Roiben exhaled with a sharp hiss although he remained on his knees. She wondered how long he had been holding his breath.
"My Lady, you cannot…" the fox-faced scribe began, but the Unseelie Queen quelled him with a gesture of her hand.
"Rise, my knight. You have chosen well. She is yours."
Roiben rose and turned slightly toward Kaye, an expression of unguarded relief on his face. Kaye reached out her hand toward him. She would explain everything as soon as they were dismissed. She would make him understand.
"Now, I order you to offer up your prize to be sacrificed for the Tithe," the Queen said.
There was laughter in the crowd.
She saw fury and shame coalesce into something horrible. She saw Roiben's hand drop, twitching over the hilt of his sword.
Then he seemed to regain control of himself, and he bowed to his Queen with a smile. Turning to Kaye, he pressed his lips against her neck, his hand holding her hip, speaking against the skin so that only she could hear him. "What belongs to you, yet others use it more than you do?"
His mouth moving against the skin of her neck made Kaye shiver. She opened her mouth to speak, but he shook his head, raising his hand to run his thumb over her jawline. "Think on it."
He let go of her and stepped primly to the side to join the other knights.
Three white-robed figures strapped Kaye down, their heavily gloved hands careful when handling the iron. First they shackled her ankles, then her wrists. The iron cuffs burned softly against her skin.
Four knights of the Unseelie Court stepped to the north, south, east, and west points. Roiben stepped to the south, below her feet. His eyes did not meet hers.
What belongs to you, yet others use it more than you do?
Four short, squat men carried braziers blazing with green fire to the four points around the circle where the knights stood. The little men went down on their knees, balancing the braziers on their backs like living stools.
The Queen's fox-faced scribe raised both his hands, and the brugh was entirely quiet. Eerily quiet. Kaye searched the crowd for some familiar face. For a moment she thought she saw Spike, but then she couldn't be sure. There were so many creatures.
More green flames flared around the edge of the brugh, casting strange shadows.
Somewhere, far outside the circle, a single drum began to beat.
The Unseelie Queen began speaking, her voice echoing in the near silence. "We gather on this sacred night to fulfill our sacred debt. Tonight, we who rule must kneel."
As one being, the Unseelie Court moved to their knees. Only the solitary fey remained standing. Even the Queen knelt, her gown puddling around her.
"We, the Unseelie Court, keepers of the earth's secrets, rulers of blood and bone, offer a willing sacrifice in return for the willing obedience of those who dwell in our lands."
Obviously, it didn't bother anyone that their willing sacrifice was in chains, Kaye thought. The slow beat of the drum was maddening. A calm contrast to her heart, which was beating itself to death against the cage of her ribs.
The Unseelie Queen went on speaking. "What is the sacrifice we offer?"
The Court spoke as one. "Mortal blood. Mortal spirit. Mortal passion."
Off to one side of the Queen, Kaye's eye finally settled on Corny, blankfaced beside Nephamael. His pale brown hair had been cut much shorter and combed toward his face. That and the absence of his glasses made his face look thin and vulnerable. He was dressed all in blue velvet, tricked out as though he was expected to perform Jacobean drama once the sacrifice was over.
Nephamael was watching her with his implacable yellow eyes. She hoped he was going to do something very soon.
Experimentally, she reached out her own magic to tug at the glamour that was over her. It did not budge, heavy as a wet sheet. She couldn't even feel her wings.
"What do we ask in return?" The Unseelie Queen's voice rang out, beautiful and terrible.
Again the Host spoke. "Obedience. Restraint. Submission."
Kaye's gaze shifted, and she met Roiben's eyes. On his knees, speaking the words of the ritual, his eyes blazed as he tried to communicate with her through the improbable channel of expression.
What belongs to you, yet others use it more that you do?