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.”
“No sister to me,” Calder spat.
Torquil drew his sword, moving into a position that had his blade raised high overhead like an oxen’s horns. “I would willingly bleed out every drop of my blood for Eilidh.”
“So be it.” Calder’s blade swung toward Torquil, whose own sword met it with a sharp ring of steel on steel.
Rhys was still in position awaiting this inevitable moment. It was far from the first time the two royal sons had crossed blades, but the sight of it always filled Eilidh with horror.
Nacton came in for a scalp cut, but Rhys knocked the sword away easily with his blade. The two eldest fae princes watched each other and feinted a few times. Rhys, in truth, was likely just toying with Nacton. That didn’t make the fight any less traumatic for Eilidh.
They exchanged blows, each movement precise enough to make obvious that the two fighters anticipated the strikes as quickly as they were employed. The air was filled with the sharp clatters and sinuous slides as their swords met, pressed, and met again.
“Stop this foolishness!” Eilidh snarled at the four of them. Regardless of what she felt toward her Seelie brothers, having any of their blood flow would result in anger from one of her parents.
No one even deigned to reply.
Rhys was dominating the fight, and after several minutes, he hit Nacton with the flat of his blade—an insult that provoked an ugly word and sudden burst of attempted cuts from the Seelie prince.
Simultaneously, Calder swung his sword forcefully enough that only Torquil’s agility spared him from genuine injury.
Louder, Eilidh repeated, “I said stop.”
Solid walls of earth surged up between Calder and Torquil.
Calder immediately tried to go around it, and Eilidh sighed in irritation as she bent the earth like a prison around him. “Do you truly want to challenge me? I am the only fae who could kill Father’s son with impunity.” With one brother imprisoned, she turned to her other Seelie brother. “I will not have you kill my betrothed or my brother because you hate me.”
Nacton lowered his sword and glared at her. Rhys and Torquil lowered their weapons as well, but they both kept their attention on the Seelie fae.
“Do not make this more unpleasant than it already has been,” she managed to say in a falsely steady voice. The combination of her emotions and the forceful use of one of her affinities made her slightly shaky. It wouldn’t do for any of them to know that, however, so she forced the tremor away.
Torquil and Rhys came to stand on either side of her, as if they were all at a formal gathering. They still had weapons at the ready. Although Seelie fae were thought by humans as more benevolent, the Seelie were just as untrustworthy as the Unseelie, and the princes were both particularly biased against Rhys.