Page 76 of A Court of Hearts and Hunger
The cat-eared Fae, Caer, has taken a seat at the edge of the platform, near me. His tail lies near my foot, thrashing with agitation. It’s very distracting.
At last he rises, prowling restlessly around me.
“You’re the second tastiest thing I’ve seen in the past week.” He picks up one of my jars of paint.
“Second tastiest?” I arch an eyebrow.
“The other is a delicious human I’m trying to bed, or eat—I haven’t decided which yet.”
I keep my expression smooth, nonreactive. Could the “delicious human” be Drosselmeyer’s kidnapped maid?
“Have you tasted human flesh before?” Caer asks casually, spinning one of my paintbrushes between his fingers.
“I just arrived in Mallaithe. I haven’t had the opportunity.”
“You came in by the Calamity Gate?” His tone is sharp.
“Yes. Is there some danger in that area?”
“Count yourself fortunate you got in when you did.” He runs the tip of the brush handle along his upper lip and lowers his voice, speaking beneath the applause for the juggling act. “Our kingdom is rather different lately than it used to be.”
“So I’ve heard.”
He seems distracted and faintly distressed. I need to become more interesting than whatever is plaguing him. Our access to the White Rabbit’s workrooms and dungeon depend on it.
I adjust my position on my stool, purposely allowing the slit in my gown to part, showing the full length of my right leg.
Caer moves nearer. With the dry paintbrush, he draws a line from my knee up to my inner thigh.
“You seem frustrated,” I say in my silkiest voice. “In more ways than one. This girl you want—she resists you?”
“There are reasons I can’t have her.” He’s still stroking my inner thigh with the paintbrush, working his way higher, toward my center. I allow myself a little shiver, a subtle indication that I enjoy the touch.
“You should find relief elsewhere,” I suggest.
The Cat exhales, and his tail curls softly around my calf. “Perhaps I should.”
He circles behind me, his fingers sliding over my shoulder, down my front, toward my breast.
“I need to concentrate,” I whisper. “If I don’t do well, I won’t see the dawn.”
“True.” He withdraws. “Perhaps I’ll find you later, if the Queen approves your work.” His claws graze along my neck, and I reward him with another delighted shiver and a catch of my breath.
“Sensitive little Seelie,” he murmurs. “I do hope you survive the night.”
He seems about to say something else, but at that moment, the next entertainer comes forward—a familiar figure with pink hair and a serrated smile.
Relief washes through me.
Finias. My bold, beautiful Sugarplum. He’s here. Whatever may have happened at the gate, he made it through.
He has altered the red tailcoat since he conjured it in the tower. It’s longer now, and it flows out wide behind him, yielding a peek at his gauzy wings. His black satin pants gleam as he strides forward, and the dice at his belt bounce with every step. Ygraine’s velvety feathered top hat perches on his head.
All eyes in the court focus on him as he strides up to the dais, surrounded by a hail of red sugared hearts and glittering, spidery black candies.
I love him. Everything about him. He is sweet and deadly, reckless and clever, funny and tender. My stomach flutters and thrills at the sight of him, and I have to smother a giddy smile.
When Fin reaches the steps, he makes his obeisance, much as he did months ago, when he came to save me from the Rat King.
