mirrorcraft, he could watch all they did, hear all they said.
She wondered if she was meant to be grateful, and offered her best grimace of obeisance. Behind her, Rags succumbed to a coughing fit.
They left, once the thief finally managed to mount his horse without falling off the other side, taking the one road Inis had refused to look at since she’d arrived at the cottage at its farthest end.
Back to the capital, so Morien the dog could report to his master. Back to the Horrible Hill.
Her nose stung with unshed tears. She didn’t set them loose.
If they wanted an Ever-Loyal back on the Hill, they’d get one. Her survival was her rebellion. Let the Queen’s Silver Court see her and remember, every day of their lives, what had been lost when House Ever-Loyal burned.
Eyes fixed on the path ahead, she doused each fresh ember of fury as it threatened to catch flame.
Shining Talon traveled on foot, easily keeping pace with the horses, while Rags, still in poor shape from Morien’s punishment, slumped over the neck of his thoroughbred and bounced with every step. He clutched his right hand against his chest, a wounded bird nursing a broken wing.
Fucking Lying Ones, Two groused. When Inis lifted a brow in surprise at his language, he showed his teeth. You don’t spend as much time as I have around cooks and kitchen wenches without learning how to curse like one. You all right, sweetheart?
I don’t have to be, Inis replied. Has One told you where they are?
Two’s head twitched in a brief shake. Haven’t heard from her. I’ll let you know when I do.
By nightfall, they’d covered good ground, and Inis noticed that Rags was even able to dismount and stand on his own, despite wobbling knees. He refused Shining Talon’s help to keep him upright, cursed enough to teach Two some more colorful phrases for his collection, and dropped by the stack of firewood Inis was trying to light, falling into slumber before he even hit the ground.
Shining Talon covered him with a cloak, lifting his head to place a bedroll beneath it. Inis burrowed deeper into her own cloak and watched the fire lick the twigs.
Once, she caught the fae prince looking at her. It was impossible to read the nacreous silver of his pupilless gaze, but there was no pity there. Nor was there contempt.
She’d expected one or the other. Or both. To receive neither unnerved her.
“You wear the face of a warrior before the battlefield,” Shining Talon said, just loud enough to be heard over the soft snap of the fire.
Inis understood this to mean she was scowling. Rather than soften her expression, she shifted back to watching the fire, only it reminded her too much of herself. Never steady. Burning until there was nothing left to burn. She gazed out, onto the forest beyond, finally up to the canopy of branches over their heads.
“Forgive my lack of courtly manners,” she said, though her nose was pointed in the air.
Shining Talon wasn’t her enemy. The entire realm was Inis’s enemy most days. But one of the fae couldn’t—by his very existence—share in any of that blame. Both of them, she realized with a start, were victims. Both had been stripped of home and family, consigned to the blankest pages of history.
“Your court was taken from you,” Shining Talon replied. Inis, who had been raised on Hill conversation, knitting together half-truths, deceptions, and omissions, found fae honesty as clear and refreshing as creek water on a summer’s day. “As mine was from me. I would rather stand next to one who has suffered than beside a loyal servant of your”—his nostrils flared—“crown.”
Inis’s heart flamed hot. She thought of Morien smirking underneath his scarves, and it relit the fuse within her. That monster could be watching her every move, listening to her every word. Gloating that there was nowhere for her to hide.
Shining Talon knew this and defied it anyway, like he spoke directly to Morien through Inis’s heart.
She reached for Two, palm settling atop the smooth curve of a hind haunch. He rumbled.
“I won’t do anything to put my family at risk,” Inis said. A statement meant for everyone who might have been listening.
Shining Talon settled back next to the sleeping heap that was Rags. Inis hadn’t recognized he’d been tense until he relaxed. The difference between frozen and running water. “I would expect nothing less.”
Inis had no experience navigating fae conversation, but she suspected she’d answered a question