Roiben laughed hollowly. "I'm sure I wouldn't know.”
"Fine. Don't tell me.”
Roiben tilted his head, his pale eyes suddenly grave. Corny was disconcerted to have the faerie Lord's full attention fixed on his face. "The more powerful you become, the more others will find ways to master you. They'll do it through those you love and through those you hate; they will find the bit and the bridle that fits your mouth and makes you yield.”
"So there's no way to be safe?”
"Be invisible, perhaps. Be worthless.”
Corny shook his head. "Doesn't work.”
"Make them yield first," Roiben said, and the half smile on his lips wasn't quite enough to render the suggestion frivolous. "Or be dead. No one can yet master the dead." He replaced his helm. "Now get Kaye and go.”
With a flick of the reins Roiben wheeled the horse around and rode down the path, dust clouding behind the shining hooves.
Corny threaded his way back through the woods, only to find Adair leaning against a tree.
"You're an ill fit among such beauty," said the faery, pushing back butter blond hair. "It's a mistake you humans often make—being so ugly.”
Corny thought of Roiben's words. Make them yield first.
"This was a pretty cool gift," he said, letting his hand trail across the bark of a nearby oak, blackening the trunk. "The curse. I should thank you.”
Adair stepped back.
"You must have been really pissed off. The curse even withers fey flesh." Corny smiled. "Now I just have to decide what's the best way to express my gratitude. Whatever do you think Miss Manners would advise?"
• • •
Kaye tried to keep her face expressionless as Roiben ducked under the canopy of branches that formed Silarial's chamber. His silver hair poured over his shoulders like mercury but it was sweat-darkened at his neck.
Longing twisted in her gut along with a terrible, giddy anticipation she couldn't seem to quash. The human glamour Silarial had covered her with felt tight and heavy. She wanted to call out to him, to touch his sleeve. It was easy to imagine that there had been some misunderstanding, that if she could just speak to him for a moment, everything would be like it had been before. Of course, she was supposed to stand near the trunk of the massive willow and keep her eyes on the floor the way the human attendants did.
The glamour had seemed clever at first, when Silarial had suggested it. Roiben wasn't allowed to see her—according to the rules of the declaration— and if she was glamoured, she would remain unseen. Kaye was just supposed to wait until he and Silarial were done talking, and then she was supposed to try to convince him to go along with Silarial's plan. If she agreed with it, of course. Which she was pretty sure she wouldn't, but at least she would get the smug satisfaction of pissing him off.
It had sounded like a better scenario than it felt now as she stood there, watching him through her lashes as if they were strangers.
Silarial looked up lazily from her cushions. "Ethine tells me that you will not agree to my conditions.”
"I do not think you expected me to, m—" He stopped suddenly, and Silarial laughed.
"You nearly called me 'my Lady,' didn't you? That's a habit in need of breaking.”
He looked down and his mouth twisted. "Indeed. You have caught me being foolish.”
"Nonsense. I find it charming." Smiling, she swept her hand toward where Kaye stood among Silarial's attendants. "You must be parched for a taste of the changeless lands of your youth.”
A willowy human in a simple blue shift stepped out of the line as if by some signal Kaye could not discern. The servant leaned into a copper bowl on the table as if she were bobbing for apples. Then, kneeling in front of Roiben, she bent backward and opened her mouth. The surface of the wine shimmered between her teeth.
Kaye was reminded suddenly and terribly of Janet drowning, of how her lips had been parted just like that, of how her mouth had looked filled with seawater. Kaye pressed her fingernails into her palms.
"Drink," said the Bright Lady, and her eyes were full of laughter.
Roiben knelt down and kissed the girl's mouth, cupping her head and tilting her so that he might swallow. "Decadent," he said, settling back onto the cushions. He looked amused and far too relaxed, his long limbs spread out as though he were in his own parlor. "Do you know what I really miss, though? Roasted dandelion tea.”
Silarial petted the girl's hair before she sent her back to fetch a mouthful from another bowl. Kaye reminded herself not to stare, to look up only through her lashes, to keep her face carefully neutral. She dug her fingernails deeper into her skin.
"So tell me," said Silarial. "What conditions do you propose?”