“Eurydice,” I said.
Her chin inclined. “Only a creature of light can hold it. And you and I both know you are far from that, even if you weren’t Unseelie.”
“Drystan hid Carys’s dagger with thehumans? Are you certain all the wine hasn’t addled your ancient brain?”
“Not with.Beneath.” Her blue eyes glittered in the low light. “The catacombs.”
All humor slipped from my face. “There are no catacombs.”
“It’s a wonder you ever got away with calling yourself Rhiannon’s historian.” Her lip curled, teeth gleaming. “She was right. All you Unseelie men are just brutes with blades.”
“Where are the catacombs, then?”
“The sewers, of course.” She sniffed. “I bet you knew your way around those.”
Ididknow my way around those; I’d snuck down there often. “But…”
“You wouldn’t have seen the way,” she said. “The entrance is only visible with light.”
And beyond the entrance… “Haskel spoke of a dragon.”
Liora leaned back. Just a degree, but in a cell this small, one degree told me all I needed to know. “I suppose you’ll have to find out.”
She didn’t want us to know for certain. Who would go down a path if they knew a dragon waited at its end?
“Why come to me?” I swept out a hand. “Why dirty yourself in the dungeon?”
“Because I needed to see you alone.” Her gaze flicked up and down me. “On my dance floor, you were a beast. All instinct, no thought. I needed to know if that’s all you are—or if something useful remains beneath.”
“And what have you determined?”
"That you haven’t asked me a single question about Gawain since I walked in." She pressed a solaire-warmed finger into my cheek, and I flinched. “A man consumed by rage would have started there. Demanded answers. Threatened me, perhaps.”
I clenched my jaw. Even here, down in the dark, she could burn a hole through my face with one willful fingertip.
“You want to know if I can set him aside,” I said.
"I want to know if you can set everything aside." She took a step closer in the low light. "Rage. Pride. History. Because where you’re going,veyre, none of those will serve you. And if you can’t…” She shrugged, a delicate rise and fall of her shoulders. “Then I’m sending Eurydice to her death, and I’d rather not waste a promising queen.”
She wanted to keep Eury alive. Or at least wanted me to think so.
I didn’t move, didn’t drop my gaze. "What’s down there, Dawnmaker?"
Liora smiled—if you could call it that. A small, pitying thing.
“The darkness,veyre.” She lowered her hand and stepped back toward the cell door. “Best make your peace with it.”
Deep in the night, soft footsteps echoed down the dungeon corridor.
I didn’t rise from my seat on the stone floor. I’d been awake all night, pacing until my legs gave out. The blood on my face had dried to a stiff mask. I hadn’t touched the filthy water in the bucket.
When Eury’s face appeared behind the iron bars of the viewing square, my chest tightened in a way I couldn’t afford.
I rose and crossed to the door. She stood in her leathers, holding a tray of food—meat, bread, a goblet of mead, a pastry. From herguest quarters, no doubt. She’d brought me breakfast like I was a stray she’d taken pity on.
“Eat, drink,” she said. "Or at least clean the blood from your face."
I ran a hand through my hair. Dried flakes rained down to the floor. “The water in that bucket is dirtier than I am.”