Page 50 of The Lure of Wolves and Whispers
Aoife frowns, then nods. “Black is still smart. It’s good to show loyalty right from the beginning.”
Talon’s eyes find mine, and they hide a smile behind one hand.
Loyalty isn’t what Wolf is aiming for here, I’m damn sure.
Still, I offer the girl a small, false smile. “Thank you for your help.”
Fully trusting Aoife isn’t an option. It would mean putting not just my life but Finn’s in someone else’s hands, and that’s a risk I can’t accept. But if the noble daughters are drawing up alliances, I could use an ally too.
Talon’s voice hardens before Aoife can respond. “Let’s go.”
Each twist and turn takes me deeper into the castle. The hairs down the back of my neck prickle with each step. Old Ones, what will the High King actually look like—belike—in person? I can’t help but wonder if the cruelty and savagery so evident inside him will match the man on the outside.
I don’t know anyone in Quayside who’s ever seen him, this man who haunts every aspect of our lives—who terrorizes us, a tyrant in every sense of the word.
The slippers pinch my toes. They were left along with the dress, so I have to assume Wolf guessed the size of my feet wrong and is to blame for the blister already swelling at my heel.
But the dress moves like liquid against my skin, soft as a caress, and a small flicker of wonder lights in me.
I always loved dresses, but ever since the uprising, they were too much of a risk in Quayside.
Too hard to run in. Too easy to drown in if I ever had to jump into the water. Not to mention, the muck and mud of the streets would turn the hem to filth in less than an hour.
But here… the skirt swishes over polished stone, a velvet whisper in the torchlight.
I don’t just feel strong.
I feel brave, too.
Invincible.
Talon stays at my side, as close as a shadow.
With every step, we get closer to the center of power on Eireann, to the start of the Assay. I can tell. The courtiers milling in the corridors and alcoves glitter with every gem imaginable; heavy silver bangles jangle from their noble wrists, and piles of heavy golden chains loop around their necks.
I keep my chin high with every step toward soaring doors of polished wood set with rubies and onyx before us.
The way the other nobles glare not just at me but at Aoife, a few steps ahead, sets my teeth on edge. I know I can’t trust her, but I might understand her; the deep ache of loneliness can pierce a soul even in the most crowded of rooms.
“Are you okay?” I find myself asking softly.
The unmistakable flush of shame rises in Aoife’s cheeks, and I immediately regret my words. She keeps her eyes stubbornly ahead on the door in front of us and raises one hand to rap on the carved wood. “I’m fine,” she murmurs.
Talon’s elbow finds my side, a warning look tightening their expression.
The door swings wide open then, and even though I know I’m ready, my stomach jumps.
The hall beyond glows with candlelight and what has to be a hundred different mirrors of all sizes and shapes over all the walls.
So, I see wheneveryeye in the room narrows on me.
I’ve never had the misfortune of being dropped into the middle of a viper’s nest, but I have to imagine it feels a little like this—hissing whispers, and eyes piercing all over my skin. The space practically rattles with poisonous menace, and as Aoife steps back to linger at the edges of the room, away from the crowds, there’s no mistaking the target of the nobles’ loathing.
Every person here wants me dead.
Will any of them try to kill me tonight?
My fingers itch to stroke the length of the blade in my gaunt-let sheath.
