“Yes. Ash,” Caom said quickly, stepping forwards until his shoulder brushed mine. “Ash, I believe you saw Prince Lonan when you met the Carlin. He is her youngest son.”
I gave a silent nod. It was probably considered rude to Folk royalty, but he wasn’tmyprince. Let him go and run to his mother, whining that I hadn’t been polite enough. I didn’t care.
Our eyes met again and held. His were endless black beneath hooded lids, like he was in a perpetual state of boredom. His face was almost painfully beautiful, but I knew what beauty meant among the Folk.
The more beautiful they were, the deadlier they were. Beauty drew you in. Beauty trapped you. When I was twelve, a tall, willowy girl with perfect silvery hair had shown up in my garden, asking me to take a walk with her. She led me to the small lake—more of an overgrown pond—on the edge of the field and asked if I wanted to go for a swim.
When I refused, I could feel her trying to do thatthingthat the Folk did. Where they tried to force me to do what they wanted. But for some reason, it had never worked on me.
When it didn’t work with the beautiful girl, her face twisted—just for a second—into something ugly, before she grabbed my hair and tried to drag me into the water. She was laughing, sharp teeth glinting in the sun, and I could have sworn I felt strong fingers wrap round my ankle under the murky water and tug hard, making me panic.
By the time Nua showed up and told her to stop, I was gasping for breath, arms flailing and fingers digging into the wet mud along the bank as I tried to claw my way out. When Nua heaved me out onto the bank, I looked back fearfully into the water, expecting to see eerie eyes peering back. But there’d been nothing there except clumps of floaty black things that looked like hair.
“If you want to speak to the Carlin, come to me.” Lonan’s eyes were intense. “I will pass on the message.”
“That’s very kind,” Caom said quickly, jabbing a sharp elbow into my side.
I cleared my throat. “Yeah. Thanks.”
Lonan’s eyes narrowed, and I heard Caom suck in a breath and hold it. In the thick silence, I swallowed nervously, suddenly doubting my indifferent responses to this fae. He was the Carlin’s assassin. The one I’d been told repeatedly to watch out for—to not anger.
He was unnerving as hell, his eyes black and cold as he stared at me, face expressionless like he was carved out of stone. He was lean but looked strong—and fast. Faster than I could ever be. His fingers were long and elegant, and I was sure they would look perfectly natural wrapped round the hilt of the blade at his side.
I could practically picture his face splashed with blood as he slit some unfortunate creature’s throat, still blank and emotionless.
“I’ll see you at your celebration tomorrow, mortal,” he said in an eerily soft voice before he turned to leave.
Caom didn’t move until he’d vanished, exhaling a shaky breath and giving my shoulder a shove.
“You have to be more polite to him, Ash! If he tells the Carlin you spoke to him like that—”
“I didn’t speak to him in any way,” I said with a careless wave, but my gut clenched with foreboding. “I was polite. I’m just not going to grovel.”
“You don’t need togrovel, just…” Caom flapped his hands as we started walking again. “Speak to him—all of them—differently than how you’d speak to others. They’re royal. High Fae. Theyaredifferent.”
“Mm.” I grunted noncommittally. “I’d rather just not speak to him at all. Any of them.”
“Well, ideally, yes.” Caom glanced over at me worriedly. “But he’s going to your celebration tomorrow. That means the Carlin has tasked him with keeping an eye on you. That’s not good, Ash.”
“Because he’s the worst son?”
Caom’s head tilted side to side.
“The most dangerous, yes. The one you should be most scared of if you see him while you’re alone. But Bres is probably the worst. Manipulative bastard,” he muttered under his breath. “You can’t trust a word he says.”
“I thought the Folk couldn’t lie.”
“We can’t. But he’s sly, and careful with his words. He’s perfected the art of lying with truths. Confusing you and manipulating conversations to suit him. He can make you believe anything.”
“Well, I don’t plan on speaking to any of them. I won’t be askingPrince Lonanto give any messages to the Carlin, don’t worry. I have nothing to say to him or to her.”
Caom chewed his lip nervously. “Alright. That’s good. Just… stick close to me tomorrow night.”
My gut clenched. “So this celebration is tomorrow night? I don’t even want it. I don’t want anything.”
“Well, you can’t refuse. Unless you want Lonan’s blade in your neck. Just stay with me and try to look like you’re enjoying it. No one will expect you to stay all night. You’re half mortal. You can’t handle an entire night of fae festivities yet.” He gave me a playful nudge. “You got drunk on a single bottle of wine.”
I flushed. “I’d hardly eaten. And don’t forget I’d beenpoisonedthat day.”