Now, with Maeve looking as smug as a cat who’d eaten an entire pet store of canaries, her true helplessness came crashing back. No one might be willing to face Cuan in a duel anymore, but it was clear the elf queen had something else up her jeweled sleeve.
I let myself get distracted.I should have been trying harder to get out of here, not falling into Cuan’s bed.
Not that she regretted the latter—oh boy, she didn’t regret anything there. But in her sex-drunk bliss, she’d forgotten to worry.
And maybe she should have been worried.
Betty had promised to send help, but there hadn’t been any sign of it so far. If some seelie hero was coming to save her, he was taking his sweet time about it.
She wished she’d been able to ask Betty about it directly, but Motley had refused to open another portal to the human world. Tamsin had tried to a couple of times to convince him to try to reach Betty again, but he’d grown so agitated she hadn’t dared to push him.
“Eyes, eyes.” Motley had hunched his shoulders, looking around as though expecting something to leap out of the walls at any second. “Too many eyes now. Can’t. Not safe. They’d notice.”
“The Wild Hunt?”
Motley had shivered. “Them too.”
I should have pushed him harder. I should have tried to get out of the sidhean. What if Betty’s seelie friend has been waiting in the woods all this time? Too late, too late now…
Cuan moved closer to her, looming protectively. He spoke in a low voice, for her ears alone. “Courage, my heart. Whatever this is, we will face it together. Remember that you are not without weapons.”
She touched the iron collar around her neck, hidden under the high halter-neck of the azure ballgown that Cuan had managed to find for her. The press of metal against her skin gave her courage.
“Right.” She lifted her chin, taking Cuan’s arm. “Let’s do this.”
They joined the rest of the court, who were streaming up the vast hill of the sidhean. The high sidhe were even more gorgeously dressed than usual—the women in extravagant dresses, the men in rather briefer attire.
Tamsin was glad that Cuan had insisted on finding her suitable (and suitably opaque) formalwear. The high sidhe might be sneering at her as usual, but at least it wasn’t because of her clothes.
Still, she could have wished for something a little warmer. Tamsin shivered a little in the cool evening breeze. The unseelie never seemed to get up before sunset, though she still wasn’t sure whether that was because the high sidhe were genuinely nocturnal, or just because they liked to party all night.
She stumbled on a tussock of grass, and Cuan tightened his grip, steadying her. None of the high sidhe seemed to be having the slightest difficulty climbing the steep slope, damn them. They all moved as if they disdained even gravity.
Tamsin was wheezing by the time they finally reached the top. The sidhean was a lot taller than Fair Hill. She leaned on Cuan, trying to get her breath back.
“Why did Maeve have to throw her party all the way up here?” she muttered. “Just to annoy me?”
“It is a rather unusual choice of venue,” Cuan murmured back. His brow furrowed as he scanned their surroundings. “But a very attractive one. Lady Maeve must have spent a great deal of time and personal energy on this glamour.”
Cuan was right. The top of the hill was ringed in magical, floating lights, echoing the glorious stars above. All around, low linen-covered tables bore sumptuous delicacies. Illusionary flowers blanketed the ground so thickly, the blooms formed a living carpet that filled the air with a sweet, heady fragrance. Thanks to her iron, Tamsin could tell they weren’t really there, but she could still appreciate the effect.
Maeve’s put a lot of effort into this party.
…why?
“My dear court!” Maeve called. Twinkling lights danced around her as she raised her arms in welcome. “Soon we shall feast and be merry. But before we do, we must welcome our guest of honor.”
Tamsin stiffened, expecting Maeve to single her out—but the elf queen looked up instead. Tamsin followed her gaze.
The night was bright and clear. Without the light pollution of her own world, the stars were impossibly dense, packed together so closely that the whole sky shimmered. The moon hung over them all, huge and full.
The watching high sidhe murmured, stirring. From what Tamsin could hear, they didn’t have any more idea of what they were waiting for than she did. Cuan was a tense, coiled presence at her side.
A winged shadow crossed the moon.
“What the-?” Tamsin breathed. “What is that?”
Whatever it was, it was huge. The creature swooped down, turning from a silhouette to a white, starlit shape. Even when it passed right over their heads, its wings made absolutely no sound.