Page 15 of A Court of Hearts and Hunger
She lets out a soft giggle. “Such a strange thing for you to obsess over.”
“As if you don’t obsess overmyears, sugar. You fondle them every time we make love.”
“That’s fair.” She blushes and adjusts the pack on her back. I’m carrying two satchels, one on each shoulder so they don’t pin my wings too heavily.
“We’re meeting your friend somewhere around here?” she asks.
“Yes, and staying with her tonight, I hope. Tomorrow she’ll take us across the border into the Unseelie kingdom—providing she approves of you.”
“A former lover of yours, I’m guessing?” Clara says dryly.
“Actually, no.”
“By the old gods!” She gasps, clutching her chest. “You mean there’s someone left in Faerie you haven’t fucked?”
“Very funny. And yes, there is. Not for lack of trying, however. I plied every seductive method I know on Opal, and she was entirely immune to me.”
“I look forward to meeting this goddess of restraint,” Clara says. “Perhaps she can teach me how to resist you.”
“Well, now you’re making me rethink this plan.” I catch a lock of her hair in my fingers. “We can’t have her turning you against me.”
Damn it, why is the deep coppery tone of her hair so enticing? And the scent of it—like flowers, and rich blood, and molten gold—
“No one could turn me against you, Fin,” Clara says softly.
Oh, how I hope that’s true. But I know some people in Mallaithe who could tell stories of me that might change her mind.
“The White Rabbit doesn’t just live in Mallaithe—he lives in the palace itself,” I tell her. “In a tower on the northern side. To access his workrooms and dungeons, to find Alice and the book, we’ll have to infiltrate the Dread Court.”
“I know.” There’s a healthy dose of fear in Clara’s brown eyes, but also a little more excitement than is probably wise. Not that I’ve ever been particularly wise myself. “You’ve explained what I have to do. I need to charm the White Rabbit’s friend, the cat-eared Fae who lives with him.”
“Yes. The Rabbit himself is far too choosy with his lovers, but the Cat is a lazy, needy little bastard. He’ll fall for you easily.”
“And you can’t get into the house yourself? With all your magic?”
“The White Rabbit is as paranoid as he is powerful,” I tell her. “He isn’t much for offensive magic, but he’s a master of defense, and he has layered his lair with countless spells. The amount of magic I’d have to expend getting inside would leave me powerless. But once the Cat brings you into the house, you can knock him out with a sleeping powder and then let me in. Trust me, if I thought I could finagle an invitation into the Rabbit’s den, I would. But we didn’t part well. Which is why you and I will need to pretend we don’t know each other while we’re at Court. Neither the White Rabbit or his friend will trust you if they suspect a connection between us.”
“I understand.” Clara gives me a saucy grin. “I get to ignore you entirely while I seduce a hot faerie because you pissed off his powerful friend.”
“Don’t look so excited, you little vixen.” I pinch her cheek lightly. “We have our plan, our spells, and our disguises. But to fool the Unseelie, you must think like them, act like them.”
I pause on the path, my feet rooted by the heaviness of what I need to say. “Are you ready for that, dearest? Are you ready to dredge up the darkest impulses of your wild heart, stir up every naughty compulsion, voice every cruel thought? Are you ready to step with me into the darkness? Because if you aren’t, you may tell me anytime, and I will take you home. Forget the kidnapped girl and the stolen spellbook. You are my entire realm, and I will commit any atrocity to secure your happiness.”
Clara takes my hand and presses it between both of hers. “I shouldn’t like it when you say things like that. I don’t want you to ‘commit atrocities’ for my sake—that would break my heart.”
“But part of you loves that I’d fracture the world for you.”
She gives me a wicked little smile of admission. “I feel the same way about you, though I have less power to carry out the threat.”
“You’re capable of more than you know.” And I mean those words. No one else witnessed her defense of my fallen body against the Rat King and his soldiers, and when she told me about it, she did so with shy self-deprecation. But I’ve pictured it a thousand times—my girl, standing over me, clad in ribbons, wielding her whip, unleashing all the ferocity in her heart. I wish I could have seen it with my own eyes.
As we continue walking, Clara takes out her whip and begins flicking it idly back and forth—a coincidence that amuses me, since I was just thinking about the first day she used it. I still marvel at how connected we are, she and I. Two beings of a different race, gender, and background, yet we are parallel hearts, matched souls, mirrored minds. Distinctly ourselves, and yet attuned to each other, almost from the moment we met.
Clara sends the whip snaking into a tree, where its tip severs the stem of a jellyfruit. She flicks the whip again, slicing through the fruit with terrifying ease. Then she glances at me with an excited grin, and I smile back to show her I was watching.
Months ago, shortly after our final farewell to Drosselmeyer at the portal, I sealed the whip with some of Clara’s blood, so it wouldn’t evanesce like the clothes I conjure. Since then I’ve experimented with making other weapons. I’m limited, since I can’t conjure metal—and I haven’t created anything I liked enough to make it permanent. I do believe Clara’s whip may have been a once-in-a-lifetime achievement, born out of the danger and passion of that moment, during our battle with the Rat King’s forces.
As the darkness deepens, I conjure a few orbs for illumination. They’re pink, and they carry my scent—an aura of power that will hopefully warn away anything that might try to disturb us. The Rat King’s monsters have been purged from the land, with the exception of a few stragglers—but there are other things that haunt the night in Faerie, and most of them are not kind to humans. The Seelie at Court might consider themselves high-minded and just, but out in the wild, in the hamlets and forests, the law of the King is not always followed or enforced.
