Seven Black Diamonds (Seven Black Diamonds #1)(70)

Rhys frowned. “Tonight changes nothing.”

“You have a son, one Mother has been willing to sacrifice, one she has kept hidden from you,” Eilidh said as they entered the Hidden Lands.

“Yes.” Rhys slid his longsword free. The sibilant sound of fae-wrought steel against the scabbard was something that always felt like home to Eilidh. For as long as she could recall, there had been guards who stood at the ready when she was at any official functions. Both Rhys and Torquil had been among them. The elegant sound of drawing weapons was a sound that had always meant “safe” to her. Maybe it would be different if she’d ever been attacked, but up until now, weapons were drawn to practice or to guard her.

“Is that necessary?” Torquil asked.

Rhys glanced his way for a fraction of an instant, but said nothing. He obviously felt it was necessary, or he wouldn’t have drawn the blade.

“Did you see someone?” Eilidh prompted in a voice that was a shade quieter than a whisper.

Again Rhys said nothing.

Eilidh had known him long enough to understand that his silence was because he was concentrating on whatever he’d seen or heard. Their journey to the tower wasn’t going to be as direct or easy as she’d expected. “Where?” she asked her brother.

Torquil looked around them, tensing as he saw the threat that Rhys had heard. Both of the Seelie princes walked out of the darkness toward them. They were alone, without any friends or lackeys trailing in their wake, but that didn’t mean that this was a friendly visit. More likely, it meant that the Seelie princes wanted no witnesses to whatever they did or said next. Like Torquil, Eilidh’s Seelie brothers were beautiful in ways that defied words. Nacton was thin of build, dark of skin and eye, and taut of muscle. If every sunlit temptation were made into form, her brother would be the result. It was no wonder that fae of both courts had often vied for his attention. Calder, however, was a different kind of wonder. As a child, Eilidh had imagined him as a moving mountain, graceful despite his size, but intimidating all the same.

“Nacton,” Torquil greeted his court-mates. “Calder.”

“So you’ve thrown your lot in with her?” Nacton speared Eilidh with a disdainful stare, making it painfully clear that he found her beneath him in every way. “She’s as hideous as most Unseelie, so it makes sense for the Unseelie dog to support her. But you? I’d expect more of you, Torquil.”

“You speak of your father’s heir,” Torquil said, his voice growing sharp.

“She might be the heir now, but that will change.” Calder let his attention sweep Eilidh much the way he appraised a weapon or a meal. His next words made it very clear that she was found wanting. “Look at her, cousin. Broken chit that won’t survive her childbed. She certainly won’t keep the Hidden Throne long if she even dares take it.”

Nacton touched his brother’s arm, not in affection but as if he were halting an eager pet. The elder Seelie prince shook his head and said, “Bed her, and she’ll die. That leaves you as father to her get, who will next take the Hidden Throne.”

Calder shuddered exaggeratedly. “But the bedding . . . you go further than I’d be willing to.”

Torquil didn’t reply to either of Eilidh’s Seelie brothers. He’d, undoubtedly, heard their hostility before this.

Rhys kept his blade tip pointed at the earth, but it did little to make him seem less threatening, especially if you knew anything about swordplay. The low-guard position might be called the “fool,” but it wasn’t in reference to the fighter. It appeared as if Rhys wasn’t prepared, but it was actually a difficult position to attack. Everyone there knew that. Rhys had crossed blades with both Seelie princes for longer than Eilidh had been alive. They never struck fatal blows, but they certainly drew blood often enough.

Rhys’ next words only added to the menace emanating from him. “Do you think that the queen won’t hear your treasonous words?”

Calder’s smile was a flash of teeth and threat. “I don’t care what she hears. My father won’t let her have me killed or you’d have tried by now.”

“Exile is not unheard of.”

“When this one”—Nacton nodded toward Eilidh—“dies, there is no other heir. There will be no unified courts when she is dead.” He met Rhys’ eyes. “I may not like you, but I have no trouble with you taking the Unseelie throne. I will take my rightful throne. Things will be as they should: the two firstborn sons ruling two separate fae courts.”

“And the current king and queen?” Rhys prompted levelly.

Calder shrugged. “It’s not like they can have another heir.” He nodded toward Eilidh. “This is their best effort. The others all died in the womb, aside from the one that died in the sea.”

There was silence for a moment.

“And if I have a child?” Eilidh’s voice fractured the hostile silence. “I would die for our people. If that means carrying a child who could be healthy enough to take the throne, I would do so. The regents know this.”

“There are those who would have no trouble killing a child or stealing it and sending it to live with an unsuspecting human,” Calder said with less emotion than he’d give to a fine meal.

Rhys’ blade lifted, drawing all eyes to him. “I am charged with our sister’s safety. Do not threaten her or her unborn.”