Seven Black Diamonds (Seven Black Diamonds #1)(12)
“Eilidh,” he started.
“Hush.” She looked up at him. “Lying hurts, Torquil. Don’t do it to spare my feelings. I know what my mother thinks. I know what she fears. The broken daughter is only a stand-in until a new heir is born.”
“I don’t think you’re broken.”
Eilidh shook her head and pressed her lips tightly together.
“Are you considering anyone in particular for your bride?” she asked after a time. “I assume you’re selecting a bride, not a groom?”
Torquil tensed. “I’m not considering anyone.”
“No one caught your eye yet, then?” she persisted, perversely needing to hear that there was someone, someone other than her, he truly looked upon with interest.
Coolly, Torquil said, “In exchange for my loyalty, the queen has given me free rein to choose anyone, no restrictions other than not taking a wife who still has young children.”
That was the sort of open choice that was usually only reserved for royals or those to whom the queen felt indebted or deemed so pure as to need every incentive possible to wed. Marriage wasn’t forever among the fae; even when the two courts were separate, the idea of permanent liaisons was odd. The first nearly permanent marriage between the Unseelie Queen and Seelie King would end when their heir took the Hidden Throne.
Eilidh couldn’t say she was surprised. Torquil was among the purest of the fae, and he was trusted by both king and queen. She hoped that the king had given him other restrictions, but it was unlikely. Leith rarely disputed the queen’s choices. Luckily, Torquil wasn’t cruel. He wouldn’t attempt to separate a couple in love.
“What generosity,” Eilidh said mildly. “All of both courts open to you for the low price of selling me out.”
“It’s not only for that, Eilidh. You know that as well as I do. She wants more strong fae, and I’ve not shown any interest in breeding. She’s trying to bring me to heel.” He tried to pull her near him, catching her hand in his and tugging.
She didn’t resist. He spun her to face him, and slid his hand from her wrist to her elbow.
“I don’t intend to tell her anything about your actions,” he said, holding on to her with both hands now. “You can trust me to keep your secrets.”
“I won’t ask you to lie,” Eilidh countered. If it came to it, she’d live in the human world. She had connections there who could shelter her. It would be horrible to leave the fae, to not see them, to be surrounded by the toxic environment humanity had created. It would be worse to be imprisoned in the tower. “You’ll need to choose soon, I suspect.”
He didn’t meet her eyes. “Soon is relative when you live for centuries. Until she sets a deadline, I am ignoring it. If she sets one”—he shrugged one shoulder—“my father still has close ties to our king.”
“The king would have to owe your family quite a favor to stand up to Endellion.”
“True,” Torquil admitted, as much as saying aloud that the favor was, indeed, worthy of such actions.
She pulled out of his grasp finally and resumed walking. It was pitiful that her greatest joy was in being held prisoner by him for a few scant moments. Sometimes she was so hungry for the touch of another person that she considered starting a quarrel just for the hope to be touched. Being the broken heir was a lonely state. It was part of why she’d cherished the years she played with Lilywhite. They’d hugged and laughed, played tag and fallen into a jumble of limbs. None of those were experiences she’d known here in the Hidden Lands.
Torquil walked with Eilidh in silence the rest of the way through the tunnels and into the land where all the fae now lived. Usually she enjoyed seeing the beauty of their home, but not today. Today, she stared at the glass tower that she shared with no one. It rose up into the sky like a beacon, glistening like a jewel in even the dimmest light.
The tower had been built for another child, a baby who was lost to the sea, a daughter whose absence started a war. Neither the king nor queen lived in it. In all of Eilidh’s life, she didn’t recall her mother even visiting. Her father had periodically, but he could barely stand the sight of her. The Seelie Court was the court of beauty and light, and his daughter was not beautiful.
Waves surged against the tower, leaving behind dried salt that only added to the glitter of the tall building. Torquil walked her to the door, as he had so many times. Now, though, it felt like there were stares heavy on her skin. There was no doubt that word of his orders from the queen had begun to spread, and prospective brides were watching. More eyes on Eilidh would make her secret tasks even harder.
“Maybe you should pick a bride now,” she blurted. It wasn’t what she wanted, but a distraction would decrease his attention to her comings and goings. An announced bride would mean that the prospects wouldn’t be studying her, trying to decide if she was competition or a way to reach him.
Torquil opened the door to the winding stairwell that twisted halfway up the tower. This part of the tower was transparent, allowing any and all to see her approach so they could offer respect or flee her presence. The top, fortunately, was mostly opaque. The only other section of the tower that enabled watchers to see her was the uppermost floor. There, she moved like a wraith, not clearly visible, but a shape whose movement could be tracked through translucent glass.