Crown of Moonlight (Court of Midnight and Deception #2) - K.M. Shea Page 0,88
stopping her.”
“It’s fine. What about you, Rime, do you know?” I tried not to hope too much, but what little bit I was nursing came crashing down when the Winter Queen shrugged.
“I heard of the attempts on your life—I assumed it was Fell,” she said.
“Did he ever say anything about it?” I asked.
“No.”
“That’s just great.” I sighed. “What do we do now?”
“We wait for them to sober up,” the Paragon said. “And then you all leave.”
“Didn’t you have any specific questions to ask them?”
“No. I didn’t really expect to get anything useful out of this meeting,” the Paragon said. “I mostly invited you all over because Fell would not stop sniveling. Now—even if he doesn’t remember the tea—he’ll at least stop coming to me complaining about you.”
“Why am I not surprised?” I grumbled.
“It’s a ruthless time to be a fae.” The Paragon raised his teacup to his lips, then shook his head when he realized what he was doing, and poured out the tea on a nearby flower bush. “What about you? Did you learn anything?”
I was about to give him an emphatic no—I’d stupidly wasted my moment to find out who the heck was plaguing me. But I paused when I saw Birch cram another finger sandwich in his mouth and Verdant salute Rime with her teacup.
“They’re scared,” I said. “Just as scared as I am. They’re afraid of losing their power and their realm—not because they want it, but because of the consequences. They’re scared of magic dying out.” I paused. “Does Birch really have a daughter?”
The Paragon nodded. “Indeed. He’s kept her a secret—though he and Flora told me when she was born.”
“But why?”
“Birch dearly loves Flora. She’s everything to him, and he nearly lost her shortly after they were married when a servant poisoned her food. Once she was pregnant, he was terrified he wouldn’t be able to protect her. He sent her into seclusion until their daughter was born. Of course, when he set eyes on his daughter he loved her, too.”
“Is that why he tries a bite of everything Flora eats?” I asked.
“His worry for them has made him something of a paranoid lunatic,” the Paragon said.
I scowled at the Summer King. “He’s still a jerk.”
The Paragon spread his hands out in front of himself. “All of them are scheming and cunning—and they’d cut your throat out without a second thought. Except Solis, in your case, I think. He’s finally stopped coming to me and crying about the Night Court ever since you became queen. You’ve been good for his nerves.”
“I don’t understand—why don’t they work together?” I asked. “Like Rime and her siblings?”
“Fear is a terrible thing, Leila. It can isolate you, and play to the worst parts of you so you can’t even see logic anymore because you are too paralyzed,” the Paragon said. “And even worse, if left to fester, fear will produce bitterness and then hatred, which will lead you to strike out against the very thing that could save you.”
I looked from Fell to Birch, and almost against my own will, I could feel a tiny sliver of me understand them. “I’m pretty freaked out about my inability to save my shrinking, decaying realm, so I guess I can understand why they’re scared—though I’d never be such a mule about it like they are.”
“Pah—you worry too much about the state of your realm,” the Paragon said. “Just lean into your connection with the realm, and the land will start to mend.”
Connection with the realm? What the heck is he talking about?
“Connection?” I asked.
“Yes, you know how you can feel the land itself?”
I didn’t, actually. But before I could ask him to clarify, the Paragon continued.
“There’s a reason why Fell bitterly hates you, Leila,” he said. “It’s the same reason why all of the Courts snubbed you initially. Because you have done things differently, and you succeeded where they are still locked in a constant struggle.”
“Have things always been like this?” I asked. “This hopeless?”
The Paragon shook his head. “We fae have always been blessed with cunning, but when magic started to die out we saw Courts turn against one another. Those who lost land resented those who didn’t, and the bigger Courts started to take advantage of the smaller…” He shrugged. “It’s an inescapable cycle. Or at least, I thought it was.”
I clutched my now tepid pumpkin latte. “There’s got to be a way out.”
“One can hope, Leila,” the Paragon said. “One can hope.”