Page 5 of A Court of Hearts and Hunger
“Mallaithe?” I ask.
“The Unseelie city where the Dread Court is located,” Fin explains. “City of Screams, some call it, or City of Torment.”
The Chief Steward interrupts. “What you’re asking is impossible, Drosselmeyer. Trying to rescue a human who is so deep in Unseelie territory—it’s madness. Especially with the rumors of their new Queen and her terrible habits—not to mention her victims, wandering the woods unchecked—”
“It’s not only the girl I’m concerned about,” says Drosselmeyer. “During the incident in the garden, I noticed the maid had a book in her hand. I checked my workshop again, more thoroughly, and I found something missing. The Tama Olc.”
“Well, this keeps getting better.” Fin presses a fist to his forehead. “Why in the names of all the old gods did you have that book?”
“The White Rabbit’s brother had it in his satchel when I captured him,” Drosselmeyer replies. “I kept it, of course. I made him yield control of it to me before I turned him to stone. The book was helpful in the development of my transformative curses.”
I glance at Fin. “What’s the Tama Olc?”
“A compendium of genesis magic,” Fin replies. “It contains the most powerful formative spells known to the Fae. Some of the Fae have always borne traits or even parts of certain animals, but with the Tama Olc, the Unseelie were created. The first Unseelie were dramatic, purposeful blends of Fae bodies with savage animals in disturbing ways, often without the subjects’ consent. The results were beings like the Rat King and the others you saw in his lair. In the wrong hands, that book is a terrible weapon.”
Drosselmeyer’s image in the geode is beginning to flicker and distort, lines of black light skewing aside or disappearing altogether.
“Anything else you’ve conveniently left out of your dire tale of carelessness and stupidity?” Fin asks my godfather.
“Just the maid’s name,” says Drosselmeyer. “She’s called Alice.”
2
I swore I’d never go back.
After what happened to me in the Unseelie Kingdom three years ago—after the things I did, what was done to me—I can’t.
But neither can I allow a mortal woman of twenty years, barely more than a girl, to be the White Rabbit’s prey. I know the kinds of things he does to humans. And I know where he’ll take her. Which is why I have no fucking choice in the matter. I have to go, because I’m the only one who can save her.
But I can’t leave Clara. What if I die in the Unseelie lands? It seems cruel to promise her a long and happy life with me, only to snatch away that dream.
Clara is strong, though. If I died, she would be sad for a while, but she could continue living without me, happy and fulfilled. Humans are resilient.
But I—fuck, I’m selfish. I can’t bear having this life of joy in my grasp and letting it go, for the sake of some foolish mortal I’ve never met.
Resilient humans, foolish mortals—god-stars, I sound like my cousin.
Clara’s small fingers slide over my shoulders, rustling against the silken fabric of my shirt. I’ve been standing at the window of our bedroom, staring out into the night.
I collect her hand in mine and turn, smiling brightly. “Let’s go to bed. We should rest.”
“You don’t have to do this.”
“Do what?”
“Shut me out.” She frowns, reaching up to trace my temple and jawline with her fingers. “You’re not talking, and that worries me, because you talk all the time.”
I try to speak. But the words won’t leave my throat. They are stuck, entrenched, unable to pass my parted lips.
“Try to tell me what you’re thinking,” she says. “I know this is a difficult piece of news, but we have to be able to discuss it.”
I draw away from her, my claws emerging, twitching. She’s backing me into a corner, and the wild side of me hates it, despises being caged, being pressed for answers. I want to run from her.
“Finias.” She takes my jaw in her hand, pulls my gaze back to hers. “I know you have friends who are Unseelie. Couldn’t they help us find this girl, Alice?”
Mentally I run through their faces, their names—everyone I knew during my time with the Unseelie, after I was cast out of my uncle’s court. Several of those faces are linked to my worst memories.
Some memories I’ve tried to embrace freely, wickedly, carelessly, grinding all guilt into powder under my heel.
