“I’d like my things returned first,” Lily said. “I’d feel safer entering unfamiliar places if I had my weapons.”
The queen rewarded her with an undeniably genuine smile. “You are my blood, indeed.” The queen raised her voice slightly as she added, “My granddaughter is neither prisoner, nor intruder, so there is no reason she cannot defend herself should the need arise.”
Then, Endellion stood. She withdrew a sword from her own side and walked toward Lily. It suddenly felt so quiet that Lily could almost swear that they were alone.
The queen stopped in front of Lily and held out the sword that she had worn at her left side. She was still very visibly armed, but the act of handing her own sword to Lily was both generous and politic.
Lily accepted the blade.
Endellion spoke as if they were alone. “I trust that you can use it?”
“My father was insistent that I learn any manner of things that suddenly make far more sense than they used to,” Lily said in a lower volume than the queen had used.
The queen’s expression hardened briefly, and Lily opted not to stress her human upbringing just then. She wasn’t about to deny that her father had been integral to preparing her for this moment though. Instead, Lily bowed her head and murmured, “I appreciate the use of your blade, Grandmother.”
“You may not have a gun here, and I suspect you might find a sword more useful than daggers.” Endellion’s lips curved in a smile that was more frightening than comforting. Her hand lifted, and Lily wasn’t sure if the gesture was intended to be threatening or the start of a caress. Suddenly, though, the queen extended her arm to the side instead. “Rhys? A replacement. I do not like to be unarmed.”
Then, the queen turned and walked away. Rhys, Eilidh, and Zephyr trailed after her. The rest of the assembled fae dispersed as if a command had been uttered, and in mere moments, it was only Lily and her escorts who remained.
thirty-one
LILY
As they walked in silence, Lily wished she had the opportunity to admire the beauty of the Hidden Lands, but for now, she followed Torquil as he led the three of them away from the queen and her assembled fae. There was no planning, no discussion, simply a brusque, “Tarrying is unwise.”
He remained silent but for the commands necessary to direct them to a tunnel system that would, apparently, spill them out in the part of the Hidden Lands where the king and the Seelie-born fae resided. His only revelation was when he said, “The queen used to swim across, but after the day of the incident”—he met Lily’s eyes briefly—“tunnels were created. These are the only way to travel between the two courts or to travel from the Hidden Lands into the world where you have lived thus far.”
Lily heard the things packed into that, the hint on how to escape, the implication that returning home might be forbidden, the useful fact that there was a second route between the courts. She nodded her gratitude at her soon-to-be-uncle and left anything else unspoken.
“What is your affinity?” he asked Violet in a kind voice as they exited the tunnels into the Seelie’s domain.
“Why?” Violet returned. She wasn’t as prickly as she’d been when Lily had first met her, but she was far from friendly. She studied him with such a thorough assessment that Lily wanted to blurt out the truth of why he had asked.
Torquil met her gaze briefly. He made no gesture, but there was no need.
“Are you always so snappish, child?”
Violet barked a laugh that Lily now knew was a sort of self-defense. “Child? How old are you then?”
He smiled. “I stopped counting a few decades ago.”
“Eilidh is far too young for you then,” Violet snarked.
“We are fae, and she is of my age generation.” Torquil shook his head. “Have you been taught nothing of your people?”
Violet shrugged, but didn’t answer.
Creed, however, took pity on him. “She’s trying to get your goat.”
“My . . . goat?” Torquil scowled. “Why does she think I have a goat?”
Violet made a rude gesture at Creed, who blew a kiss to her.
“Lily?” Torquil prompted.
Before she could reply, she saw two faeries approaching. Torquil obviously saw them too as he stepped in front of her. Both were Seelie Court by birth, like Torquil, but in affect, they reminded her of Rhys. Their attitude was arrogant, and their gazes barely acknowledged the sword that Torquil had drawn.
“Please don’t be foolish,” he said by way of greeting as the two faeries walked up with swords already in hand.
“So this is the girl,” the larger of the two said, studying her as most people would assess the mud on their shoes. “At least she’s not as abhorrent as the broken one.”
Torquil looked at the other faery, the one who stood silent. “Nacton, please remind Calder not to do something foolish. The queen has sent this girl to see your father, her grandfather, our king.”
Nacton shrugged.
“Are you here then as an escort to take her to see Leith?” Torquil asked, although his tone made clear that he did not believe that to be the case.
In a low voice, Lily told Creed and Violet, “Stay back and let him do his job. They are undoubtedly far more adept at swords and affinities than we are.”
The two Seelie princes were studying Torquil, as if he were the only threat. There was no way they could know that Lily and her companions were trained to kill—and she was hoping not to have to demonstrate that truth to them.
“Uncle?” Lily said, not caring which of the two acknowledged her.
The slighter one, Nacton, stepped away from Torquil and turned to face her. He studied her with a curiously pensive expression.
Violet started, “Lily—”
“No,” she interrupted.
Behind Nacton, Lily could see Torquil assume the fool’s guard, his sword tip pointed at the earth, as he attempted to bait Calder. It wasn’t a particularly bad move, but she had thought it was an oddly transparent one when her coach had taught it to her. On the other hand, it might be perfect for woefully arrogant opponents.
Calder stepped in, his longsword lifted high and up in the falcone position.
Torquil’s ploy wasn’t a move that should’ve worked, but Calder’s temper got in his way. He grew tired of waiting, stepped forward, and brought his sword downward from the right. The swords clanged together into the bind, and the fighters both tried to assess their opponent’s next move.
Unfortunately, Calder had the strong position.
Nacton leisurely struck at Lily, testing her like this was a class.
Fine then, she thought. She raised her weapon and went through cuts she’d learned in the old medieval manuscripts—in both German and Italian—that her father had procured for her. Nothing she tried earned more than the occasional smile from Nacton.
“Not completely useless,” Nacton acknowledged when she nicked his arm.
His strikes became aggressive, making her step back.
He drew blood on first her shoulder and then her leg. Neither was a deep cut. He was demonstrating that he could injure her.
When his sword tip grazed her hand, she stumbled.
Creed stepped toward them. “That’s enough.”