Page 68 of A Court of Hearts and Hunger
“No more questions. I understand.” Tears pool in my eyes, but I open my mouth obediently and put out my tongue.
But he doesn’t move. He stands there, clutching the tools.
I can’t see his expression, beyond the tightness of his lips, the hard flex of his jaw.
“Fuck,” he whispers.
He lays down the clamp. Takes my tongue between his gloved fingers for a moment before releasing it. He strokes one finger along my lower lip, down to my chin, then traces the line of my jaw.
I’m weeping silently as he fingers the curve of my ear.
“You didn’t yield me the book, so I will not ease your pain,” he says. “That was the bargain I offered—a gentler death in exchange for your cooperation.”
I nod. “Do what you want to me.”
“What I want,” he murmurs. “What do you think I want to do to you, kitten?”
“You want to take me apart,” I whisper. “And make me scream.”
His fingers stroke around my ear, pushing away my hair, exposing the flesh. My eyes close, pushing out more tears.
A cold line of metal. The blade, pressing at the root of my ear.
I don’t fight him or scream at him, not even when the blade bites in, releasing a trickle of blood. The way my body and my heart cry for him even as he cuts into me—it’s obscene. It’s wrong.
He’s doing this because he believes he must. Because he thinks it’s the only way to save his kingdom, and the entire realm of Faerie, from the Heartless and their Queen.
“Give me the book, Alice,” he says hoarsely. “Yield possession, and I will make this painless for you. A few small words, and the thing will be done.”
“If you’re going to kill me anyway, the least I can do in vengeance is make you wait a year before you can use the book,” I reply.
The knife bites a little deeper, and I suck in a sharp breath.
“Does that hurt?” he says softly. “Think of all the pain my people have endured—their bodies torn open, their beating hearts scooped out to feed this Queen and her mindless victims. By yielding the book and your body to me, you will be helping them, kitten. Who knows if her madness will stop in Faerie? She might find a way to bring this terror to your world as well. Imagine her gnawing on the hearts of your little brothers and sisters.”
“Don’t speak of them to me,” I grit out.
“You dreamed of it,” he murmurs. “Your mind was tormented by a vision of the Queen coming to your world. Prophecy or fear, who knows? But I saw it unfold in your nightmares.”
“Liar,” I breathe through a sob.
The knife vanishes from my ear and his hand cups my throat, right beneath my chin. He turns my head toward him, at the same time pulling off his mask to look at me with naked, tormented eyes.
“I will never lie to you again. I swear it.”
I lock eyes with him, and I let every tortured emotion, every jagged spear of longing pierce through my gaze.
Something latches into place between us. Not the cozy, playful, domestic happiness I shared with Caer—no, with the Rabbit it’s something violent, visceral—a hollow craving—a heart-shredding, bone-cracking desire. A furious pain.
“Do you know what I want?” he says raggedly, tucking his thumb between my lips and prying my teeth slightly open. “I want to come on this little tongue. I want to whisper foolish words into this soft, round ear. I want to feel these slender fingers on my body. I want these eyes to look at me with reproach, with curiosity, with lust, with joy. But I cannot let myself have any of that. Because when such a source of power is given to me, I must believe I am destined to use the gift for my people, to rid them of this torment. And why should I value one human life beyond the lives of countless Fae?”
“But the Queen is immune to magic,” I whisper. “Others have tried to kill her, and failed. What if you use parts of me in spells, and none of them work? My death will be pointless. Devise the spell first—one you know can break through her defenses—and then take what you need.”
“But I don’t know what to try!” he exclaims. “I will get one chance at her, so I need to have an arsenal of powerful spells prepared. I’m the only one who can do this—no one else has access to the resources I have. She hasn’t taken my workrooms and supplies from me yet, because she trusts me. I’ve made her believe that I worship her. One chance, kitten, that’s all I have—and you won’t yield me the Tama Olc, the one resource that could help me devise her end.”
“Promise you’ll spare my life.”
He shakes his head. “I can’t promise that, not until I see the spells in the book. To cast one or more of them, I may need something vital from you.”
