Seven Black Diamonds (Seven Black Diamonds #1)(22)

“Her mother—”

“Foster mother,” Rhys interjected with more anger than was typical of him.

“They found someone, a faery, who helped and taught her everything she needed to know. She learned it all, everything but who she is.” Eilidh got up and paced to the edge of the room. Down below her, faeries stared up at the tower. They didn’t usually watch her this closely, but then again, she didn’t usually have the queen’s son or one of the most sought-after pureblooded fae in her home. Having either of them in the tower was new; having both here was drawing a disturbing degree of attention.

“They’ll think we’re plotting against our queen,” Rhys said.

“I know.”

“She will ask questions of me,” he continued.

“I know.”

“And I will lie.”

Eilidh looked over her shoulder at him.

“But we aren’t plotting against the queen . . . are we?” Torquil asked.

Neither Eilidh nor Rhys answered.

After several moments passed, Eilidh looked back out the window of the tower, staring at the dozens of fae who unabashedly gazed up at her. Quietly, she offered, “I will accept the withdrawal of your betrothal should you see fit to change your mind.”

“And I will slide the knife across your throat if you go to Mother with what has been spoken here,” Rhys added conversationally.

“Is your family always like this?” Torquil sighed. “No. To both of you, no.”

He stood. Eilidh knew without looking that it was Torquil and not Rhys approaching her. Rhys was too silent to move so obviously through the sitting room. He had to make a conscious effort not to move like shadows.

She didn’t turn around.

“I’ve held your secrets our whole life, Eilidh. Why would that change now that you’re my betrothed?” His hands landed on her shoulders as they had often in their years as friends.

She felt his breath stir her hair as he stood behind her. Quietly, she told him, “We won’t ever be wed. You can withdraw now or later, but we won’t have a bonding ceremony.”

“Endellion accepted my choice.”

“No,” Rhys said, drawing their attention back to him. “Endellion allowed you to be Eilidh’s betrothed. There will be no wedding. She won’t risk Eilidh’s life that way. The heir is too important.”

Eilidh slipped out of Torquil’s hands and walked back over to her brother. “Is he in danger?” she asked Rhys.

Rhys was still as he thought. It was a look Eilidh had seen on their mother’s face often as she weighed the consequences of various plans of action. After several moments, Rhys said, “Not from Nacton or Calder. They’d like you to die. If there were a living child, the infant would be at grave risk, but for their purposes, you must die and leave no young.” Rhys glanced at Torquil. “You are not to bed the heir. Not now or ever . . . unless Iana’s daughter comes home. Then you are no longer of any concern.”

“Her life is worthless then?” Torquil came to stand at Eilidh’s side. He didn’t quite step in front of her, and no weapons were drawn, but the aggression in his posture was enough to make it clear that he wouldn’t restrain if he thought his betrothed was threatened.

“Stop.” Eilidh grabbed Torquil’s wrist and stepped in front of him. She was facing him, her back to Rhys. “He’s stating the truth. This is what it means to be the heir: always knowing that there are those who would have me dead, and . . . those who would use me.”

If she’d revealed his motive for their betrothal, Torquil showed no sign of it. All he said was, “Then why not let Iana’s child take her rightful place?”

“Because she’s been raised away from this place. Because she’s not meant for this life.” Eilidh shook her head at how obvious it was that Torquil had never loved anyone. How could she wish this fate on someone she loved? How could he think that being bonded to a faery not of her choosing and living in a glass tower would be satisfying to a woman raised in the human world?

Eilidh turned to face her brother. “There is no risk of a child being born to me.”

Rhys nodded. “Keep it so.”

Torquil tensed behind her, and she squeezed the wrist she still held.

“I must go, and he can’t stay here if you have no chaperone,” Rhys announced with all the finality of a father.

Her own father never fussed overmuch about such things, not with her or with his sons. Nacton and Calder were both older than Rhys, and they’d been raised to believe that the world was theirs. Until the unification of the courts, it had been.

“I am immeasurably pleased to hear you speak of my safety, but the walls are transparent and our people watch,” Eilidh reminded her brother. “If Torquil is to be my betrothed, he will visit me.”

“Only in this room.”

Torquil’s voice was sharp as blades as he said, “You have no right to tell—”

“There are those who would kill him before they would see you with child.” Rhys spoke over Torquil as if he wasn’t there, speaking only to her, dismissing her betrothed pointedly. “And if Mother thinks he has bed you, I will be sent to remove him. There is no way to refuse that order once she has issued it. If you care for him at all, you will not allow him where the people cannot see him. They must know that you are inviolate.”