“Yes, in a way.” Cuan lifted his head, meeting her eyes. “Lady Maeve. You gave me a place when no other would. It was perhaps the only kindness you ever showed me, yet I am grateful for it nonetheless. Without you, I would not have met my mate. No matter what else, I thank you for that.”
Maeve, for once, seemed lost for words. The court was motionless, watching as though spellbound. Prince Morcant stirred impatiently, his blade held low and ready.
“I have tried to serve you faithfully and well,” Cuan continued. He didn’t raise his voice, yet every word carried clearly through the silent hall. “But that ends now, here. I renounce my fealty to you.”
Maeve started up, her hands gripping the arms of her chair. A shocked gasp ran round the court. Morcant went absolutely still.
Cuan’s voice rang out, steady and measured, cutting through the rising murmur. “I renounce your court. I renounce this sidhean. I renounce my place here.”
“You cannot!” Maeve’s faemarks glittered with rage, bright against her white face. “I do not accept! I forbid it!”
Cuan shook his head. “Do as thou wilt is our highest law. We are high sidhe. We go where we will, do as we will, and choose who we serve. Of my own free will I joined your court, and of my own free will I leave it. None may forbid me that choice. Not even you, Maeve.”
A mass hiss from the court showed that Tamsin wasn’t the only one to notice the lack of title. Hearing it, Maeve flushed, a wash of dull red appearing across her cheeks underneath her blazing faemarks.
“I care not whether you align yourself with this sidhean or some other,” Morcant said loudly. He swung his sword up to point at Cuan again. “I still challenge you for this human woman.”
Cuan turned away from the red-faced, rigid Maeve to look calmly at the prince. “I am not finished, Prince Morcant.”
What is he doing?
Tamsin could only trust that Cuan was going somewhere with this. She clenched her hands together, having to forcibly stop herself from running over to him.
“I will not go to any other sidhean,” Cuan said. “I renounce all fealty. I will no longer bow to the Winter King’s rule.”
Utter. Silence.
Cuan glanced across at her. The corner of his mouth hooked up, in that slight, wry smile she’d come to love so much. That strange, dancing light in his golden eyes brightened.
“And since I am no longer unseelie,” he said, “I am not bound to keep their bargains. I return the human tithe Tamsin.”
It wasn’t dramatic. There was no whoosh of magic fire or sparkle of light. But Tamsin felt the tithe-curse break. It was like taking off her bra at the end of a long day; a niggling discomfort that she’d stopped noticing, until it went away. She took a deep breath, her soul soaring in that sudden sense of freedom.
And very distantly, she heard a voice, a male voice, howling in rage and bitter loss. Just for a moment…and then it was gone.
“Take her!” Maeve shrieked at Morcant. “Take her anyway! Make them both suffer for this insult!”
Morcant’s mismatched eyes flicked from Tamsin to Cuan and back again. For an instant, Tamsin’s heart clenched—but then Morcant’s blade and armor dissolved. The prince turned away, looking utterly disinterested once more.
“The tithe has been freed. No unseelie may lawfully lay claim to her. By tradition and right, she must be returned to her own realm.” Morcant’s gaze lingered on Maeve, pointedly. “The Winter King does not look kindly on law-breakers.”
Maeve spluttered, looking furious. “But-!”
Morcant’s owl-griffin leaned round Maeve’s chair. It splayed out one huge, heavy foot—idly, as though it was just stretching—and raked it thoughtfully across the floor. Its talons left deep grooves in the marble only inches away from the elf queen’s feet.
Maeve went very quiet.
“The warrior Cuan may also go where he will unhindered,” Morcant said, sounding bored with the whole affair. He clicked his fingers, and his griffin padded to his side. “By the authority granted to me by the Winter King, I grant you a day’s grace to leave his domain, warrior. I advise that you do not allow the moon to rise on you again in unseelie lands.”
Cuan gave the prince a respectful bow. “It will not.”
“You think you have won, beast?” Maeve laughed, though it sounded bitter and forced. “Where will you go? Do you truly think that the seelie will welcome you with open arms?”
“No.” Cuan smiled down at Tamsin, and joy shone in his eyes. “But I hope that there is one who will.”