Seven Black Diamonds (Seven Black Diamonds #1)(17)

Their silence was unbroken until they reached the first floor of the tower. It was a sitting room designed to allow her the privacy of conversation without offering easy access to her bedchamber. The faeries milling around outside could see them all clearly. Awkwardly, Eilidh gestured to the uncomfortable but lovely guest chairs.

Rhys gave her a chastising look that spoke loudly and motioned toward her own divan. He was too court-familiar to sit before her. Torquil, likewise, had stayed standing. By right of rank, he and Rhys were equal now. Rhys was the queen’s son, but Torquil was the heir’s intended.

Eilidh blushed as she realized her faux pas. “Sorry.”

Once she sat, Rhys and Torquil exchanged a tense look, neither willing to admit a lesser rank and sit last, but neither wanting to clamber into a chair gracelessly to insist on higher rank.

“Is this necessary?” she prompted after the two fae stood awkwardly for several moments. “We’re in my home, not in front of the queen.”

Reluctantly, both faeries simultaneously sat.

“May I speak freely?” Rhys asked.

“Always,” Eilidh promised. She had wanted a closeness with her siblings for years. Only Rhys seemed remotely capable of that. If this horribly unplanned betrothal elicited sibling affection, she was ready to declare the whole thing a fine idea . . . even if she wasn’t pleased at the idea of Torquil’s unexpected political machinations.

“She’ll have me slit his throat before she allows you to wed,” Rhys announced bluntly.

Torquil said, “The king—”

“Does not control my mother, even a little,” Rhys interrupted. “She is Unseelie, and angry, and has pinned every hope she has left on Eilidh and the halflings.”

Torquil frowned at him. “The . . . ?”

“The Sleepers.” Rhys spoke slowly, as if Torquil should’ve known that secret. When he realized that Torquil didn’t, his gaze turned to Eilidh. “You didn’t tell him?”

“If the queen or king wanted it spoken, it would be,” she pointed out.

“You are more like her than I realized,” Rhys said, and from his tone, she was fairly sure it wasn’t a compliment.

Eilidh nodded. “I am their heir.”

“Until she has another child or finds the missing daughter.”

“The baby died at sea. Everyone says so,” Eilidh said mildly.

“Can you say that she died?” Rhys prodded. “Tell me I’m wrong, Patches. Tell me you aren’t aware of where our missing sister had been hidden. Tell me that I missed some of your machinations, and you actually planned this mess with”—Rhys gestured at Torquil—“him.”

“You know I can’t,” she said.

He continued as if she hadn’t spoken, “You are the heir, my replacement at the head of the Unseelie fae, as well as Nacton’s replacement for the other court.”

“There is only one court,” Torquil started.

Rhys ignored him, speaking only to Eilidh. “I realized that I could serve you or hate you. Calder and Nacton chose hate. I think Mother was right to unify the courts. I will support that path, which means protecting the heir. To do that, I had to know your secrets—and the queen’s secrets.”

“Oh.” She wasn’t expecting this, not his support and certainly not his implied knowledge. Eilidh wasn’t sure where to go or what to say. She glanced at Torquil again.

Through it all, he had sat silently, the slight widening of his eyes the only true clue to how shocked he was. He’d maintained his calm facade well enough to convince Eilidh that he might make a fine consort after all.

“Eilidh?” he prompted.

She sighed. “Which disaster do you want to discuss first?”





eight


LILY

Choices matter. That was the greatest and the first of the Abernathy Commandments. Some families had the Ten Commandments hanging in their foyer; the Abernathy household had security cameras and a framed list of the first eleven Abernathy Commandments. There were more than eleven now, and the original ones had evolved a bit, but that framed list would never be replaced. Her mother had given it to her father before Lily was born. Daidí had said that it was how he knew that she was his soul mate.

Abernathy Commandments

#1: Choices matter.

#2: Be yourself.

#3: Never get caught.

#4: Weigh the consequences before beginning a course of action.

#5: Be bold.

#6: Never confess your vulnerabilities if you can avoid it.

#7: Secrets are valuable. Don’t part with them for free.

#8: Make use of opportunities that arise.

#9: Be kind to those who deserve it.

#10: Know when to be assertive.

#11: Know when to walk away from trouble.

Lily had grown up in the shadows of those commandments—thinking that every family had a set of rules to avoid “complications,” thinking security cameras and bodyguards were normal, thinking that all good fathers were opposed to sending their daughters to school.

In truth, Lily had been perfectly content with the way things were. She didn’t want a change. Being around people her own age, especially people who weren’t raised in a world where there were different kinds of “good,” was far from appealing. Being around normal people would make it hard to hide her own peculiarities too. Learning at home meant not making many friends, but it had also meant not having to hide herself. It seemed like a fine trade-off.