Page 92 of A Court of Hearts and Hunger
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The green-skinned Fae takes me to a narrow workroom with a long table down the center. Hats are everywhere—sitting on shelves or dangling from wall pegs and ceiling hooks. In the middle of it all, cross-legged on the table, sits the Hatter. Her clothes are looking particularly ragged—perhaps she’s been picking at them with her sharp, glittering fingers.
In her lap sits a green, velvety hat, unadorned. Her arms are curled around it, and she’s tapping the brim gently. Her eyes are closed, lashes painted in black lines against her brown cheeks.
There are loose papers and slender sticks of charcoal nearby, so I help myself to the supplies and sketch a portrait for the Fae who brought me here. They leave satisfied, admiring the picture.
Cautiously I approach Ygraine, who hasn’t moved or opened her eyes since my arrival. “I came to give you the memory I owe.”
“Sshh. Can’t you see I’m busy?”
“Busy?”
“I’m working,” the Hatter snaps. “You’re an artist. You should understand that the best work happens in the mind.”
“I suppose that’s partly true. How much longer will you be working in your mind?”
She sighs and opens her eyes. “You’ve broken my thought-chain now. They’re such fragile things, thoughts. You’ve murdered them, just as they were about to reveal to me how to decorate this hat. And now the moment is gone. Melted, even as it was forming.” She hurls the hat aside. “How shall I punish you?”
“Can I apologize, or is that too Seelie?”
“No, don’t apologize. Apologies mean less than nothing.” Ygraine hops off the table and snatches up my hand. “Maybe I’ll bite off one of these tasty little fingers. Shall I?”
My heartbeat stutters, even though I know I could heal myself if she did. I’ve got one of the healing spells Fin gave me, still unused.
“Why don’t we sort out the matter of that memory I owe you?” I suggest. “Then we’ll talk about broken thoughts. Maybe I can help you think of something special for the hat.”
“A human pretending to be a Seelie, helping me with my work?” She arches a brow. “That would be a first. Fin used to help me sometimes, when I was stuck. I only knew him for a little while, but it felt like ages. It’s like that with some people, isn’t it?”
“I know exactly what you mean.” I bite my lip, then ask the question gnawing at my mind. “Do you still love him?”
“Love him?” She laughs, shrill and brittle. “I have loved, had loved, would have loved him. But I won’t, can’t, mustn’t, shouldn’t. Not anymore. I loved an idea of him. The sweet insides of him, you see, the soft little heart. But I would never have wanted that heart to be mine. I would have scarred it and ruined it. He’s an animal, Sugar-Boy is—wild as any beast—but he’s too tender to ever be a monster.”
She understands him. Truly knows him.
I reach out, tentative, laying my fingers on her forearm, right above the place where metal takes over from flesh. “I know the Unseelie don’t show gratitude. But I appreciate what you did for him. Trying to save him.”
“It was useless, like most good deeds are.” She jerks away.
“No good deed is ever useless. I truly believe that.”
She stares at me, and a sad smile curves her mouth. “You’re like him, inside. Full of hope so sweet it scorches the tongue and sickens the brain. And yet it’s addictive, that hope.” Sighing, she pats the table. “Sit here, and think of the memory you want me to have. It might hurt a little when I drain it. Consider the pain your punishment for interrupting me.”
When I’m seated on the table, she jabs the points of her fingers into my temples. At least, that’s what it feels like. I inhale sharply, my eyes watering.
Ygraine’s lips twitch, her eyes half-closing. “Choose the memory.”
Gritting my teeth, I think of the orgy in the Rat King’s court, when Fin kept fucking me for hours to keep anyone else from claiming me while his magical energy refilled. I focus on the middle of the night, after the first two orgasms he gave me, and before I turned into a puddle of sated, limp gelatin on the floor.
I feel the connection snap into place between me and Ygraine—I see the memories playing across that link, flowing from my mind into hers. Fin’s yellow eyes, lined with kohl. His dramatic costume. His sweet mouth, the wet glide of his tongue between my lips. The hot, thick swell of his cock inside me, his fingers teasing me to new heights of pleasure.
The memories drain away from me, fading as they become hers—until the middle of that night is a blank, and I can only recall the beginning and the end.
I've been squeezing my eyes shut, and my cheeks are glazed with tears.
“I can’t see any blood through your glamour,” Ygraine says, her head tilted to one side. “There should only be a little. Let me taste you, and clean it up.”
She licks my temples, one after the other, and her tongue comes away tinted faintly scarlet. “There. Just a couple of pinpricks—your human healing abilities should be enough to take care of it. You must go now. Finias will be coming soon to deliver some candies he made for me, to help with the balance.” She taps her forehead.
