brighter red, I think.
Share a room with Rook.
I would be delighted.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
An autumnal dryad escorted us to our room. I knew her by the vines tying back her yellow-orange hair and the rust-colored leaves tucked into her braids. Her skin was light brown and the tops of her arms rough like pine bark.
Under different circumstances, I might have been awed by our accommodations, the way rays of sunlight warmed my skin through the sky-lit ceiling or how the tranquil blue wallpaper offered an illusion of privacy. Driftwood furniture bleached white by the sun called to mind long hot summers spent on Galveston Island. Periwinkle and sage accents reminded me of home, of the bungalow where I grew up, not the cookie-cutter subdivision where the conclave stashed Mom and me so they could keep an eye on us.
“The High Court will reconvene tomorrow morning.” Her voice rustled like leaves stirred by gentle winds. “Until such time, I ask that you remain here in the quarters provided for you.” She reached in her hair and removed an ornament—a garden snail’s circular shell—and offered it to me. I accepted, and it grew to fill my palm. “Speak into the spout if you have need of me. I will hear your command and obey. The steward will be around soon with food, wine and changes of clothes for each of you.”
I patted Diode’s shoulders. “My friend is also tired and hungry.”
The dryad’s lips pursed. “I will see that a meal and bedding to his liking will also be provided.”
“Tha—” I clamped my mouth shut. “I appreciate your efforts on our behalf.”
She dropped into a curtsy made elegant by the simple earth-toned dress she wore.
When she left, she shut the door behind her. I locked it and braced my forehead against it.
Rook eased behind me, and the weight of his brother’s pelt vanished. He slid his arms around my waist and rested his chin on my shoulder.
Facing the carved panels was easier than looking at him. “Did you kill King Moran?”
“No.”
I nodded, not sure I believed him. “Did you kidnap my mother?”
A slight pause. “No.”
My throat tightened. “Was it your idea?”
A longer pause. “Yes.”
Slowly, I pushed away from the door. Rook stepped back and gave me room to face him. I rested my hands on his shoulders and studied his fathomless eyes for a scrap of remorse. Finding none, I used my grip as leverage, brought my knee up hard to his groin and ruined his chances of siring any heirs. I waited for a wheeze of pure masculine pain then shoved him aside and stalked across the room to Diode.
“Your mother...” Rook cleared his throat and gingerly straightened his shoulders, “...is safe.”
I tucked my hands under my arms to prevent myself from wringing his neck. “How safe?”
“She’s at my home.” His chest heaved. “Bháin is protecting her.”
So close. I had been so near her and had no clue. All of this, the hunt, the deaths, for nothing.
“She was there.” I took a step. “My mom was in your house, and you didn’t tell me? I could have taken her home. None of this had to happen. People died.” I took another step. “I killed for you. None of this was for her. None of this was about me or Macsen. This whole thing was about you.”
“I had no choice.”
“Did my father really fall off the radar, or did you offer him the guest suite across from Mom’s?”
“Your father is, as far as anyone knows, still tracking King Moran’s killer. The parts of Faerie you have seen are tame. I kept you to the safe roads, the light places. Much of Faerie grows wild. He is a hunter. He won’t rest until he finds his mark.”
“Diode?” I glanced at the unusually quiet cat. “Is that true?”
The cat’s broad jaw flexed. All of this was Macsen’s current business. That explained Diode’s silence.
I sank into one of the chairs near an end table. I couldn’t look at Rook. “Tell me you didn’t set all this into motion.”
“Rooks are opportunistic pests.” Diode found his voice and hissed. “Filthy scavengers.”
“He’s right,” Rook admitted. “When King Moran’s death was announced, it marked the end of an era. Since your father’s appointment, there have been no assassinations. The truce between courts has been upheld because your father led the High Court, and he, along with the consuls, mediated before disputes ended in bloodshed. But now all that will change. Already there are those eager to use Moran’s death as cause for