The Cruel Prince (The Folk of t -(The Folk of the Air #1) - Holly Black Page 0,120
If my plan is going to succeed, I need someone at that feast who is on the side of a new king, preferably someone with the power to keep a dinner party from devolving into another slaughter if things go sideways.
If nothing else, I’ll need lots of disruptions to be sure I can get Oak out of there. The Bomb’s glass globes aren’t going to be enough. What I’ll have to offer in exchange, I am not entirely sure. I’ve spent all my own promises; now I will begin spending the crown’s.
I take a deep breath. Once I stand in front of the lords and ladies of Faerie and declare my intent to go against Balekin, there’s no going back, no crawling under the coverlets in my bed, no running away. If I do this, I am bound to Faerie until Oak sits on the throne.
We have tonight and half of tomorrow before the feast, before I must go to Hollow Hall, before my plans either come together or come entirely apart.
There’s only one way to keep Faerie ready for Oak—I have to stay. I have to use what I’ve learned from Madoc and the Court of Shadows to manipulate and murder my way into keeping the throne ready for him. I said ten years, but perhaps seven will be enough. That’s not so long. Seven years of drinking poison, of never sleeping, of living on high alert. Seven more years, and then maybe Faerie will be a safer, better land. And I will have earned my place in it.
The great game, Locke had called it when he accused me of playing it. I wasn’t then, but I am now. And maybe I learned something from Locke. He made me into a story, and now I am going to make a story out of someone else.
“So I am to sit here and feed you information,” Cardan says, leaning against a hickory tree. “And you’re to go charm royalty? That seems entirely backward.”
I fix him with a look. “I can be charming. I charmed you, didn’t I?”
He rolls his eyes. “Do not expect others to share my depraved tastes.”
“I am going to command you,” I tell him. “Okay?”
A muscle jumps in his jaw. I am sure it is no small thing for a prince of Faerie to accept being controlled, especially by me, but he nods.
I speak the words. “I command you to stay here and wait until I am ready to leave this forest, there is imminent danger, or a full day has passed. While you wait, I command you to make no sound or signal to draw any others to you. If there is imminent danger or a day has passed without my return, I command you to return to the Court of Shadows, concealing yourself as well as you are able until you are there.”
“That is not too poorly done,” he tells me, managing to retain his haughty, regal air somehow.
It’s annoying.
“Okay,” I say. “Tell me what you can about Queen Annet.”
What I know is this: She left the coronation ceremony before any of the other lords or ladies. That means she hates either the idea of Balekin or the idea of any High Monarch. I just have to figure out which.
“The Court of Moths is sprawling and very traditionally Unseelie. She’s practical-minded and direct, and she values raw power over other things. I also heard she eats her lovers when she tires of them.” He raises his eyebrows.
Despite myself, I smile. It’s bizarre to be in this with Cardan, of all people. And weirder still for him to talk with me this way, as he might to Nicasia or Locke.
“So why did she walk out of the coronation?” I ask. “It sounds like she and Balekin would be perfect for each other.”
“She has no heirs,” he says. “And despairs of ever bearing one. I think she would not have liked to see the wasteful slaughter of an entire line. Moreover, I don’t think she would be impressed that Balekin killed them all and still left the dais without a crown.”
“Okay,” I say, sucking in a breath.
He grabs hold of my wrist. I am shocked by the sensation of his skin warm against mine. “Take care,” he says, and then smiles. “It would be very dull to have to sit here for an entire day just because you went and got yourself killed.”
“My last thoughts would be of your boredom,” I tell him, and head off toward Queen