Page 65 of A Court of Hearts and Hunger
“Which ones were the best times?”
“Everything from our first two weeks together. And the night after you saw the shop for the first time. And the time when I tied you to that frame in the garden—oh, and the one where you woke me up with your mouth—gods, that was a delight. And you can’t give away the night after the coronation, or that morning I made you come three times in five minutes, or the time I covered you in chocolate and licked every bit of it off, or that time when you put your tongue in my—”
“Yes, yes,” I interrupt, my face flaming. “I remember. Is there a memory you don’t mind me losing?”
He hesitates, mouthing the lollipop. “You could give her part of the orgy in the Dread Court. Not the first or second climaxes, but the rest. She’ll like it, and it won’t cost you much to let it go.”
He’s right—it’s perfect. Most of that night is a blur for me anyway—I loved having Fin inside me, but I was terrified of our surroundings, anxious about what might happen to us. The climaxes were intense and numerous, but it’s a memory I can afford to lose.
Ygraine rises from her spot in the corner and hurries toward us. “All done, all finished, the most exquisite hat. It is everything you are. So right, so true. And I made you one, Sugarplum—it’s yours if you promise to craft those sweet little spells that balance my brain. Don’t make me beg, dear, or do, if you like it.”
“I’d be honored to wear the hat,” Finias says. “And I will happily craft what you need as soon as I can lay my hands on the right ingredients.”
“Yes, yes.” She bobs her head. “A bargain. Shall we strike it in blood or kisses?”
In answer Finias rakes his palm across the points of his triangular teeth and holds his hand out to her. She considers the bloody slash for a moment, then leans over and sweeps up the crimson drops with her tongue.
“My scent on you again,” she murmurs.
Fin’s jaw tightens for a moment. I suspect he’s trying to figure out if carrying her scent poses any kind of danger to our plan. Either that, or he hates having the scent of anyone but me on his body. I hope it’s both.
Ygraine dances back into the dark corner and returns with a hat.
My artistic instincts have been sublimated these past two days, drowned under the more pressing need to stay alive. But that part of me awakens and blossoms instantly at the sight of Ygraine’s creation.
It’s a velvety black top-hat, encrusted with white beads and scarlet crystals that swirl around the crown. Long, graceful, blood-red feathers arch from the hat-band, and the brim is decorated with peppermints and tiny red toadstools flecked with white beads. There’s a small veil of dark-red netting, just enough to cover one eye.
Fin sets the hat on his pink hair at a rakish angle. He drops the satchel and weapons he’s carrying and spreads both arms. His armored clothes evanesce, leaving him naked for a split-second before a new outfit forms— a thin shirt with foamy ruffles, a tailcoat of deep red velvet, a checkered necktie, and high-waisted black pants, shiny as satin. A set of playing cards peeks from the breast pocket of his coat, and a pair of dice dangle from a chain at his belt.
He looks absolutely magnificent.
Ygraine claps her metal hands together, a clanging screech that sets my teeth on edge.
“You are as skilled as ever, Sugarplum,” she says.
Finias bows. “You as well. Your magic flows easily through these new hands, I see.”
“Flows, fidgets, fumbles—yes, yes. I had them made, and then the White Rabbit spelled them for me. Didn’t ask much in return, either—not nearly what the spell was worth. I do believe there’s a speck of Seelie in him, even if he is fucking the Queen.”
“He’s what?” Fin exclaims.
“Oh yes. I suspect he’s only doing it so she’ll let him keep his home and continue his research. But perhaps he likes it.” Ygraine shrugs.
I glance warily at Fin. If Ygraine is friends with the White Rabbit, this could get complicated. “Opal told you why we’re here, didn’t she?” I ask cautiously.
“To steal a human girl and a spellbook from the Rabbit. Yes, I know.”
“And you’re all right with us stealing from him, even though he helped you?”
“Why shouldn’t I be? I steal from my friends all the time!” Ygraine flashes me a wicked grin.
Fin meets my incredulous glance with a shrug. “Welcome to the world of the Unseelie, sugar.”
“Now it’s your turn, Clara!” crows Ygraine. “You must put on your hat, painter of worlds, sketcher of stories, mortal girl who swallowed the eyes of a goddess and breathes beauty through her fingers.”
She ducks back into the corner and brings out the hat she made for me.
It’s a small cap made of wide red ribbons, overlapping in an intricate braid-like pattern. Stiff veils of black netting stand out from the cap in undulating swirls, like ocean waves arrested in motion. And perched on those waves of netting are delicate butterflies, each with one white wing and one black. They look real enough to flutter away at any second.
