Page 113 of A Court of Hearts and Hunger
It takes a moment for our words to sink in. The crowd stills, an incredulous silence falling over the Unseelie.
In our short time here, I’ve heard the murmurs, the undercurrent of terror in the Dread Court. They’ve been caught in the grip of unrelenting fear since the Rat King failed to return and the Queen of Hearts rose to power. Every day, every night has been a frenzied dance, fueled by the fear that if they stopped, they would die.
But now the hectic movement has ceased, and the mad cheers have faded. It is time for them to rest, and rejoice.
I let a pink-and-golden glow suffuse the air around me, illuminating Clara with the same light.
“Return here tomorrow,” I tell them. “And we will celebrate the banishment of fear with a party like you’ve never seen. I swear it on my own name.”
I toss a handful of candies high into the air, and they explode in showers of fireworks over the heads of the crowd. A cheer rises, tentative at first, then strengthening, swelling louder.
I alight beside Clara, and she jostles my arm, grinning. “Showoff.”
“Crowds are so fickle,” I tell her. “Let’s go, before they take too great an interest in us.”
We descend the steps at the rear of the platform, leaving the Queen’s crumbling body where it lies. Bits of it are feathering away on the breeze.
As an afterthought, I take a cleaning spell from my pocket, crush it, and toss it backward, over my shoulder. It will make quick work of Her Bloody Majesty.
Ygraine and several other Fae stand at the door of the palace. They have defended it well, and the proof is piled around them—steaming bodies, seared by the throat-fire of a dragonesque Fae and the acid spit of a serpentine Fae. Ygraine herself is wiping the blood from the razor-sharp brim of her hat. Five decapitated guards lie nearby.
“We won’t thank you for your help,” Clara says saucily as we pass the Hatter.
Ygraine smirks. When she salutes Clara, her metallic fingers glitter with blood. “You’ve learned your lesson well, lovey.”
But her smile drops when she meets my eyes. She gives me a serious nod. Her service to the Queen is over, and she is free. This is the final chapter of her part in my life—the resolution we both needed, though we didn’t know it.
I kiss my fingertips to her as I follow Clara into the palace.
35
It doesn’t take us long to find Alice and Riordan. Alice’s scent is still human, so Fin tracks it easily.
We hurry through the door of the room they’re in—a room for linen storage, it seems—and we both stop short.
Alice lies in a pool of blood, with Riordan’s brown body slumped over hers. They’re both naked, slick with gore, unmoving.
“Is he—inside her?” I whisper, horrified.
“The most primal of healing spells,” Fin says quietly. “His cum, spit, tears, and heart’s blood, all applied at once, flooding into a body previously untouched by magic. Let’s see if it worked.”
He advances, gripping Riordan’s massive shoulders and peeling him off Alice. Gingerly he separates the two where they are joined, and Riordan’s body rolls onto his back. There’s a gouged valley in his chest, slowly pumping hot blood. His eyes are closed, and his face is tinged a sickly gray.
“Why isn’t he healing?” I ask.
“I don’t know. But this isn’t good—he’s fading. See the color of his skin?”
“He’s dying?”
Fin nods, his face sober. “He must have cut himself open with her claws while she was becoming Heartless. I need to run for some supplies, so I can make a tonic to counteract the poison. I’ll have to guess at the ingredients—gods, if only I knew more about the toxin—”
“I know what you need.” The voice is barely audible, a croak from Alice’s lips.
The whites of her eyes and her pale gray irises are terrifying in the mask of blood across her face. Her pale skin is painted with gore, but her chest is intact. She has healed completely, flawlessly.
“You need slaintwort, a few drops of bellnettle, a pinch of gorta ichor, a dollop of kelpie seed,” she says to Fin. “I helped Caer mend his wounds after an incident with the Heartless.”
Fin races off at Fae speed, while I take two thick bed sheets from the nearby shelves. I drape one over Riordan’s lower half, and then I approach Alice. Carefully I place one hand on her upper chest, marveling at the beat of her new heart.
