Heart of the Fae (The Otherworld #1)(94)

“Not a word,” she growled at them. “Take these ladies back to their quarters, or where ever you put them.”

“They stay with the concubine.”

“And I say they go. If you wish to argue, please tell your king to meet me here. Otherwise, put those women where they can sleep off the opium.”

The guards stared at each other, shrugged, and two left with the faeries tucked under their arms.

Sorcha closed the door once more. Elva’s privacy could be contained within these walls. No guards needed to gossip any more than they already were going to. The king and his favored concubine both relied upon opium. Enough that their fingers were stained with its poison.

The story of a beautiful city filled the air. It twisted in the smoke and filtered out the windows as Sorcha threw them open. Fresh air would do a world of good for this room.

She piled the pillows against the far wall and placed her fists upon her hips. There wasn’t much else she could do in such a fine room. This wasn’t built to be a comfortable living place, but a feast for the senses.

“You don’t live in a very practical bedroom,” she murmured. “Pretty it might be, but useful it is not.”

Elva didn’t stop mumbling her story. The words seemed to ground her. The opiates were slowly filtering out of her system as Sorcha puttered about.

She stuck her finger in a small groove in the wall. A door popped open, revealing what looked to be all the items she would need to clean.

“Convenient,” Sorcha said. A bucket of water waited for her, along with a mop that looked as though it had never been used before. Why keep something in a closet if it would not be used?

Faeries. They would never make sense to her.

She poured the water onto the floor and scrubbed stains and smells. “Elva! Enough with the story my dear, I think I know enough to believe I lived there.”

“Humans can’t live there.”

“No? That’s a shame. We’re not all that bad.”

“I’m beginning to see that.” The fog had cleared from Elva’s voice. Now, she sounded more ashamed than babbling. “What are you doing?”

“Cleaning.”

“Yes, but why?”

“Because there is hookah oil smudged into your floor, and the entire place reeks of opium.” Sorcha paused to blow a red curl from her forehead. “Don’t you ever have anyone scrub the floors?”

“None other than you.”

“Hmph. If you aren’t going to do it yourself, you should have someone clean at least every once and a while.”

“Why not you?”

“I’m not for hire.” Nor would she ever be. The longer she was in this place, the less Sorcha liked it. How had Stone grown up in this place?

The thought filled her mind until it was all she could think of. Stone had lived here. He had grown up here. The king was his brother. And the king’s concubine sat only a few feet from her.

Moving the mop once more, Sorcha stared down at her work. “Elva?”

“Yes?”

“Did you know that the king has a twin brother?”

“It’s blasphemy to even mention that the king has a sibling.”

“Does that mean you won’t tell me about him?”

Elva rolled onto her side to watch Sorcha work. “I knew him.”

“The king?”

“His twin.”

“What was he like?” For once, she could speak about Stone with someone who wouldn’t hide the truth from her. There were enough opiates in Elva’s system to loosen her tongue. This might be the moment when she finally figured out his story.

“He was an impressive man. The king and queen took different routes to raising their sons. The eldest boy tended towards the wild and feral faeries. They feared he might turn Unseelie, so they convinced him to train his mind and body as a warrior. He was the most fearsome creature who ever lived.”

“You speak as if he no longer exists.” Sorcha couldn’t clean and listen at the same time. She leaned the mop against the wall and sat down on a stool. “Is he dead?”

“Gone. And if you’re lost to this world, you’re as good as dead.”

“Where?”

“Banished. Some say he still lives on Hy-brasil, but I have many contacts there. If he lived, I would know.”

“Do you think he was murdered?”

“I wouldn’t put it past the king to do everything in his power to keep the throne. His twin was the favored son. He was perfect until his brother destroyed him.”

“So I’ve heard,” Sorcha murmured. “You said you knew him?”

“As best as anyone could. He was older than I and always fighting the Unseelie. There was something wild in him that could not be tamed. He frightened me. He frightened most of the faerie women, but we all wanted him. You know we used to call him the red stag?”

“The red stag? Why?”

“There was something in him that wasn’t faerie at all. Something that spoke of beasts in the wood, whispers on the wind, magic in his blood that didn’t come from the Tuatha dé Danann. He was dangerous, and I think his brother saw that in him.”

Sorcha hung on every word. She leaned forward until she perched on the very edge of the stool. “What did the king think his brother would do?”