Prince of Air and Darkness (The Darkest Court)

She lifts a hand in invitation. “Now, explain.”

I do. Everything, from the worthless negotiation with Aileen, to Smith’s unexpected arrival, to our near escape. I hedge on Smith’s full involvement. The mention of his instinctual use of a shield, with added emphasis that he couldn’t manipulate the power to move it should be enough. There’s no point lying about that part; the Unseelie who were there will talk soon enough. I’d rather be ahead of the gossip to limit Mother’s interest.

Only one detail is wholly omitted. That kiss—that impossible, raw moment—is mine.

What I do share is enough to make Mother’s raised brow climb higher and higher until it’s nearly lost in the soft fall of hair over her forehead.

“So that’s what I felt,” she murmurs once I’ve finished.

“What?”

“Later. Are our people safe?” she asks.

“Yes. I checked before coming here. They’re terrified. Minor injuries to some, nothing requiring medical attention. Several are returning home tonight.”

“I’ll tell the guards. And the rest?”

Carefully now... “We await your counsel.”

Her fingers trace the delicate carvings in the arm of the chair. “What of the Seelie?”

“I didn’t think to ask.” Nor did I have any fucks left to give.

“No matter. I’ll find out when I contact Oberon and Titania in the morning. I’m sure the Pantheons will be contacting me as well.”

“Since their children were caught in the cross fire, I’d be surprised if they didn’t.”

She suddenly leans forward and reaches toward me, brushing her fingers over my hand. I turn my palm up and catch her hand with mine.

“You look tired,” she murmurs.

“

It’s been a long day.”

“You intend to keep an eye on the human still?”

I absently watch the light play over the facets of one of her rings. “Yes.”

She gives a gentle tug on my hand, redirecting my attention to our discussion. “You realize when news of this spreads, someone else may come for him?”

“Yes.”

“The Court can’t afford any greater imbalance. His magick can’t be allowed into the hands of our enemies.”

The silence stretches on as she watches me. Her hesitation to speak warns me that an ugly history is about to raise its head once more.

“Roark, will you bring him here when I ask?”

Not if I ask, only when I ask. As though Smith’s role in our war is inevitable. She never intended to let him go free, despite my interference. She assumes I’ll obey this time, that I’ve learned my lesson from our prior argument. She assumes I’ll cleave to my familial duty. She forgets that is no longer my sole concern.

I have no intention of handing over Smith. Of letting anyone else near him. I want to make her bleed for asking.

Instead, I school my features into polite indifference, augment it with a mere hint of my glamour. I present my Court face and say, “As you wish it, Mother.”

She inspects me, and once again I’m a child learning to lie for the first time. It took years to learn to hide my true thoughts from her. Mothers always know, isn’t that the phrase? She can suspect my divided loyalties all she wants, but she can’t find evidence of treason on my face. The moment I hesitate in choosing her over Smith, she’ll kill him. Try to, since I’ll die before that happens. And Goddess help us both if we come to that crossroads again.

“Roark—” I ignore the warning tone in her voice and wait, glamour steady. A short lifetime later she makes a face. “Very well.”