Page 60 of A Court of Hearts and Hunger
The closer we get to the ruined tower, the more loudly my mind and body chorus a warning. There’s something threatening in the very shape of the place, a cruelty in its jagged angles and crushed stone. The black vines wrapped around it add another layer of menace. In fact, I think the vines are shifting, slithering. “Those vines, Fin…”
“I see them.” He pulls me into the shadow of a nearby tree. “Before we go in, I want to give you a few spells. I prepared them at home, and I’ve been keeping them in my other pocket.”
His other pocket—the dimensional cleft in which he stores things. I cup my hands, but he turns them over, palms down. “Spread your fingers, sugar.”
When I do, he produces a ring from thin air, a chunky thing shaped like a dragon’s head. It looks heavy, but when he slides it onto my finger, it’s surprisingly lightweight and comfortable.
“These rings are charmed to prevent the detection of the spells inside. There’s an attack spell in this one—a blast of magical fire that will keep burning while you escape the danger. Pry open the dragon’s mouth, and inside is a tiny pellet, no larger than a pebble. Simply throw it at your target.”
I nod, starting to pull back my hands, but another ring appears between his fingers. “This one is set with a false stone, but it’s just a faceted bit of glass to cover the true contents of the ring. Flick the latch, lift the cover, and you’ll find a tiny healing candy inside. I’m giving you three of these, just in case.” He slips them onto my fingers. Each is a slightly different design, but the stones are all green. “The spells I fabricated myself, but the rings I obtained from the intelligence arsenal in Beannú. They’re usually used by palace spies. When I sayobtained, I mean I stole them.” He grins.
“How do you make the healing spells?” I ask. “What’s in them?”
“That’s a conversation for another time.”
Something in his tone piques my interest. “Fin. Tell me.”
“There are a number of recipes for human healing,” he says reluctantly. “Some are crafted from herbs, but even those must contain—a Fae substance.”
“Substance?”
“Fae blood, usually. On its own it can’t heal a human, but when blended with other spelled ingredients, it does the trick. But the most potent and immediate healing spells, like these—they must contain three vital substances from a Fae.”
“Which means…”
“Only trace amounts, sugar. When they’re worked into a spell and compacted in this form, it doesn’t take much.”
“Much of what?”
He winces. “I typically use my blood, spit, and cum. Tears, sweat and piss are also options. A triad of raw fluids from a Fae, correctly applied to the energy centers of the human body, would have the same effect, but I’m sure you prefer my method—crafting it all into delicious candies.”
I gape at him. He’s grinning brightly, but his eyes dart aside guiltily, nervously.
“You gave my sister some of your healing sweets!” I gasp, hammering his chest with my fists. “With your—your cum and—that’s so disgusting, Fin!”
“She did use one of the herbal spells with my blood, for bathing.” He fends me off, half-laughing. “The ones I gave her while we traveled—they contained my blood, tears, and spit. A less intimate or ‘disgusting’ option than the other fluids, wouldn’t you agree?”
“I suppose.” Mollified, I give him one last punch. “Do I get more rings?”
“Greedy little darling. Of course you do. This one contains a sleeping powder, and this one is a backup with the same powder, in case the first one fails to knock out your target—which will most likely be the White Rabbit or his friend. This one provides invisibility for a short time, this one can unlock any door that has been spelled shut, and this one gives you extra speed for a handful of seconds, just enough to fool someone regarding your Fae nature, if questions arise.”
“What about magic? Won’t they suspect me if I don’t have any?”
“Not all Fae have usable magic. For some, the powers are subtle, or latent. Others are born without any magical abilities at all—they’re called ‘Inert.’ But they usually have an abundance of talent to compensate.”
“And that’s my angle.”
“Precisely. You’re a Seelie artist, Inert but talented, looking to serve a more lethal set of clients. It’s not unheard-of for young, restless Seelie to visit the Dread Court—even though they rarely survive it. The Unseelie are generally stronger because of their unsavory fucking and feeding habits, so they don’t forbid the Seelie from visiting, because they don’t view Seelie guests as a threat. More like a temporary amusement that will eventually become lunch.”
“Gods.” I ripple my fingers, admiring their new decorations. “At least I have these.”
“Be cautious about how and when you activate them. We have no idea how long we’ll be within the walls of the city.”
His fingers graze the underside of my wrist. He’s looking into my eyes, and there’s such a tempest of love and concern in his golden gaze I can barely breathe.
“Last chance to go back to the border,” he whispers. “Once we’re in the city, if you tell me you want to leave, I’ll try to make it happen, but it will be harder.”
“I’m not leaving some helpless human girl to be tormented and killed,” I reply. “And there’s the Tama Olc, too. It’s safer out of the White Rabbit’s hands, yes?”
