“Well, I hope you’re not expecting me to put that thing on you,” she said. “And much as I’d like to see Maeve get a taste of her own medicine, I doubt we’d be able to wrestle it onto her.”
Cuan huffed, looking a shade less grim. “Please do not even try it. Our situation is dire enough without bringing the entire sidhean down on our heads.”
He picked up the collar, though Tamsin could tell it was an effort. Holding it with extreme care, he stretched it between his hands, holding it up to her neck.
“You must put it on,” he said. “It’s enchanted so that only the one who locks it is able to open it again. If you put it on yourself, no one will be able to remove it without your will.”
Tamsin frowned. “But what good will that do? I’m not fae. Cold iron won’t have any effect on me.”
“No.” Cuan’s shoulders were tense, every muscle in his arms flexed and rigid, as though he was lifting a huge weight rather than a delicate strip of leather. “But while cold iron touches your skin, no fae will be able to glamour you.”
“Are you serious?” Tamsin exclaimed. She reached for the collar, but he stepped back a little, keeping it out of reach. “Why didn’t you get me one of these before?”
“Because…because…” He closed his eyes for an instant, apparently steeling himself. “Because when you wear this, you will be able to see through all glamour. Including mine.”
She felt as though he’d punched her under the ribs. She couldn’t breathe for a moment, hollowed out by betrayal.
Betty was right.
I shouldn’t have trusted him.
“You told me you weren’t using glamour on me,” she whispered through numb lips. “You swore you weren’t.”
“And I am not, and I never have,” he said instantly, tone firm and forceful. “And I would not, even if I could. Never.”
Despite his words, he had the look of a man confessing his sins on his deathbed, with no hope of forgiveness. His faemarks stood out stark and black against his ashen skin.
“I told you the truth,” he said quietly. “But I was not honest with you.”
Cuan’s throat worked. His feet moved apart a little, as though he was bracing himself to receive a blow.
“Touch the iron.” He held out the collar. “And you will see me as I truly am.”