Page 54 of A Court of Hearts and Hunger
He chuckles, but his eyes are sad. “No, there were others. They didn’t live here with us, but we had a close-knit group, a family of sorts. As Unseelie, we develop loyalties rarely, and when we do, they run deep.”
“So for all your talk, you can be loyal and keep your word.”
“To a few trusted friends, yes. And to survive in this kingdom, a Fae needs friends. Mine are gone now, all except Ri—” He cuts himself off.
“That’s the second time you’ve done that. Why won’t you tell me his name?”
“It’s rude to give a faerie’s name to a human without the faerie’s consent.”
“And even though you’re Unseelie, you care about him. You’re loyal to him.”
“He’s a know-it-all who thinks he’s the stars’ gift to Faerie.” The Cat sighs. “But yes.”
“And your friends who turned into Heartless—what happened to them?”
“The Queen sent three of them out of the city. She does that, you see. She’ll rip out your heart and eat it, then have you dragged outside the walls of Mallaithe while your transformation completes. You wander the woods, hunting for living things with beating hearts. Thinking of nothing but the hollow in your chest.” He winces. “At least, that’s how it seems. She keeps about twenty heartless in a walled garden. Two of my friends are in there. It’s off limits, but I’ve been going there to observe them, to see if there’s anything left of their minds.”
“And is there?”
“No.” He downs the rest of his wine and gets up to pour another glassful. “I go outside Mallaithe sometimes, to see how bad it is beyond the walls. And sometimes I prowl the walled garden, watching, trying to figure out why she keeps them, how she’s connected to them. There’s something about her we’re missing.”
“You want her dead.”
“Dozens of Fae have tried to kill her in various ways. Some of them were far more powerful than my friend and I. But yes, we have to end her, Alice. We have to, or this kingdom will fall, and possibly the whole of Faerie. I doubt even the Seelie King could stand against her.”
He takes a long drink. When he sets down the glass, his lips shine red. “That’s why we need you, mousie. And the book. My friend believes there are spells in the book that could help us defeat the Queen. And your body is a source of pure, untouched magic. Your bones, your skin, your organs—all of you can be the ingredients in some very powerful spells. That’s why I can’t take you as mine, even if my friend would allow it. There’s too much at stake.”
“You could fetch some other mortal virgin instead of me.” I hear myself speak the words, and I’m ashamed of them. But I mean them, with all my heart. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to be the mortal fuel for the spell that could save this realm.
Caer’s eyebrows rise. “You want someone else to take your place? Very Unseelie of you, mouse. But no—the magic used to open that portal between worlds is complicated, and it can’t be used too often. The supplies need to—recharge or something—I wasn’t listening when he explained it.” He drains his glass again. “More wine?”
“No.” I take a cautious second sip.
He shrugs, refilling his glass. “I’m going to get fucking drunk. I’d rather not be awake when he cuts you up.”
I hesitate, eyeing the wine. Back home, I only ever tasted ale or mead, in very small amounts. Alcohol was a luxury reserved for my father, consumed regularly after his long days in the fields or at market.
I’ve never consumed alcohol this delicious. And I’ve never been drunk.
With the Rabbit, I experienced the pinnacle of physical pleasure. Maybe, with the Cat, I should indulge in another experience.
I swallow the wine determinedly until it’s all gone. Then I hold out the empty glass for more.
Caer grins. “Well, then. We’re going to need a drinking game.”
15
Clara dodges vines and forges through thorns, toward the sound of the child in distress. My heart is choking me—I can practically feel it thumping on my tongue. I’m terrified for her. A stray step onto a poison pod could send spores into her lungs—contact with tree sap could steal some of her memories—a vine could snatch her up and drink her dry.
But she makes it through, into a large clearing with two lopsided cottages thatched with black vines. The fence around the clearing is built of bones and decorated with skulls and strings of teeth. The stone walls bear stenciled blood-marks, dark spells of protection. Rather pointless and ineffective, I’d say. Both cottage doors have been splintered by the claws of the Heartless.
A reptilian Fae woman lies broken on the ground, her chest torn open, her eyes sightless. She hasn’t risen as a monster herself—not yet—but her body is rigid, spasming as the change begins.
The creature who killed the woman is chewing on her heart, blood slicking its claws and dripping from its stretched-out lips. A second monster is carving into a boy’s chest, while a trio of tiny Fae girls scream and weep for him.
I lunge forward, but Clara is already on the monster’s back, stabbing and shrieking. She hacks through the creature’s spinal cord in a handful of seconds. Gritting my teeth, I sever the head of the reptilian woman before she can complete the change.
I can hear more Heartless shuffling and banging around in one of the cottages. Clara whirls and charges the monster who ate the Fae woman’s heart, while I drop to one knee beside the boy, taking one of the precious healing candies from my stash. This one is formulated for the Fae, designed to work when our natural healing abilities are not enough. I would have brought more if I’d known about the toxin on the monsters’ claws.
