pose that reminded Rags of every Queensguard he’d ever met, the formal style taught on the Hill.
Give me one reason, One’s three eyes seemed to challenge Morien, because I’ve been waiting to tear your throat out.
Shining Talon stepped between them. “One,” he said firmly, looking at Rags.
Rags didn’t think that One was as vehement about keeping Rags alive as Shining Talon was, but after a tense moment, she backed down. Rags grinned shakily, didn’t feel it reach his eyes. “Did you not get your invitation?” he asked the sorcerer, voice cockier than he felt.
“This is One’s master,” Shining Talon said. If feeding information to a Lying One pained him, he didn’t let it show on his exquisitely blank face. A fae fucking prince, so devoted to Rags’s scrap of a life that he’d surrendered to a sorcerer without a hint of resistance. It made Rags furious for reasons he didn’t want to explore, hurt his chest in a different way from the shard of mirrorglass buried in his heart.
“Then you are welcome, One’s master.” Morien didn’t bow, didn’t sound welcoming. An invisible wind stirred the scarves around his face and throat. Morien was doing something magical. “It is my understanding that there is no way to determine when another master might be chosen—might be found. Therefore you must believe I will not harm you. You are invaluable to my interests, which are the interests of the Queen.”
“And if your interests mean nothing to me?” One’s master asked.
Then I die horribly and painfully, Rags thought.
“I insist,” Shining Talon said, “that we respect one another’s interests.”
One’s master met Shining Talon’s eyes and held them. His focus flickered after that, his expression distant. He was listening to something no one else could hear.
Yeah, One was definitely talking to him.
The gaze he leveled at Rags next was scathing—pitying. Rags rolled his eyes and looked away.
“‘Respect one another’s interests,’” One’s master repeated. “What would those be?”
“A full pardon for you, Cabhan of Kerry’s-End,” Morien replied. “A rare gift for a deserter from the Queensguard, wouldn’t you agree?”
A deserter? Queensguard were famous for having no fear—nor any other emotion.
This one had run away. Intriguing.
Rags didn’t miss the flash of anger in Cabhan’s eyes over his introduction. Definitely not emotionless.
“And in return?” Cabhan asked.
Not a total idiot, either.
Morien took a look around the room. “I think it is time for you to meet my employer, before this situation grows out of hand.”
29
Cab
Cab’s past had caught up with him.
Fine. He told himself he’d always known it would. Told himself he’d been waiting for it. Told himself it was a relief to see it done. He’d never have to look over his shoulder again, or trail the next stranger who came to town, unseen, until he was certain they hadn’t been sent to take him.
Told himself he was lucky he’d stayed away, hidden from the Hill, for a full year.
He didn’t believe any of it. Not even with how practiced he’d become at lying to himself.
His greatest fear to this point had come to a head after haunting his footsteps and corroding his soul, but it wasn’t the most important thing in his life anymore. Even if he hated every second of this, he could bear it.
Cab stole a glance at One and nodded to let her know it was all right.
She needed to let Morien handcuff him without trying to snap the sorcerer’s head off.
As satisfying as it might have been to watch her try—to watch her succeed—he didn’t want to be the catalyst for the wholesale slaughter that would follow.
Kerry’s-End folk still carried salt and iron in their pockets while walking at night, though no one had seen fae in hundreds of years. Superstition ran deeper than tradition, was their tradition.
Unlike them, Cab wasn’t afraid. After One, even shocked seemed too strong a term.
The Queen has more secrets than you know, he thought.
And the fae prince had a vested interest in keeping some fool of a thief alive. While Cab didn’t know why, he did know—from the set of Shining Talon’s jaw—that the fae was committed.
Since the thief had been bound by a sorcerer, the same sorcerer who was clapping Cab in irons . . .
There’d be no escaping the situation without making an ugly mess.
Cab wasn’t confident he’d be of any use if One made a move and Shining Talon was forced to protect his interests.
Innocent blood would be spilled, and Cab was done with that.
Back when he was in service to the Queen, he’d fled