Someone appeared from behind a tree. A border guard with a quiver at her back, a bow in hand. Her brown eyes assessed us as she approached, but fixed on Eury. She didn’t recognize her without hair, in a guard’s uniform.
“Your queen needs two horses,” I said. “Right away.”
The woman’s eyebrows lowered. “The queen is away, in Highmark?—”
Eury swept aside her cloak. The blue dagger glowed eerily amongst all of Sylvanwild’s greenery. She gripped it tight against her leg. “I was there, and now I’m here. Get me two horses, and don’t bother with apologies or bowing.”
The guard stiffened when the dagger came out. A certain fear entered her eyes, one I’d never seen from a Sylvanwild fae in Eury’s presence. A queen, indeed.
She dipped her head once, no bow, no flourish, and pivoted away, disappearing amongst the trees.
Eury sheathed the dagger and dismounted. Her hand came along the horse’s side. “We’ll keep this horse here in court. He rides well, does what he must.” She scratched at his jaw. “He’s a first-degree steed of scorn.”
I half-smiled. The vaguest memory of humor hung like gossamer thread in the air between us. Now it felt like time ran short for us to say anything to each other.
“Dorian,” she said as she scratched the horse’s wobbling chin, eyes off me, “what happened to you in Noctere?”
I’d never told anyone about my time in the winter court. The closest I’d come to the truth was when Rhiannon had tried to force itout of me with her magic. But some truths are so painful, so felt, they can’t be forced.
Now, after everything, the woman I loved had asked. We were short on time, and she wanted to know.
“Why do you ask?”
Her eyes flashed on me. “Maeronyx. I need to know her mind.”
Yes, of course she did. I had hoped I would have Haskel and Faun to help guide this part. But in the end, it was only me. I would have to be enough.
The truth found words. “Rhiannon was ruthless, but Maeronyx is cruel and patient. The Black Frost. The Architect of the Endless Night. The names only get more gruesome from there.”
Her hand dropped from the horse’s chin. “Once, you told me a saying about Noctere.”
The ones who never left the dark.“You want to know if I lived it.”
She nodded.
“Torture is their favorite method of instruction.” My throat tightened. “It’s effective.” How could I put years of my life into so few words? I closed my eyes. “I became everything she wanted me to be by the time I was sixteen.”
But cold, punishing, a husk of the boy I’d been. As a child, you learn quickly what will keep you safe. But in Noctere, nothing prevented the pain; the pain was its own point.
When you’re forced to stand barefoot on the icy border between Noctere and Sylvanwild until you can touch your magic, you figure it out.
When you’re given a lashing every time you swing wide with your sword,andevery time you swing perfectly, you learn the lesson was never about the sword.
She moved through the grass. When her hand came up to my face, it felt like a gift. “After all this—when the others have knelt to me on the bloody fields—on a dark, cold night, we’ll gotogether to kill Gawain.”
My eyes opened, the intensity of the memories receding. My lips curled. “We’re going to infiltrate Noctere’s citadel?”
“No.” Her blue eyes glittered. “We’re going to ride up to the doors and demand she send Gawain naked into the night.”
Now I smiled. “And what then?”
“Then you’ll give him twice as many lashings as you received as a boy, until he pisses in the snow and begs for mercy.”
She pulled in a breath, let it out audibly. Her face went serious again. “Maeronyx won’t kneel for me, will she?”
Now wasn’t the time for lies. “No, she won’t.”
“Not unless she thinks I’ll kill her.”