Page 26 of A Court of Hearts and Hunger
“Our lives are not meaningless,” I choke out as he unbuttons my petticoats. They fall to the floor, revealing the plain cotton panties beneath.
“Indeed,” he says dryly. “And pray tell me, what grand plans did you have for your existence? I’ll admit you seem cleverer than some humans, though it’s difficult to tell on such short acquaintance.”
Plans? What plans did I have?
He grasps the hem of my chemise and pulls it up, over my head. I wrap my arms over my breasts and turn to face him.
“I hoped to leave my family’s farm someday,” I whisper. “And I hoped to study plants. I find them fascinating, and I want to know how they work.”
“You’d observe them, dissect them, harvest bits for study,” he says. “Nothing would be wasted, and any indignity or pain they suffered would be in pursuit of knowledge.”
“Yes,” I say slowly. “Though I’m not sure they feel pain.”
“That is exactly what I do, with humans.”
“But we’re alive in a different way than plants are. We communicate, we reason—”
“And you’re so sure plants don’t?”
“I—I think if they do, it’s not the same. They are a lower life form than we are.”
“As you are lower than the Fae.” He notches a finger in the leather collar around my neck and pulls me nearer. His white-clad chest is at eye level; I have to crane my neck to look up at his masked face. My eyes focus on his mouth—broad smooth lips, brown with a delicate lavender tint.
“Would you prefer the mask or my face while I’m examining you?” he says quietly.
“Your face.”
“Very well. Take those off.” He nods to my panties, my last piece of clothing.
I’m trembling, but he said this was simply an exam. He doesn’t plan to remove any pieces of me… yet.
The Rabbit removes his mask and places it beside his row of operating tools. Then he strips off his gloves, drops them into a basin, and takes a fresh pair from a shallow drawer.
Though he’s angled away from me, I can see that his hands are covered with scars. Twisted, shiny, crawling scar tissue, like the skin of a man I once saw, a man who’d survived a barn fire.
“Can the Fae heal themselves?”
He turns one of his hands palm up. “Yes. But certain diseases are beyond our ability. And some magical scars are beyond repair. I’ve tried everything on these, including blood from the beating heart of a virgin, a long time ago. My scars are here to stay.” He pulls on his fresh gloves.
I let my last bit of clothing slip down my legs. “Why is virginity important?”
“The sexual act changes the body in more ways than your human physicians comprehend,” says the Rabbit. “For the Fae, sexual connection is closely tied to our magic and our longevity. We enjoy it, and we indulge in it often, but there are deeper reasons for our obsession with it. For humans, linking with another mortal body alters the nature of your dormant magic. It is decay meeting decay, you see—a redoubled corruption. Blood or parts harvested from a virgin body are fresher, more potent.”
“And what if a human has sex with a faerie for the first time, not a human? Is that decay meeting life? What happens then?”
The Rabbit turns back to me, and I have to sink my nails into my arms so I don’t react to the onslaught of his handsome, terrifying face and his fanged cheek-mouths.
“You are very full of questions,” he says. “Most of the humans I take begin screaming and begging the moment I bring them into this room. They shriek and writhe even during simple, painless exams.”
“Trust me, I’m shrieking on the inside,” I say breathlessly.
“Hm.” He takes my wrists and moves my arms down so my breasts are exposed. “You have a lovely form. Why try to hide it?”
“Why do you hide your face and hands?” I counter.
“It’s not the same thing.”
“The Fae prize beauty, don’t they?”
