Page 58 of A Court of Hearts and Hunger
Fin is going to tell me his darkest secret. What happened to him three years ago.
I wait patiently as he gnaws his lip, puncturing his own skin with a sharp tooth. I wait longer while he inhales deeply and blows out the breath.
“I was lost after Lir’s father banished me from Court,” he says. “I wandered, I explored, and I became addicted to danger. I was fascinated by spells and substances that could affect the mind and its perceptions—an obsession which led me deep into the Unseelie kingdom. I became addicted to some of their more powerful drugs—mind-flayers, melters, and dreamstalker mushrooms. Since I was delirious more often than not, it’s a miracle I learned anything from my studies with the White Rabbit. I want to believe that had I not been out of my head, I would never have stood by while he tortured humans for his research.”
He pauses, avoiding my eyes. “I won’t say I deserved what I got. But perhaps I had it coming. It happened right after the Carnage Revel of Imbolc. I’d been introduced at the Dread Court, where I performed some entertaining spellwork. That revel was a dreadful thing to witness, even though I limited myself to the more harmless indulgences of the evening.”
The forest is growing gloomy, and Fin twirls his ring-laden fingers, his black claws gleaming as he produces a small orb of orange light that rises to hover above our heads.
“The worst didn’t happen at the Rat King’s court, but the next night, at a private house party. Twenty guests, all acquaintances of mine, were hand-picked by the hostess, Magda, for an orgy. I was the star attraction. She didn’t tell them my special quality until we were all very drunk.”
He half-turns away from me, staring into the shadowed forest.
“They were all excited to sample my flavors. They cheered for me, the Seelie sex freak, so I got up and stood before them and—well, as you can imagine, they enjoyed taking turns sucking me off, drinking me down. Eventually I grew tired, and uncomfortable with the attention. I wanted to stop. But they gave me more to drink, a mushroom-infused tea spiked with liquor. As I later found out, it was also laced with worse things.”
I step to his side and tuck my arm through his.
“That drink stole my magic,” he continues. “Temporarily, yes, but it left me dizzy, defenseless, and helplessly aroused as they continued to enjoy themselves at my expense. And then one of them said, ‘If his cum tastes this good, imagine how delicious his flesh must be!’”
“Oh gods, Fin.” My words are a broken whisper.
“The Unseelie practice the consumption of flesh, particularly of humans and Seelie Fae. It should not have surprised me that they would treat me, not as a friend, but like any other Seelie captive. They began to bite me, Clara. And then they grew bolder and sliced off pieces of my flesh—you can imagine which parts they chose to consume first.”
I wrap my arm tighter around his, feeling him tremble at the recollection.
“I couldn’t stop them,” he says, low. “I knew I would heal, as long as the damage wasn’t too deep—I could survive it. But gods, the agony. The helplessness. The sound of them chewing mouthfuls of me—”
I want to retch, but I fight it down.
“Only one person tried to stop them—a girl I’d spent time with during the week prior to the Imbolc revel. At the Dread Court, we’d play pranks on the other guests between sessions of frenzied fucking. I made sure she was invited to the orgy. When things took a bad turn, she saw how I was suffering, and she screamed at the others to leave me alone. She began fighting them—clawed the eyes out of the hostess to get their attention. Well, once Magda regained her sight, she ordered her servants to dispose of the girl. I saw her being dragged away—I thought they killed her. At the time I barely understood what was happening, I was so crazed with the drugs and my own torment.”
I squeeze his arm. “The girl is the Hatter you and Opal spoke of.”
“Yes.”
This Unseelie girl cared about him. Tried to save him. If he’d known she survived, would he still be with me?
I want to test his emotions on the topic without making this conversation about me—because it isn’t. It’s about him, finally trusting me with everything.
“You’re glad she’s alive,” I say carefully.
“Of course I am. But she is not the true mate of my heart.”
Clever man, to see right through my cautious statement. Sweet man, to reassure me even while telling this tale of his personal horror.
“The anguish went on for hours,” Fin continues quietly. “I would heal, and they would pour more tea down my throat and do things to me all over again. At last they were full and sated, and they slept, while I lay naked and ruined in the middle of the carnage. Somehow, I slept, from sheer exhaustion and pain, I think. When I finally regained consciousness, I was healed in body, and my magic had returned, but I had no will to avenge myself. No fury, no bloodthirst. I was empty. I could feel nothing but sadness. I remained in Mallaithe for another day, only so I wouldn’t look weak to them, and then I fled back across the border and stayed with Opal for a while.”
“Did any of them express regret for what happened?”
“Not one. They acted pleasant to me, as if we were still friends, as if my very presence at the orgy had been consent enough for what they did to me. To them, it wasn’t wrong at all.” He inhales a shuddering breath. “Seeing Magda in the Rat King’s court was bad enough. But she did not actually partake of me that night. I suppose my true fear is that if I encounter the other guests from that orgy, the memories will become sharper and clearer than my mind can handle—that mentally I will go back to those moments when I was watching my body be devoured by the laughing, bloodstained mouths of the people I’d called my friends.”
This. This is why I’m here with him. He and I won’t be side by side at court, but if our plan works out, we’ll be near each other. He’ll feel my presence. By being in the same room, I’ll give him strength. And if anyone tries to hurt him, I will hack them to pieces, even if I die doing it.
“You have more reason to hate the Unseelie than most of the Fae in Lir’s kingdom,” I say. “Yet you defend the Unseelie, always. You maintain that there are good Fae here, people worth knowing.”
“I see how thin the line is between me and them. With the slightest change in my circumstances, I might be no different than they are.” He hesitates, and I know something else is coming, some other revelation he’s afraid to confess. “I’ve tasted flesh, Clara. Twice. And that was enough to trigger the primal beast in me, one I must keep leashed at all times. It’s easier for me to control it than it is for someone who grew up Unseelie, someone who has been taught that nothing is forbidden. The Unseelie are schooled in cruelty from birth. Some of them consume their partners’ flesh as a regular part of lovemaking. And they are used to taking what they want, or what they deem they deserve, without asking for it. Damaged as they are, all they can do is enact more damage upon others. In that respect it isn’t entirely their fault. Many of them are exquisitely talented, wonderfully creative, or uniquely lovely in one way or another.”
“You see the value in them.” I move in front of him and reach up, my hand hovering over his cheek, because I want to touch his skin but I’m not sure if he can bear it in this moment.
