but being in the room as it happened to someone else wasn’t pretty, warping to unrecognizable horror all perspective, distorting the world itself.
As soon as it had started, it was over. One didn’t melt onto the carpet. The air stopped trying to suffocate them. Morien released the front of Cabhan’s shirt, wiped his hands neatly on a fold of his robes, and turned to Lord Faolan with a slight bow.
Lord Faolan shrugged apologetically. “We learned from experience that such insurance is necessary.”
Cabhan gasped to regain his breath. His hair was soaked with sweat, his eyes wide and sightless. He swayed on his feet but hadn’t collapsed. Had to be one strong bastard to remain standing. One prowled, belly low to the floor, to settle by his side, a grinding noise keening from her throat. Cabhan sagged against her.
Rags bowed his head.
“Morien, what about Shining Talon?” Lord Faolan asked his sorcerer. “Is there any way to know if that insurance will also work on someone with his . . . anatomy?”
“To my knowledge, it has never been tested,” Morien replied. “It is something I intend to pursue. But for now, I don’t believe it will be necessary.”
“Yes, that display did prove as much.” Faolan sighed. “Very well. They can rest in the guestrooms while they recover from their arduous journey—and your welcome, Morien. After that . . .” Faolan approached Rags, then passed him like he wasn’t there, halting in front of Shining Talon. “. . . we’ll discuss how to find the other five fragments. We don’t intend to be barbarous. I really do want you to be comfortable, to extend every possible hospitality.” Lord Faolan lowered himself to one knee after touching Shining Talon’s shoulder sympathetically. Shining Talon didn’t shake him off. “Forgive our drastic measures. Your people would have done the same—did the same, as you can see, by making this Great Paragon so tricky to assemble under one commanding body.”
“That was the point,” Shining Talon said dully.
Rags was going to be sick.
“Caveats, caveats.” Lord Faolan rose to pat the fae’s shoulder companionably. “Fortunately, as a student of law, I’m adept at pinpointing loopholes.”
His hounds followed him out, only too happy to leave that fucked-up room.
33
Rags
Lying on what had to be the world’s biggest, fluffiest bed, Rags still felt like a pile of shit.
Any other day of his life, Rags would have been able to luxuriate in his sudden, incredible fortune. He’d have rolled around like a happy piglet in silks and velvets, figured out what in the room he could steal, and gone to blissful sleep feeling like a prince. Everything smelled clean, and there’d been a tub of steaming-hot water for bathing, a platter of delicacies for his indulgence. It was better than anything even Clave leaders had in their private rooms. It was every street kid’s best fantasy come to life, and Rags was living it.
It tasted sour.
He took his lump out of his pocket and set to peeling it free of its silvery cocoon. He tore off strips of the dark, tarnished stuff, revealing the brighter, near-white silver beneath. The etched designs covering it were like those on the seven doorways he’d seen in the ruins, only these depicted no scene Rags could discern, just a repeating geometric pattern. Interlocking diamonds and sharp arrowheads traveled in a spiral from the tippy-top to the fat middle.
Eventually, he couldn’t stand it anymore. Into the silence that was driving him out of his skin with frustration: “I’m sorry, all right? I’m fucking sorry, Shiny.”
Rags practically felt Shining Talon blink. “Why do you feel the need to express remorse?”
Rags groaned, a hoarse growl. “Why? Why would I? I’ll tell you why. Because I’m nobody. You don’t have to act like my shit’s worth protecting—for a fae prince, you’re an idiot. No wonder you were all conquered, if you’re like this, stupid—”
“It does not sound as though you blame yourself,” Shining Talon said.
“That’s ’cause I don’t apologize,” Rags muttered. “Never had reason to, until lately.”
“The apologies should be mine. I have failed in my duty to protect you.”
“Shut up, Shiny.” Rags grabbed a pillow, intending to throw it, then pulled back at the last second, mashing it over his face. Perfumed. He grunted and threw it away. “I told you, I don’t need that. You should apologize for not listening, if you want to apologize so bad.”
“I do listen. But I cannot act on your instructions when they conflict with what must be done.”