Silarial spoke so close to Kaye's ear that it made her shiver. "You must command him, you know. If not, I would threaten your mother, that human boy of yours, your changeling sister. You would be persuaded. Don't feel badly about giving in now.”
"Say you won't repeat it," Kaye said. "Not just 'if I promise,' the real oath.”
Silarial's voice was still a whisper. "I will not speak Roiben's true name. I will not bid him with it, nor will I repeat it to any other.”
"Rath Roiben," Kaye said. He flinched and his hand went to the hilt at his belt, but it stayed there. His eyes remained shut. Rye. The word was poised on her lips. Rath Roiben Rye.
"Riven," Kaye finished. "Rath Roiben Riven, do as I command.”
He looked up at her, quickly, eyes widening with hope.
She could feel her smile grow cruel. He'd better do what she said, right then. If he didn't, Silarial would know that Kaye had spoken the wrong name.
"Lick the Queen of the Seelie Court's hand, Rath Roiben Riven," she said. "Lick it like the dog you are.”
He went down on one knee. He almost rose before he remembered himself and drew his tongue over Silarial's palm. Shame colored his face.
She laughed and wiped her hand against her gown. "Lovely. Now what else shall we make him do?”
Roiben looked up at Kaye.
She smirked.
"I deserve this," he whispered. "But, Kaye, I—”
"Tell him to be silent," said Silarial.
"Silence," Kaye said. She felt giddy with hate.
Roiben lowered his eyes and went quiet.
"Command him to pledge his loyalty to me, to be forever a servant of the Seelie Court.”
Kaye sucked in her breath. That she would not do.
Roiben's face was grim.
Kaye shook her head, but her fury was replaced with fear. "I'm not done with him yet.”
The Bright Queen frowned.
"Rath Roiben Riven," Kaye said, trying to think of some command she could give to stall for time. Trying to think of a way to twist Silarial's words or make some objection that the Bright Queen might believe. "I want you to—”
A scream tore through the air. Silarial took a few steps from them, distracted by the sound.
"Kaye—," Roiben said.
A group of faeries pushed their way under the canopy, Ethine among them. "My Lady," a boy said, then stopped as if stunned at the sight of the Lord of the Night Court on his knees. "There has been a death. Here.”
"What?" The Queen glanced toward Roiben.
"The human—," one of them began.
"Corny!" Kaye yelled, pushing through the curtain of willow branches, forgetting Silarial, the commands, anything but Corny. She raced in the direction that others were going, ran toward where a crowd gathered and Talathain pointed a weird crossbow. At Cornelius.
The ground where he sat had withered in two circles around his hands, tiny violets turning brown and dry, toadstools rotting, the soil itself paling beneath his fingers. Beside Corny the body of Adair rested, a knife still in his hand, his neck and part of his face shriveled and dark. His dead eyes stared into the sunless sky.
Kaye stopped abruptly, so relieved that Corny was alive that she almost collapsed.