Page 104 of A Court of Hearts and Hunger
I don’t cry anymore, and he doesn’t rage like Caer, or touch me in ways that promise something he can’t fulfill. We sit in the silence—but it isn’t silence exactly, because there are sounds coming from somewhere in the house. Faint cries, as if someone is being hurt—except they remind me of the sounds I made when Riordan had his mouth between my legs.
His long ears swivel slightly, and he gives me a wry smile. “Sugarplum and his human.”
“Clara,” I say.
“Clara. I wonder where he found her. How they became what they are, together.”
“Perhaps they’ll tell us tomorrow, before—” I swallow the words that rise on my tongue.
Before I am given to the Eater of Hearts.
32
When Fin and I reappear, hand in hand, Riordan says, “You may have your old room, Sugarplum. If it’s not clean enough for your liking, I’m sure you have a spell that can rectify the matter.”
“Do you have anything to eat?” I ask, rather uncertainly. “I’ve only eaten conjured food since I entered Mallaithe.”
“She’s starving,” Fin says flatly. “Be a decent host, Rabbit, and offer us something to eat. I daresay Alice wouldn’t say no to a hot meal. I’ll even cook it. Something quick and filling, I think—it's late, and we should rest soon. Even if all goes smoothly, and the Queen and her Heartless fall, I doubt her entourage will let us simply walk out of the Dread Court afterward. There’s bound to be a battle.” He cracks his neck and flashes a broad grin. “I’m dying to unleash everything on these wretches.”
“The wretches whose lives we’re saving by eliminating the Queen,” I remind him.
“Of course, sugar, of course. I’ll only smite the ones who try to kill us. The others can live to see another foul monarch rise. I may make them kiss my feet, but I think that’s only fair recompense for my mercy.”
“Stop.” I poke him in the ribs with my elbow. “Alice isn’t used to your humor.”
Alice looks very pale, but clean and healthy enough. Caer and Riordan must have provided decent food and lodging. She’s still wearing the dressing gown, a fluffy pink thing embroidered with flowers. It looks too bright and cozy for an Unseelie household. Perhaps the White Rabbit got it from one of his victims. I shudder at the thought.
“You remember where the kitchen is, Sugarplum,” Riordan says caustically. “Help yourself to whatever you find.”
Fin dashes off, looking very pleased at being given free rein. Riordan disappears, mumbling something about research. Alice and I follow Finias and discover a big kitchen outfitted with a fireplace, an oven, and all the usual implements. Not all Fae are gifted with the kind of magic that’s useful for cooking.
“My magic is dampened, so I’ll have to start the fire by hand,” Fin complains. “I’m not sure I remember how.”
“I’ll do it.” Alice hurries to the fireplace, locates a flint and kindling, and has a flame started in no time.
“We can help with the cooking,” I suggest, but Fin looks scandalized.
“You’d deprive me of the opportunity to cook for two beautiful women?” He splays a hand over his heart. “The cruelty of it, dearest. Sit down, please. You two can chat while I prepare the food. I shall have to take stock of the Rabbit’s pantry. Lucky for us, Caer loves to snack, so we should find plenty of choices.”
“Caer said you and he were distant acquaintances,” I say. “But if you both lived in this house, why weren’t you closer friends?”
“At the time he was occupied with a new gambling ring at a brothel in the city,” Fin replies. “He spent many nights out of the house. And I was either studying with Riordan, or thoroughly debasing myself in every way. I always had my head in a spellbook or between someone’s legs. Not much time for befriending my master’s roommate.”
He winks at me before diving into the pantry. And then he comes out again, fussing because there are no magical orbs to light that space, and he can’t conjure any for himself. It’s hilarious to watch him struggling to function without his usual gifts. After a fruitless search for candles, he digs a sort of sparkler out of his magical pocket and uses that to light his explorations.
While he cooks, Fin hums the song he crooned to me in the forest, the first time we played out my fantasy of hunter and prey. Alice and I begin to talk quietly about her service to Drosselmeyer. She tells me about her many little siblings, whom she mothered until she was sent out to be a maid and earn money for the family. She speaks simply, with the plain words and country accent of a farm girl; but there’s a brightness in her eyes, a quickness in her gaze. She’s intelligent, if not educated. Curious and clever.
She’s taller than I am, her muscles more toned than mine were when I first came to Faerie. Her strength is apparent in the way she lifts the heavy wooden chair away from the table with one hand and seats herself. Her curves are more dramatic than mine, though not as voluminous as my sister Louisa’s.
Alice doesn’t exactly speak ill of her parents—but I believe people raised in uncaring homes recognize each other. We can hear the echo of keening loneliness in the merriest of tones. We recognize the raw edges of wounds never quite healed. I know, though she doesn’t say it, that Alice and I are more alike than I thought. Children of careless humans, bound and restricted by a society bent on keeping us within certain prescribed roles. For people like us, the strange glory and the wicked freedom of Faerie is practically irresistible.
“I miss them,” she says softly. “My little brothers and sisters. The garden. The fields. I wasn’t at Master Drosselmeyer’s long, but I miss that, too—all the beautiful rooms, the novelty of the tasks. Some of the chores were the same, but I was learning a whole new set of skills, and it excited me.”
“So you'd have wanted to go back,” I say. “If we could find a way to open a path to the human realm—if you weren’t going to—”
If you weren’t going to sacrifice yourself for everyone else tomorrow night.
“It might not be the end,” Alice says. “Riordan is going to try something to save me, afterward.”
