Page 72 of A Court of Sugar and Spice
A burst of red light erupts into the chamber. Streamers of it snake up to the ceiling before shattered into a dazzling shower of ruby sparkles. The path to the Rat King’s throne sinks, forming a shallow stream bed through which lava flows, molten and steaming. A drumbeat begins, low and powerful enough to shake the entire room.
The Court explodes into a cacophony of voices, some panicked and some excited. The Rat King grips the head of his scepter.
Along the lava path strides a tall, slim figure, clad in black from head to toe, with epaulets of interlaced bone jutting from his shoulders and a dark cloak billowing at his back. The lava hisses around the soles of his thigh-high boots.
My fingers tighten painfully around the bars of my cage.
His hair is pink as ever, but streaked with black and woven with twists of licorice and shards of bone. He’s grinning, his cruel teeth on full display, his yellow eyes heavily lined with kohl.
The Sugarplum Faerie.
He spreads his arms wide, and a tempest of wrapped candies flies from his palms, arcing upward and then raining down on the Court in a hail of licorice twists, scarlet grumdrops, and red-flecked mints. Instinctively the crowd reaches up to catch them.
Finias reaches the end of his lava stream and drops to one knee on the wide first step of the dais.
“My lord and king,” he says, bowing his head.
“What is the meaning of this?” growls the Rat King.
“A little fun, Your Majesty.” Finias looks up, head tilted aside, giving the king an ingratiating smile. “I heard there was a party tonight, and I hoped for an invitation. In exchange I’m prepared to offer entertainment the like of which Your Glorious Eminence has rarely seen.”
“Wait.” The Rat King leans forward. “I know you. You’re that rogue faerie who goes from Seelie to Unseelie and back again, fucking everything in sight and throwing treats at any Fae with a sweet tooth. I remember you from—from—”
“From the Carnage Revel of Imbolc, three years ago.” Finias bows again. “I produced a river of honey-milk, spiced with hot cinnamon, in which everyone could swim, and a mountain of chocolate-covered eyeballs so tall no one could manage to climb it. Some of my best work.”
“Yes, yes.” The Rat King narrows his red eyes. “The Sugarplum Faerie. Stupid title, but apt, I suppose. And you have no quarrel with my conquest of this kingdom?”
“None at all. It’s about time someone shook up the sleepy Seelie, don’t you think?” He looks around, brows lifted, and the Court rumbles with approval. “No, Your Majesty, I have no stake in kingdoms or conquests, only in parties and the darkest of carnal delights.”
The Rat King hesitates, his muzzle twitching. “You, Magda!” He beckons sharply, and a tall Unseelie with the torso of a woman and the legs of a spider scuttles forward. “You introduced this fellow to me three years ago. What say you? Can he be trusted? And bear in mind if you lie to me, it will be his headandyours that I swallow.”
For a handful of heartbeats, Magda looks at Finias.
I don’t know how they know each other, or what passed between them. But I beg her silently, with all my heart, to speak in his favor. I can’t watch him be torn apart, or swallowed.
“He can be trusted,” Magda says. “His magic is weak, good for little except showmanship and amusement. He’s a delightful fuck, though. His cum tastes different every time he ejaculates. It’s good fun.”
A murmur of hungry interest ripples through the Court. Finias is still smiling, hard and bright. My heart breaks for him, because I know how he feels about being used for his unique sexual attributes.
Somehow he followed me, tracked me, found me. He hasn’t cast me so much as a glance, but I know he’s aware of my presence. I can feel it.
Where are the others? Are they safe? He couldn’t have brought them anywhere near here, not with the Prince so powerless. And I doubt the mercenaries would have agreed to come. It must be Finias alone, then.
What must it have cost him to walk in here by himself? Yet he did it for me.
“You’ll stay then,” says the Rat King to Finias. “You’ll make two pools, right here in this room—one of honey-milk, and one of richest blood, well-peppered. Some more of those fireworks, too, and the kind of sweets my people like, and any other tricks you can manage. If you do well, you may have your pick of my concubines tonight.”
He waves a paw toward the cages, and Finias looks.
He looks at me. Right at me.
And in that moment, when our eyes lock, I know beyond all doubt.
I love him.
The briefest glance, not the slightest flicker of recognition, and then he’s turning back to the Rat King.
“My liege, your generosity is overwhelming.” Finias bows, touching his forehead to the steps. “This will be a revel you will never forget.”
