Page 89 of A Court of Sugar and Spice
Fortunately the three Unseelie who were carrying ranged weapons appear to be out of bolts and darts now. I spent several of Fin’s candies protecting Lir and myself from those projectiles. If I ever see Fin again, I’ll have to thank him for leaving me his bag of tricks.
I don’t think the Unseelie know who we are. But the fact that we’re racing away from the battle, clearly bent on some important mission, is enough for them to keep pursuing us.
Or perhaps one of them did catch a glimpse of Lir’s face, and recognized him. Fin told me once that some Fae can see in the dark—not just the enhanced sight most Fae have, but true night vision.
No dawn came today, only a lowering sky of dark gray clouds. Snow is falling thickly, whisked past my cheeks by the wind of our speed.
One of the Unseelie darts nearer, skimming along beside me, matching his pace to my stag’s. His skin is gray, mottled with blue and purple splotches, and his arms form the top of his bat-wings, which end in three long, clawed fingers. His lean body is naked except for a scanty loincloth. One of his batlike ears is tattered, and his wing bears a scorch mark. Both wounds are my work.
“Give up, human,” he hisses. “Yield to our pleasure and your doom.”
I take a handful of candy from Fin’s bag and throw it at the Unseelie. He laughs, catching one in midair. “What are these? Sweets? Are they poisoned? You’ve run out of tricks and you’re trying to poison me now, little human?”
“I’m very tired of being called ‘little human,’” I snap.
Lir falls back to my side. “Begone, devil.”
“Well, if it isn’t the long-lost Prince,” sneers the Unseelie.
So they do know him after all. Fuck.
“Are you sure you recognize me?” Lir says grimly. “Come a bit closer. Take a good look.”
“But I daren’t come closer! I’m so scared of your rapier.” The Unseelie recoils in mock terror. “You know, I’ve heard you’re a being of immense power and stunning magic, Lord Prince. Yet I’ve seen nothing from you but a little swordplay. Could it be that you are currently powerless?”
Lir clenches his jaw and doesn’t answer.
“So it’s true! The Prince of Seelie, too shy to claim the title of King, is entirely impotent. He’s at our mercy!” he calls to the others, who jeer in response.
“See here, you two,” says the bat-winged Unseelie. “We’ve had good fun. Now it’s time for you to yield. You’re out of spells, girl, or you would have thrown another one at me by now. Give up, and we’ll make your death quick. For the girl, not for you, Highness,” he says, looking at Lir. “You, we’ll take back to the Rat King.”
A female Unseelie with a human head on a vulture’s neck swoops down, keeping abreast of Lir’s mount. The tips of her breasts protrude through her mottled gray-and-black feathers.
I glance up. Four Unseelie are descending rapidly from above. Behind us, four more are skimming along the ground, rapidly closing the distance.
“Louisa!” Lir’s tone is harsh desperation blended with violent hope.
I follow his gaze ahead, to a belt of trees taller than any I’ve ever seen. Their trunks shoot straight up, smooth and bare, all the way to the underbelly of the winter sky, where their leafy crowns mingle with the clouds. They’re set close together, a wall of trunks so tightly arranged I can’t see what lies beyond them.
This must be the place. This ring of ancient trees must encircle the Unending Pool.
“Go!” I scream, kicking my stag with my heels. It’s the animal’s life at stake as well as mine. Whether he understands that or not, he responds with a fresh burst of speed.
Lir is roaring to his mount as well, urging him to gallop faster. We streak across the open space, closing with the line of trees slowly, slowly—
The Unseelie screech, flapping hard to catch up with us. One of them dives, trying to pluck Lir out of his saddle, but he slashes expertly with the rapier and it wheels away, screaming, blood spraying from a damaged leg.
Claws dig into my shoulder, and I shriek, clamping my thighs around my stag’s body just in time to avoid being plucked off my mount. I brandish my dagger at the vulture-Fae, and she squawks when my blow glances off her wing.
Again the Unseelie dive, taking turns zooming in to attack us, while we try to ride faster and fight at the same time. I’m riding abreast of Lir again, sticking close to him so it’s harder for two of the Unseelie to attack us at once without their wings becoming tangled.
“If they get me, promise you’ll keep going,” I shout to Lir.
“Not likely,” he says.
“You have a responsibility to your people. If you can ride faster and get ahead of me, do it!”
“Not a fucking chance.”
