Page 19 of A Court of Hearts and Hunger
I should have run away from the Rabbit when I saw him standing on that path by the hedge. I should not have wandered, or wondered.
“She is mine.” The Rabbit’s white-gloved hand slides around my waist, over my stomach.
“You promised I could have the next one,” repeats the Cat. “I want to taste her.”
A ragged hiss of frustration bursts from the Fae behind me. His palm moves from my waist, and there’s a faint rattle as he produces a handful of translucent dice, as blood-red as if they were carved from rubies.
“I’ll play you for her,” the Rabbit says. “If I win, she’s mine, and you get the next one. If you win, I’ll let you borrow her a while before I harvest her.”
The Cat’s eyebrows arch even more dramatically. “Deal.”
“Do I get a choice in the matter?” My voice sounds pathetically weak.
The cat-eared faerie pulls back, blinking at me with his slit-pupiled eyes. “Does the mouse get to choose which cat devours it?”
“Maybe,” I say stoutly. “Perhaps it thinks one is prettier than the other.”
His terrifying grin expands. “Which of us do you think prettier, human? Ah, but wait—we must make this a fair contest.” He looks at the Rabbit, wickedness leaking through his wide smile. “Take off the mask, my friend.”
I twist a little in the Cat’s grasp, enough to see the Rabbit’s jaw harden. He doesn’t like this idea. But he reaches up and grips his mask, removing it slowly. It must seal itself to his skin by magic, because I don’t see a string to hold it in place.
The Rabbit is handsome—or he would be, except that in each of his cheeks, parallel to the slanted cheekbones, there’s an eye-shaped wound in the flesh, an open gash, yielding a glimpse of the gums and teeth in his mouth. His eyes shine a virulent red.
I can’t hide the shudder that runs over me at the sight of his face.
“We’ve already agreed to the bet,” he says tightly. “We’ll play for her. She doesn’t get a choice.”
“I don’t mean to be rude, but—if you are Fae, can’t you glamour yourself to look different?” I ask. “Like you glamoured the room you showed me?”
“She saw through one of your glamours?” exclaims the Cat.
“No, she did not,” snaps the Rabbit. “Something tipped her off. She’s a curious, suspicious creature.”
“Stop talking about me as if I don’t exist,” I say.
The Rabbit’s gloved hand flashes up, sealing over my mouth and jaw, a painfully tight grip. “We’ll talk about you however we like, and we’ll do with you as we please. To answer your question, not every Fae is gifted with the ability to create and hold a physical glamour, one that changes their own appearance. And some of us prefer to use our energy for more important things, not personal vanity.”
The Cat lifts my arm and delicately sniffs the underside of my wrist. His purple tongue snakes out, leaving a long wet streak on my flesh.
“No biting,” orders the Rabbit. “Come to the smoking room, and we’ll play for her.”
“We gamble for everything,” the Cat says companionably to me. “It makes life so much more interesting.”
The Rabbit scoffs. “As if we needmoreuncertainty in our lives. How was your walk this morning? Or should I say your prowl?”
“I stayed in the trees, where they couldn’t reach me,” replies the Cat. “There are more of them every day.”
The exposed teeth in the Rabbit’s cheeks champ and tighten before he growls, “The Queen is out of control. At least with the Rat King we knew what to expect, what he wanted. This Queen—I don’t understand her goals at all.”
“Because she’s mad,” says the Cat airily. “Of course, we’re all mad here, but she’s madder than most.”
“That is why the appearance of the Tama Olc is most fortuitous,” says the Rabbit.
The look they exchange makes me unbearably curious. I don’t know what “fortuitous” means, but it sounds important. The more I can learn about where I am and who these Fae are, the better chance I’ll have to escape and get back home.
As I’m hustled through the strange house by the two faeries, I send up a prayer to any deity who might be listening.
If you get me safely home, I swear I’ll never complain about changing, feeding, or carrying my little siblings, ever again.
