Page 78 of A Court of Hearts and Hunger
Caer has wrestled with me, kissed me, played with me, nested with me. The Rabbit has talked to me, answered my questions—which is more than most men have done, in my experience—and despite his professed view of humans, he speaks to me like an equal when we’re talking of magic.
The memory of the Rabbit’s face between my legs—the delight he took in bringing me to pleasure, over and over—it circles in my mind, waking warmth in my body and heart. There’s a tender tug inside me when I think of him, and of Caer. Frightening and fierce as they can be, they have layers, like onions. They have rough skins, like potatoes, with centers that can turn soft under the right application of heat.
The idea of them dying cleaves a trench in my heart. Which is foolish. So foolish. Because twined with that newborn care for them is the pain of missing my siblings, my real family.
What is wrong with me? I don’t know who I am anymore. I’ve changed since I fell through that hole—I’ve become someone else. Someone new and strange. I have this fear, that if I looked into a mirror, I wouldn’t recognize myself at all.
My feet ache from pacing the hard stone floor over and over, but if I stop, I’ll start to panic.
Footsteps on the stairs, and my heart almost flies out of my chest.
Thank the gods.
When the Rabbit appears at the barred window of my cell door, I leap toward him. I don’t even try to hide my eagerness or my concern. “You’re all right. Is Caer back? Is he alive?”
The Rabbit’s ears twitch. “He’s back, and he’s alive. He did not succeed in winning the Queen’s mercy, but someone else took care of the problem. An old pupil of mine. I need to go to Court and see him now, to find out why he’s here. He’s not to be trusted.”
“Are you in danger?” I slip my fingers through the window, curling them around the bars.
“I won’t know until I speak to him. He has far more power than he reveals, and I’m not sure how he plans to use it.”
“Could he be an ally?”
“Sugarplum, an ally?” He snorts. “He is obsessed with the Unseelie way of life, with carnal pleasure and reckless gratification—or at least he used to be. I used to think there was more to him, but I’m not certain of it. I will see how he behaves in Court, how he speaks to the Queen.”
“But the Queen sent you away for the night, didn’t she? Will she be angry if you appear in Court again?”
He grips one of the window-bars, his gloved hand just above mine. A tiny shift, and our fingers would be touching. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you care about my wellbeing, kitten.”
“Not at all. If you and the Cat die, I’ll starve in here.” But I smile at him, just a little.
“That’s why I came to you,” he says. “I will set a spell on this door, so that it will open if I don’t return in six hours. If that happens, you can assume Caer and I are either dead or Heartless.”
“And if you return, you’ll carve me up, just as you planned.” I touch the little cut above my ear. The blood has dried, but it still twinges with pain.
The Rabbit hesitates, his dark lashes dipping low over his eyes for a moment. “It gives me no pleasure to hurt you. I do so out of necessity. Out of pure fucking desperation.” He wheels away, striding up the hall toward the stairs.
“Wait!” I cry after him. “Please—wait.”
His booted feet halt.
“You might die,” I manage. “And I need to know the truth. If things were different—if the situation were not so dire—would you still kill me?”
He doesn’t reply. Nor does he walk away.
“You feel this, between us.” My fingers tighten around the bars. “I know you do. No one gives pleasure like you gave to me without feelingsomething—a bond, a link.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, kitten. Sexual activities can be entirely divorced from emotion.”
“I can’t believe you don’t feel it,” I half-whisper, setting my forehead against the door. “You and I—we’re more alike than I thought possible. And I would say that even if I weren’t your prisoner.”
More silence.
“You might die tonight.” My voice is so fragile I hardly recognize it. “Tell me I’m not imagining it. Give me something… please.”
The light scrape of a boot. One step closer to my cell.
“My name is Riordan,” he says.
