Page 86 of A Court of Sugar and Spice
We clear the camp and race for open ground—no blue crystals here, but snow over grassy earth.
“It will be a long ride,” Lir shouts, twisting to look back at me. “But we can make it. A straight shot to the Pool, and then—”
His face changes, transformed by dread as he stares at something above and behind me.
I turn to look back.
Outlined against the darkness, an inkier black against the night, soar a dozen winged Unseelie. And with a cry of triumph, they dive.
25
I’m so sore I can barely stand. The orgy has been going on for hours.
About half the time, Fin was only pretending to fuck me, but sometimes he had to actually be inside me, since others at the orgy kept prowling around, wanting a turn.
Fortunately for us, the Rat King didn’t seem to care whether Fin shared or not. He was too busy enjoying himself with several different partners.
During those hours, I came until I couldn’t come anymore. I’m lying on the floor, nearly insensate, my body shifting slightly as Fin thrusts slowly, gently as he can. He’s still fully clothed and cloaked, and no one has mentioned it. Some of the Unseelie appear to prefer cloaks or garments too, even during revels, so he’s not the only one who didn’t undress.
Fin lowers himself down, his chest against my back. “It’s time, dearest. Can you stand?”
“Yes,” I murmur.
“Good. Stay down until I tell you to get up. I’m going to glamor you.”
He rises with an exaggerated yawn, tucking himself back into his pants, glancing around the room. I feel the trickle of tingling magic along my ears, over my body. “All right, love. Up you get.”
I rise quickly, glancing down at myself. I have furred legs like a doe, and tiny green spikes jut from the flesh of my arms. Purple drapery covers my breasts and genitals.
Fin and I meander toward the exit, threading through the dwindling crowd of Unseelie. Some of them are still lazily fucking, while others are nibbling sweets or downing goblets of wine. A surprising number of the Court are snoring on the floor, while others are spinning dazedly, lost to the music in their minds. I suspect Finias had something to do with the general sleepiness of the group. Even the Rat King is snoring on his throne, draped in naked bodies.
“A most dreadfully delightful evening,” Finias says to the guards on our way out, giving them a brief salute. They show no sign of hearing him. And they don’t stop us, either.
The way out of the lair seems horrendously long, a maze of twisting corridors and upward slopes and sharp turns. It’s all I can do to walk slowly and casually beside Finias. I link my arm with his, petting his shoulder and smirking like a female of the Unseelie Court might do.
Finally, at the end of a hallway, I can see the ragged hole up ahead—the one that leads outside.
We’ve made it.
I squeeze Fin’s arm.
We’re nearly there. I can see trees and the pale peach glow of the dawn sky. I can feel the fresh cold air on my face.
And then an eight-legged shape scuttles across the opening, blocking our path. Magda, the spider woman.
“Leaving so soon, Sugarplum?” she asks.
“The party is over. I’ve done my work well.” He smiles at her. “Thank you for your kind words on my behalf.”
“Yes, I did vouch for you.” The spider woman crosses her arms over her chest. “But you see, later in the evening I spoke to the Rat King again, quietly. And I told him where I believe your true allegiance lies. He thought it best to use you for the party and then—keep you on hand for further amusement. After all, precious—you do taste so damn delicious.”
She’s moving nearer, leg after leg, in that horrible way spiders have.
“And who is this?” She exhales sharply, and a puff of white dust flies into my face. I sneeze, and when I glance down, my glamour is gone, and I’m dressed in the black ribbons of a concubine again. “Trying to steal the Rat King’s property?”
“She doesn’t belong to him,” Fin bites out. “She’s mine.”
“Yours? How fascinating.”
