The Cruel Prince (The Folk of t -(The Folk of the Air #1) - Holly Black Page 0,88
pale green wings sit on his back. When he anoints Dain’s other side, he paints it in thick swaths of pollen, yellow as butter.
“Wild fey, Shy Folk, come forward and anoint your prince,” says Val Moren.
It is a hob who comes forward this time, in a dapper little suit, carefully sewn. He carries with him a handful of mud, which he smears over the center of Prince Dain’s chest, just above his heart.
I finally spot Cardan in the crowd, unsteady on his feet and with a wineskin in one hand. He appears to have gotten himself riotously drunk. When I think of the smear of silver paint on his face and the way his hand had slid on my hip, I guess he was well on his way there when I saw him. I feel an immense, mean satisfaction that he is not standing with the royal family at the most important moment for the Court in centuries.
He’s going to be in so much trouble.
“Who will clothe him?” Val Moren asks, and in turn, each of his sisters and then his mother bring him a white tunic and pants made from hide, a collar of gold, and high kidskin boots. He looks like a storybook king, one who will have a wise and just rule. I imagine the Ghost in the rafters, and the Roach in his mask, watching proudly. I feel some of that same pride, being sworn to him.
But I cannot forget his words to me: You are my creature, Jude Duarte.
I touch my wounded hand to the hilt of my silver sword, the sword my father forged. After tonight, I will be the High King’s spy and a true member of his Court. I will lie to his enemies and, if that doesn’t work, I will find a way to do something worse. And if he crosses me, well, then I will find a way around that, too.
Val Moren brings the end of his staff down hard against the ground, and I feel the reverberation to my teeth. “And who will crown him?”
Eldred wears an expression of pride. The crown gleams in his gnarled hands, glowing as if sunlight emanated from the metal itself. “I will.”
The guards are changing configuration subtly, perhaps preparing to escort Eldred out of the palace. There are more knights at the edges of the crowd than there were when the coronation ceremony began.
The High King speaks. “Come, Dain. Kneel before me.”
The Crown Prince bends down in front of his father and the assemblage.
My gaze cuts to Taryn, who is still standing with Locke. Oriana has a protective arm around Oak, one of Madoc’s lieutenants bending to speak with her. He gestures toward a doorway, and she says something to Vivi and then starts toward it. Taryn and Locke follow. I grit my teeth and start to push my way through the crowd to them. I don’t want to disgrace myself like Cardan, by not being where I’m supposed to be.
Val Moren’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “And will you, the Folk of Elfhame, accept Prince Dain as your High King?”
The cry rose up from the crowd, in chirping voices and bellows: “We will.”
My gaze goes to the knights surrounding the dais. In another life, I would have been one of them. But as my eyes rest there, I notice familiar faces. Madoc’s best commanders. Warriors who are fiercely loyal.
They are not dressed in their uniforms. Over shining armor, they wear the Greenbriar livery. Perhaps Madoc is only being careful, only putting his best people in place. But the spy I killed, the one with the taunting message, was Madoc’s as well.
And Oriana, Oak, and my sisters are gone. Escorted out of the hill by one of Madoc’s lieutenants just as the dais became more heavily guarded.
I have a plan to ensure our futures.
I need to find the Roach. I need to find the Ghost. I need to tell them that something’s wrong.
A well-seasoned strategist waits for the right opportunity.
I push past a trio of goblins and a troll and one of the Still Folk. A spriggan growls at me, but I don’t pay any mind. The end of the coronation is in sight. I see goblets and tankards being refilled.
Up on the dais, Balekin has left his place with the other princes and princesses. For a moment, I think it’s part of the ceremony—until he draws a long, thin blade, one I recognize from his horrible duel with Cardan. I stop moving.