy! I beg your forgiveness!”
“You’re forgiven,” I say. “But if you want to keep your tongue, I suggest you train it to be more polite.”
Lir slants an approving look at me and eases the pressure on the mercenary’s throat.
“This is how we will proceed,” says the Prince evenly. “I know Fin gave you money to purchase the supplies and horses, which means the provisions and mounts in this camp are not yours. And since you are leaving our company before the job is done, you won’t be paid. However, in recompense for your time and effort, you may keep all the horses but two, and you may take with you the supplies we won’t need.”
“Or we could kill you and keep it all,” growls Achorn.
“Wait, now.” The antlered Fae shakes his head. “That’s too far. I won’t be party to killing the future King.”
“Agreed,” says Cahren. “We take all but two horses, a few weapons, and two shares of supplies. We forfeit the reward, but keep our lives. It is fair.”
She looks at Lir, and in her eyes I see a cautious request for his approval. She and the antlered Fae want to depart, same as the other two, but they recognize that if their Prince does happen to survive and make it to the Pool, he might decide to punish them for leaving him in the lurch.
“It is fair.” Lir says, with a nod. “Collect your share and begone.”
He moves his boot from the neck of the reptilian Fae, and he and I withdraw to one side of the clearing with some of the supplies. I’m already wearing the blue dagger I took from Drosselmeyer’s weapon room, and I keep Fin’s satchel slung around my body.
Lir and I stand our ground, looking as aggressive and authoritative as we can while the others pack up. I toss the orb I’m holding lightly, a subtle threat. There’s no verbal agreement between me and the Prince on our stance or strategy; there is simply an understanding—a seamless, unspoken partnership. Portray strength, and the others won’t change their minds and challenge us.
“Do you really know what that thing does?” mutters Lir out of the side of his mouth.
“No idea,” I whisper back. “It could be a fizzy bathwater ball or a lethal spell.”
He gives me one of his rare grins. “Clever woman.”
“I have moments of brilliance.”
