Page 15 of Court of Lies and Deceit

“Can you stop your incessant bickering so that we can get this dinner over with?” Isera cuts in, leveling an exasperated stare at all of us.

Without waiting for us to reply, she simply turns on her heel and marches up the street. After a collective shrug, we follow her.

The house that the Unseelie King allowed us to borrow is located just outside the castle area. As if he wants us close so that his guards can keep an eye on us but doesn’t trust us to stay in the actual castle with him.

Our street is deserted, but from just a couple of roads over, I can hear the faint murmur of a bustling city. It’s evening, but the Unseelie fae seem to have plenty to do out in the city regardless. Casting a glance over my shoulder, I gaze in their direction even though I can’t see anyone because the rows of buildings are blocking the view. I can’t help but wonder what it would have been like to grow up in this city instead of the Seelie Court.

A few clanking sounds come from up ahead. I turn my gaze back to the view in front of me.

The castle guards, dressed in dark blue and silver, could see us the moment we stepped out of the door since they are stationed at the other end of the road, but all they do when we reach them is to open the small steel gate for us. I glance between them before casting a look in the direction of the main gates, which are halfway on the other side of the castle. Not exactly a grand welcome for us here by the side gate, but I suppose nothing about our visit here is normal.

A beautiful garden, complete with colorful flowers in full bloom and gently rippling fountains, meets us once we step inside the castle grounds. I stare at it, once again trying to readjust my perception of the Unseelie Court. Why have I alwaysbelieved that this court is dark and ugly and full of decay? Is it something that the dragon shifters have taught us? Or does this prejudice come from our own people?

We only make it two steps into the garden before a servant dressed in black and blue livery appears before us.

“Please, follow me,” he says without preamble.

Gravel crunches faintly under our shoes as we follow the servant along a pathway through the lush bushes and swirling flowerbeds. Tilting my head back, I look up at the grand castle before us. In the bright moonlight, the pale stone façade shimmers like silver. It truly is beautiful.

The servant guides us in through a side door and then through a series of corridors before finally stopping in front of a surprisingly unremarkable door. When they said that we were invited to a dinner with the Unseelie King, this was not exactly what I had imagined.

Once we are all gathered outside the door, the servant lifts his hand and knocks twice. “Your Majesty. Your guests have arrived.”

“Send them in,” his voice comes from inside.

With a nod to us, the servant opens the door and motions for us to enter.

Worry flutters through my stomach, and I have a sudden feeling that we’re about to walk into a trap. I glance at the rest of my companions. Based on the expressions on their faces, they are thinking the same thing.

In the end, Draven just shrugs and strides through the door. Pushing my gloomy premonition to the back of my mind, I quickly follow him. And so do the others.

To my surprise, there is no trap waiting for us inside. At least not one that I can see. It really is just a small private dining room.

A rich dark blue carpet covers the pale stone floor, and paintings of breathtaking night skies and scenery decorate the walls. In the middle of the room is a dark wooden table with nine chairs around it. Four plain chairs line each long side, and then a grand high-backed chair made of carved wood has been positioned at the head of the table. Faelight gems gleam from a chandelier above the table as well as from several swirling steel light holders along the tabletop.

The soft white light glints against the sparkling plates, already piled with food, but my gaze snaps straight to the lone person waiting inside the room.

Orion Nightbane is standing with his hands clasped behind his back. His elegant garments are impeccable, the blue and black fabric entirely spotless, and the silver details on them glint in the light. Even his long dark blue hair is done to perfection. Underneath his spiky black crown, his hair falls down over his back with not a strand out of place.

And when he slides his black and silver eyes over the six of us, I suddenly feel like a piece of mud that he has just scraped off his shoe.

Before we left the borrowed house, I took a bath to get the worst of the dust and blood and sweat off my body. But my boots are still scuffed, my pants frayed, and my shirt stained and ripped. Even though it’s warm in here, a shiver rolls down my spine when a draft slides over the naked skin of my back, clearly visible through the large hole in my shirt.

Never before have I felt my station in life more than I do at this very moment. A destitute, low class fish cutter standing before a king.

I half expect him to throw us out. To tell us that our appearances are unacceptable. That it is a grave insult to look like this when dining with the Unseelie King.

But to my surprise, he doesn’t comment on our ragged appearances at all. Instead, all he says is, “Welcome.”

Unsure of what to do, I nod in acknowledgment. As do my friends.

A slight smile ghosts across Orion’s lips, but he simply motions towards the table and then saunters over to that grand chair at the head of the table.

Draven and I claim the seats closest to the king while Galen and Lyra take the empty ones on Draven’s side. Isera sits down as far away from Orion as she can get, leaving Alistair standing in awkward hesitation for a moment. Since there are four chairs on either long side, and Isera and I occupy the ones on the ends, there will be an empty chair between either me or Isera depending on where Alistair sits.

After a frown in Isera’s direction, Alistair sits down in the chair next to me. Isera doesn’t even seem to notice. Her hard eyes are locked firmly on the Unseelie King.

He holds her gaze, a knowing smile that is as sharp as a knife on his lips, for a few seconds. Then he breaks eye contact and sweeps his gaze over all of us instead.

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