Ambrosia (Frost and Nectar, #2)(27)

I felt dizzy, short of breath. “And if we refuse to kill each other tomorrow?”

“Lost One.” She cocked her head, and her expression was almost maternal. “I plan to throw you off the tower. I think it’s merciful, really. You are a traitor, but you are Unseelie. But Torin? As an enemy of our kingdom invading our lands, I believe most of my subjects would say he deserves a very slow, humiliating, and excruciating death. And Lost One, wouldn’t it hurt you to watch it before you plunged from the tower walls? Love can hurt more than the worst tortures we can devise.”

Her softly spoken words hung in the air like a death knell.





16





AVA




My heart was still slamming against my ribs as Morgant led me through the castle with its vaulted halls of stone and vines.

A slow, humiliating, and excruciating death…

Sconces jutted from the walls, made of something that looked like smooth bone. Their warm candlelight danced over Morgant’s white hair, his enormous frame, and the wood walls. If it came down to it…

If it came down to it, I would absolutely not be able to take him in a fight. Nor could I take down Torin, so I had exactly zero plans for tomorrow. And even if I could stab Torin, I didn’t want to.

At least we’d bought ourselves some time, I supposed. More time to find out if he’d found the Veiled One. More time to charm the queen, or whatever it took to get out of here alive.

Morgant’s boots echoed off the stone floor, and he turned to look back at me. “You are lucky our gracious queen didn’t rip your heart out. She is giving you the gift of a chance. And death by the sword is certainly preferable to anything else she might dream up.”

My mouth felt watery, like I was about to vomit. “Let’s find out how lucky I am tomorrow. Morgant, where is Torin?”

He bared his canines in a show of aggression, but I had the feeling his heart wasn’t really in it. “You must stop asking your questions. I’d advise you to leave well enough alone. The queen ordered you two to stay separate.” He cut me a sharp look. “Rest, so you can kill him tomorrow. You may be a traitor, but you were one of us once. And I want to watch you kill their broken king.”

My stomach twisted. I was skilled at fencing, yes. But Torin had spent his life training with the best swordsmen of Faerie, fending off challenges from petty kings and their sons for half his life. Slaughtering them to defend his throne. He probably had dozens of deaths at his hands.

At last, we reached an arched wooden door, and Morgant pushed it open. I breathed in the humid air, scented of basil, lemon, and mahogany. Blue wooden arches swooped over me, and steeply peaked mullioned windows were inset into the walls, overlooking the kingdom of stars and red leaves. Firelight on a stone hearth danced over a bed and a claret rug spread on the stone floor.

It was a million times nicer than the dungeon, except for the heavy pall of icy dread hanging over me.

Morgant stood in the doorway and folded his enormous arms. Shadows danced over his leather-clad body and long hair. “Where did you come from? ”

Frustration simmered. “I thought you said Mab already knew.”

“She has not informed me yet.”

“Well, I have no idea. My family could have been glamoured in the human realm for hundreds of years, for all I know.” I dropped onto the bed and let out a long breath. “I honestly doubt I’ll get any sleep tonight.”

The fact that I was even talking to the queen’s torturer was a sign of my desperation.

His brow furrowed, and he pointed to a copper bathtub near the hearth. “There are herbs there to calm you before you sleep.”

“What can you tell me about the duel tomorrow?”

“If Her Highness wanted you to know any details, she would have told you. She always has a plan, and she does not make mistakes. All you can do is rest tonight and kill the king tomorrow.” Morgant pointed to a dark wood dresser. “Clothes in there. Your door will be heavily guarded. Do not try to leave.” He stepped closer and lifted my chin, his eyes piercing mine. “Do not try to see your Seelie dog, or you will both die. And then I get the pleasure of putting the cur out of his misery. It will be worse than death by a sword. You understand?”

A wintry shadow swept through my mind, and I imagined the vines around us snaking over him, dragging him away.

I swiped his hand away. “Don’t touch me again.”

The corner of his lip curled. “Maybe you do seem like one of us.

“Why do you hate Torin so much? ”

A breeze rushed into the room, toying with his hair. “He sends assassins after us, using fae with the ability to move between worlds. Once, I woke to find a Seelie assassin in my room. I was able to kill him, but my brother was not so lucky. Torin had him slaughtered in his sleep.”

Oh. That explains the reception we’d received.

Morgant turned, and the door slammed closed behind him.

I sat in silence, my body buzzing with exhaustion and nerves. I still clung to one thread of hope: that Torin had learned something from that crone. If not, we would need to find a way to free ourselves. We’d turn our swords on the queen if necessary—break free or die trying. Or maybe there would be a loophole of some sort?

“Stab,” she’d said. “Skewer.” What if I skewered a pinkie? An earlobe? Fae were bound by oaths, weren’t they? She’d have to let one of us free if we skewered a little bit of skin. The freed person could summon help from Faerie.