Page 41 of A Crown So Cursed
Málik blinked without pity, and if he was surprised by all that she’d revealed, he didn’t let on. Esme continued. “The Arimaspoi appear intent upon losing their only eye, and the elves have barricaded the upper valleys. Meanwhile, Old Habetrot circles above their wards like a rook awaiting carrion.”
“Who is Old Habetrot?” Gwendolyn asked.
“You don’t want to know,” said both Esme and Málik at once.
“And worse,” Esme continued. “The Lands of Eternal Spring are infested by shrieking will-o’-the-wisps. I hopped three realms in a fortnight simply to avoid them, seeking oblivion or a decent vintage. Found only the former. Now—” she fixed both of them with a meaningful look—“I believe I’d rather be here.”
“What do you mean, hopped?” Gwendolyn asked.
Esme shrugged. “Ask your lover. It is something he seems quite intent upon avoiding, choosing to do everything in the most laborious manner imaginable.”
Málik’s brows collided. “I have feet,” he allowed.
Gwendolyn lost herself for a moment, still wondering what Esme meant by “hopped.”
No doubt, there had been many times when she had suspected the Fae had other means to travel, and she even implied as much the night that Málik returned to their camp after doing Gods knew what to Loc’s men. “What business took you there?” he asked, and Esme replied saucily, her voice tinged with a mix of excitement and trepidation.
“Your father’s business. I tracked him, hoping to unravel the mystery of his disappearance. And let me tell you, Málik, that Wyrm knows how to cover his tracks!”
Gwendolyn blinked with surprise. “Your father lives?”
Apparently, today was a day for revelations.
“So it seems,” said Málik. “But what business was that of yours, Esme? If my father wished to reveal himself, he would have done so long ago, and yet he does not. Clearly, he finds no cause to return.”
Gwendolyn’s gaze did not leave Málik’s face, watching curiously as a tempest of emotions played across his features.Joy, confusion, anger, hope—each taking a turn.
So, his father lived, and Málik was not surprised, but he was angry.
“I thought you would be pleased.” Esme pouted, surveying Málik through heavy lashes. “You said you would sell your soul to know if he lived,” she added. “I didn’t sell mine, but I spent it, Brother, and I spent more of myself than you will ever know—all for you.”
For a moment, the mask dropped from Esme’s face—a flicker, a wince, not precisely one of pain nor of shame but of a weariness so old that even her bottomless well of bravado ran dry. “He’s been in hiding,” she offered petulantly. “But that is not all.”
She paused, her green eyes glinting with animosity. “Lord Elric knows where he is—he has always known. He andhisShadow Court made a deal with your father.”
“What deal?”
Esme shrugged. “If he left, and if Aengus should somehow be dethroned… and… if you should then wed his daughter… he would lie for him and claim he was dead and gone, instead of… well, killing him.” A weighty silence fell between them.
Esme turned to Gwendolyn. “That was his penance. He was to have been executed, and Lord Elric was the one to do it. But he took him into the Forbidden Lands and returned with the ceremonial dagger covered in blood—apparently no one even considered asking if he was dead, or simply wounded. After the portals were closed, I asked him about it, and he danced around the truth. So I knew.”
Málik’s face hardened, his ice-blue eyes turning as cold as the winter winds of his father’s refuge. “So, the Shadow Court’s machinations run deeper than we thought,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “And clearly, my father agreed to it.”
Esme shrugged. “He fled, at least? More than that, we do not know, and I asked why, but he would not say.” Gwendolyn’s heart ached for Málik.
“Did you speak to him?”
“Oh, yes,” Esme said. “He was...reluctant… at first. But you know I can be persuasive when I wish to be.” Her lips curved slightly.
“Will you make me ask?” Málik growled. “What did he say?” Once again, Esme’s gaze flicked between Málik and Gwendolyn, her expression uncharacteristically somber. “He spoke of regret, Málik. Choices made in haste. Bargains he wished he could undo. But little more than that. He was grief-stricken over your mother, and with her death found no cause to live. But he also speaks of a threat… to you. When he heard that the two of you—” She pointed to both Gwendolyn and Málik— “Were parted, and the portals closed, he feared Lord Elric would finally have his way.”
Silence.
“All I truly know is that he fears what the Shadow Court might do if he returns, and he fears that even more than he fears your wedding Lirael Silvershade.”
Málik nodded, his jaw working furiously. “Sheissued a challenge.”
“Lirael?”
