Page 27 of Their Wicked Cage

“Riding?” I ask, bewildered. I haven’t been on the back of a horse in decades, and I’ve never quite liked horses to begin with. They’re shifty creatures, too easily spooked. “I planned on portaling us to the worst of it.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” She flicks the end of her braid over her shoulder. “Besides, seeing more of the blight and how it’s impacting the Isles will help me better understand the extent of what I’m dealing with.”

“True, but it’s at least a day and a half’s ride,” I explain.

“Is that a problem, grandsire? Are you lacking the stamina?”

Before I have a chance to respond, a staff member places a plate in front of her. She forces a smile and offers them a quiet “thank you,” waiting for them to leave the room before she grimaces at her meal—candied pig fat, fresh fruit, and grilled eggplant.

She leans away from the table, hands folded demurely in her lap.

“What?” I ask.

Her teeth carve into her lower lip. “It might sound strange, but I don’t consume meat. I can’t stomach it, nor the thought of it… touching anything else on my plate.” Two loose tendrils of silky white hair fall free from her braid and frame her face. She tucks them behind her ears, exposing a row of piercings along the left one and only a few on her right. Fae don’t pierce their ears—not like her. “If you had my particular powers, you wouldn’t be so cruel to living things.”

I steeple my hands in front of me. “You presume a lot about me, little witch.”

“Are you going to sit there and tell me I’m wrong?”

“Yes.”

Her eyes narrow.

I take a long sip of pomegranate juice, then snap my fingers. Two staff members scuttle over.

“Prepare a fresh plate for my guest, this time without any meat whatsoever,” I say.

One retrieves her plate from the table while the other runs off to the kitchen.

She’s still staring at me in that unsettling way of hers.

“What?” I repeat.

“What will happen to all of that food?” she asks. “Will it go to waste, or will you allow one of your staff to feast like an honored guest today?”

“And why should that concern you?”

She purses her lips. “You can tell a lot about royalty by how they treat their people and their staff.”

This feels like a test. She can easily look around the castle to see how happy those in my employ are, how much my people love and respect me for all I’ve done to better the Fae Isles after Godrick’s half-hearted reign. Regardless of the godsdamned blight.

“Those employed at the castle are well-fed,” I say, knowing I have nothing to prove, but craving her approval anyway. “So yes, if you must know, all scraps and leftovers go to the help and their families. Any items close to spoiling are donated to weekend festivities and cookshops across the Isles.”

“Good.” She leans forward, takes a sip of her juice. “Now, tell me about blight while we wait for my meal.”

A spark of warmth, of pride that I’ve impressed her, kindles deep in the dark depths of my chest.

“It’s devouring the Fae Isles,” I say, pushing the foreign sensation aside. “Some areas are worse than others, and nothing I’ve done has contained it.”

She turns her face toward the slash of sun cutting through the grand hall, the golden rays caressing her cheeks. “What is it doing to your lands?”

“It’s…” I rake a hand through my hair. “The trees weep a darkened ichor that seeps into the ground, turning the surrounding area as black as death. For as long as history stretches, the fae have drawn their magic from these lands. But the blight is strangling it. Our harvests yield fewer crops, common enchantments falter, and healing takes longer than it should. My people may not understand why, but they feel it—a creeping weakness they cannot explain.”

“Why don’t you just tell them about the blight?”

“Because they’d panic,” I say flatly. “The fae are proud and impulsive, drawing their own conclusions when fear takes hold, as you saw yesterday. If I announced the truth, it wouldn’t lead to careful preparation or vigilance. They’d scatter, make rash decisions, turn on one another or even the Crown. I have to shield them from the worst of it, at least for now.” I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “If the blight continues to spread, I fear it will claim the Viretree and destroy the entirety of the Fae Isles. Perhaps even the fae race itself. Knowing this would do my people no good; it would only hasten the chaos I’m trying to prevent.”

Her gaze drifts to mine. “Females talk, you know.”