Page 47 of A City of Emeralds and Envy
“Effusive.” He stares. “Where did a farm girl learn that word?”
“From stolen books. The lover I told you about—he used to help me steal them.” I rise, pulling on my dress again. “He would explain the motives of the historical figures or fictional characters in each volume, and he’d help me understand human thought processes and emotions, so I could emulate them. He helped me design the mask.”
“The mask?” He’s lying in the meadow, a naked emerald god among rubies, one arm tucked behind his head.
I stand up straight, shoulders back. With my arms relaxed at my sides, I assume a neutral expression, then a pleasant smile, taking care to soften my eyes, to give them warmth. I know how each tiny muscle of the mask feels, how it should move as I speak, how it reacts to different feigned emotions.
“Good afternoon,” I say warmly, pleasantly. “How is your father feeling? My mother sent me over with some warm broth for him. Is there anything I can help you with while I’m here? Oh, it’s no trouble at all! What are neighbors for?”
West stares at me, shocked. “Oh fuck. Now I really want to rip your throat out.”
I shrug. “Humans like the mask. It makes them feel comfortable. Without it, they can sense something is wrong with me. They watch me, and give me strange looks. So I learned to wear it all the time. Even at home.”
“How exhausting.”
“It was.” I seat myself among the poppies, pluck a blossom from its stem, and tug the petals free, one by one. “Sometimes I would go to the barn during a thunderstorm and scream until I lost my voice. My parents hated that. I frighten them, you see.”
“Do you know which of them slept with a Fae?”
“Maybe my father? I look more like him than my mother.”
West nods. “Your father could have bred a Fae woman while she was in heat. It’s rare that children result from such a union, but it can happen. As an Unseelie, she wouldn’t have wanted the trouble of a half-human baby. She would have either eaten you, sold you, or given you to your human father. In this case we know which she chose.”
“I should be grateful, I suppose.”
“You should.” He rises and summons his clothes back onto his body with a twitch of his fingers.
I watch enviously. “Can I learn to do that?”
“Fae powers vary depending on the individual. Some are inborn, determined by the season, the setting, and the position of stars at the time of birth. Others are learned as the child grows up in Faerie.”
“You mean, since I didn’t grow up here, I missed out on learning certain things. If I stay, could I learn them, over time?”
He studies me, his dark eyes calculating. “But your life is going to be so short, Kin-Slayer. You won’t have time for any of that.”
The sincerity in his voice stings. He still plans to kill me, after what we just did. After the confidences we shared.
“You’re an insidious bastard,” I hiss.
He shrugs. “When an Unseelie Fae’s sibling is murdered, vengeance is expected. I have to avenge my bitch of a sister, whether I liked her or not. I don’t have a choice. We must all wear the masks we are given.”
“Then I will have to kill you first. Pity.” I give him a slow smile. “You have a tolerably serviceable cock.”
“Tolerably serviceable…” He shakes his head, a frustrated laugh skating between his teeth. For some reason, my jabs at his sexual prowess actually unsettle him. Something to remember for later.
He walks over to Riordan and kicks the armor lightly. “I’ll wake your friends in a few moments, so you can run to the sparkly city and beg the Wizard’s favor. Just remember, no wish of yours can protect you from me. I have ways of killing you no matter where you go—even if you flee to the mainland of Faerie.”
I already knew he could spy on us anytime with his scrying stone, but I’d forgotten it until just now. He overheard my conversation with Alice about our wishes. Fuck.
West smirks, pleased at my shock. “That’s right, Kin-Slayer. No matter what you wish for, you’re mine.”
He vanishes in a swirl of green smoke before I can respond, before I can determine why those last two words prompted a thrill through my belly that wasn’t fear, but something else entirely.
17
When I wake, my eyelids feel sodden and heavy, and my skull aches. I’m cold—deeply cold, all the way down to my bones. My stomach churns as I try to get up, and I give a dry retch.
Dorothy pushes me back down. “Lie still until you recover.”
