Page 95 of A Court of Sugar and Spice
I lift pleading eyes to Drosselmeyer. “You’ve loved people. You know how it feels to lose them. Human or Fae, Seelie or Unseelie—we are all guilty of something. And there are members of each race who have done wicked, wretched things. That doesn’t mean we condemn them all. It doesn’t mean we keep hating and punishing everyone of that race for wrongs committed long ago. The Fae wronged you deeply, and you’ve wronged them, too—but it must end.”
“So you want me to return your lover to you,” says Drosselmeyer grimly. “And these others?” He gestures to the Unseelie Court, miniaturized and scattered about the room. “What about them? I suppose you want them to remain cursed, since they’re your enemies? Do you not see your own hypocrisy?”
“They are the aggressors here,” I counter. “And they’ve committed unspeakable horror against the Seelie, with no sign of remorse. So we’ll leave them like this, until the rightful King can decide their fate.”
Drosselmeyer is wavering, but he’s not convinced yet. I scan the room, searching for inspiration, for a final bit of leverage to sway him.
The Rat King’s scepter is lying on the floor. Holding Fin in one hand, I pick it up. “I know you enjoy Fae artifacts and weapons. This belonged to the Rat King, and it’s imbued with shadow magic. You could probably learn to use it. If you free Fin, and you promise to stay and speak to Lir and Louisa, you can have it.”
I bite my lip, waiting. I’ve appealed to his morals, his compassion, and his collector’s nature. The choice is up to him.
After a moment, the bolt-gun he’s holding drops to the floor with a clang.
“I’m tired,” Drosselmeyer says simply. “Weary of all this. Let it be done. I’ll restore your friend, and if the Prince kills me when he arrives, so be it.”
“He won’t kill you,” I say. “I’ll make sure of it. Perhaps you can trade your life for the assurance that you’ll dispel the curse from the Seelie prisoners and concubines in this lair, and from all the cursed Fae in your house. The Prince has friends among your captives. And you can begin by freeing Finias.”
“I suppose if I want leniency, cursing the Prince’s cousin isn’t the way to begin,” Drosselmeyer says. He glances toward the throne room entrance again. I can sense his fear, his urge to simply flee back through the portal and abandon us all.
I approach him, holding out the Sugarplum Faerie doll. “You’re doing the right thing, you know. If you run away from this, you’ll never have peace. But we all have a chance to sort things out and settle them, right now. Please.”
“Very well.” Drosselmeyer speaks a quick string of words.
The Finias doll expands, growing right out of my hands. He’s still oiled, naked, and clad in the scarlet ropes. He falls to his knees, gasping, his wings shivering
Drosselmeyer hooks an eyebrow at me. “I can see the appeal.”
I ignore him and help Finias to his feet. “Are you all right?”
He sniffs and shakes himself. “I’ve never experienced anything like that. Ah, Drosselmeyer. We meet again. I do believe you tried to trap me once.”
Drosselmeyer peers at Fin’s face, and then his eyes widen. “I believe I did. You’re very quick.”
“Clara, dearest,” says Fin, eyeing my godfather. “I suppose you’ve made some sort of deal, so I can’t kill him?”
“That’s correct.”
“Pity.” He cracks his neck, the ropes on his body vanishing. A gauzy shirt, a purple vest, and a pair of trousers appear in their place. “Much better.”
“Lir and Louisa are headed this way,” I tell him. “We should go out and meet them. They’re moving oddly fast, in a very straight line—I have no idea how they’re traveling so quickly.”
Finias looks as if he’s trying to hide a smirk.
“What?” I frown at him. “What is it?”
“It’s so much more fun as a surprise, sweetness,” he tells me. “But first, if you’ll permit me, I’d like to conjure you some clothes. Well, I wouldn’tliketo, because you look absolutely fetching in those scraps—but maybe you’d prefer to greet the King of Faerie in something with a bit more coverage?”
“Please, yes.”
Fin envelops me in an outfit that closely matches his own, except it’s much tighter, and shows ample cleavage. I give him a half-reproachful smirk, and he winks at me.
We hurry out of the lair, and I inwardly determine never to enter it again. Drosselmeyer keeps glancing nervously at the magical map on his arm, until the dot representing Louisa is nearly on top of us.
“Where are they?” I exclaim, perplexed, glancing around. “They should be right here.”
“Dearest heart,” says Fin, a laugh in his voice. “Look up.”
When I look up, I’m nearly blinded by the flash of light on metal. Something enormous is descending from the sky, right toward us.
