Page 18 of The Heir the Fae Forgot
I wasn’t accustomed to the ways of court, let alonefaeriecourt, but I knew this wasn’t the casual luncheon Icarus was trying to play it off as. This was a game, a test, and I needed to make sure I came out of it on top.
Or, at the very least, not buried deeper in than I already was.
The food was, of course, another matter.
My stomach rumbled at the sight of the platters of meats and cheeses despite the bile that had been churning in it since I’d discovered thepresentwaiting for me outside my door. My body still craved the proper food it had been denied all of my life, and though I was quite sure I’d long since replenished whatever meager power it provided me on its own, I couldn’t keep my hands from piling my plate high with everything in sight.
At least, in that, I wasn’t alone.
Shiel was the only one who didn’t touch the feast laid out before us. He didn’t even sit, just stood behind the chair that had grown from the ground specifically for him, his hands clutching at the intricately woven wooden back like a shield.
He wasn’t paying attention to any of the idle chatter Finch had filled the air with—whenever his mouth wasn’t too full to speak. His eyes stared ahead, watching Icarus as he surveyed his court from his throne, his own wine glass full, but his plate empty.
“What is this charade?” Shiel asked, when, at long last, he grew impatient with himself.
Zev and Finch glanced up at him in surprise, as if they’d forgotten him in their race to see who could choke on their food the fastest.
Before either of them could answer, however, Icarus finally did it for them.
“This is no charade,” he said, his figure suddenly looming in front of us. It was as if Shiel had finally given him his cue, and with that smoke and shadow that always followed him, he’d taken it.
Before my eyes, the table elongated and the seats around it shifted slightly to accompany the new throne that grew in the space beside me. Icarus took this new seat with ease, leaning back to survey us more closely as his wine glass refilled itself in his hand.
Only then did Shiel sit, but in that stiff way only he could.
“What’s the point of all this, then? To make a spectacle of us?” he asked, motioning to the fae seated at their own tables, their eyes flitting away as soon as they realized we were looking. “Your court hardly seems in a welcoming mood.”
“Can you blame them, really?” Icarus asked, still so seemingly unbothered that it only served to bother Shiel even more. “They’ll warm up to you with time. It’s been a long time since we had visitors to my court. And longer still since those visitors were of your…caliber.”
That muscle in Shiel’s jaw flexed as it always did when he was biting back what he really wanted to say. “I doubt it, we won’t be here long enough for that to happen, I assure you.”
Icarus ignored that, instead, turning back to me. He watched me for a second, his eyes narrowing slightly and his wine-stained lips parting as he searched for something on my face before he spoke.
“Did you enjoy my…gift?”
I froze, immediately regretting the meal now churning in my stomach as I realized what it was he was referring to.
I had to force myself to swallow the mouthful of food that now tasted like ash on my tongue.
Regret overwhelmed me that I’d turned down the faerie wine. This was all too much to face entirely sober. I had no excuse now if I said the wrong thing.
I kept my eyes on the plate in front of me as I answered. “There was only one fae who attacked me yesterday,” I said, carefully.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Icarus cock his head, as if my answer amused him.
“Ah yes,” he said, all too calm for a murderer, “but there were six more fae there who saw you go in after her. Six fae who could have stopped her, but didn’t.”
He leaned forward suddenly, any pretense ofcalmbanished by the intensity in his eyes. “I told you, Aurra, my court doesnotdisobey me. There’s a reason for that.”
“I can see that. That reason is now rotting over the place I’m supposed to sleep.”
He raised one of his eyebrows. “Are you not pleased with my gift? I could have it moved. I debated it. They really should be hanging somewhere for everyone to see, to help them…remember themselves.”
He didn’t so much as have to snap his fingers before one of his servants was at his side, as if he’d simply sensed his lord needed something.
“Move the traitors to the market. Our guest doesn’t like her gift, but I think the rest of my court will enjoy it in her stead.”
The servant bowed slightly and then was simply…gone.
