Page 8 of Kiss the Filthiest King

Still, these are my folk; the puppets I've played for hundreds of years.

"Lords and ladies."I clap my hands together. I know them. All they want is a spectacle, and I can give them that. "The high queen welcomes you."

Because thisismy sister's court. Not mine. Never mine.

I swore. Iswore.

Then I release you of any and all previous oaths, Loch Oberon Night of the house Harthorn.

My true name. She only had to look into the depth of my eyes to see it, to feel it, and to undo everything I've ever been.

I swore and now it means nothing. I could steal her place if I wished. She made sure of that.

I may be standing in front of all the lords gathered for the rites, hundreds of gentry and their retinues, each more dangerous than the last, but I barely see them, my mind forever replaying the moment where she turned the blade to her chest and pressed the iron into her own heart, killing herself. Undoing me.

Which is why this is her court. Her throne. Her crown.

Ryther better bring her back. He has to. And in the meantime, my job is holding on to this house of cards to make sure her palace is still standing when they return. And they will return. They must.

"And where is the queenspawn?" the duchess of the court of wings sneers.

What's her name again? They change rulers so fast in those frozen peaks, murdering each other as a Sunday brunch game.

"Yes. Is the little queen hiding?" I recognize Junis, the new winter leader, though he's too boring for me to have dealt with him yet.

He only stands out in his unsuitability for his position.

Rena of the bright court huffs a sunny laugh. She's distinctive enough, if only because she's been in power as long as I've been alive, one of the few rulers to have kept her head along with her crown for so long. In fact, I'd say there are only three alive who can boast as much: herself, Ryther Crow, and his elusive brother, the leader of the hunt, notably, and inconveniently absent.

I could have used some support. Without him or Valdred, it falls to me; Ryther's pup, Caenan; and a vapid sea whore to hold the fort.

Kingdoms have been held by worse odds, I'd wager. None come to mind right this moment, however.

"Hiding?" I chuckle brightly. "Whatever for? She's run circles around the lot of you for three days, and none could so much as get a teeny tiny bite. She's won the rites and is our queen. She'll see you at her leisure. Likely when she's done mourning the parents you butchered."

I sweep the crowd with a glance, catching far too many sneers and not enough shivering.

I could make them shiver. I could make them suffer. I could make them respect me. But every ounce of deference they show me would be detrimental to Darina upon her return. The folk should only fear one power.

"Stay. Rest. Be merry in these long-forgotten halls. All rooms are at your disposal but the queen's quarters. Feel free to squabble over them."I turn on my heels, whispering to my right. "Your assistance was greatly appreciated."

Caenan stiffens, caught out. "I was scanning the crowd. Reading the minds I could reach, in order to identify the biggest treats."

Oh. That is helpful. "And?"

"The bright court. She's less hateful than some, but there's a clear plan in place already. She's going for the sister. Valdred ought to reach her first, I believe. Junis, if only because he suspects he may still be able to compel Darina, and is likely right. But the lords have already decided to reform the original Council. Three seelie, three unseelie seats. They'll demand to see her in close quarters, and soon. Try to wrest power when they can."

I groan. I really would rather be dead for the ruling part. That was thedeal.

"And where's the sea whore?"

To say I'm not fond ofRelva would be an understatement, and not all of it is her doing. If I were in a fairer mood, I'd say none of it is. It's not her fault one of her mortal kin wronged me--nor that she looks so much like the witch-bitch.

"Being considerably more efficient than you, as far as providing distractions goes," she retorts, appearing from a servant's entrance off the dais.

She's dragging a heavy cart behind her, so large it must have been meant to be pulled by a pair of horses. In one glance, I can tell she's right.

She brought wine.

---