Page 114 of A Song of Air
Rainer stepped down. His teeth gleamed like they were made of iron and gold. He gnashed them in Weylyn’s direction, brandishing his claws like a threat that Weylyn knew he had every intention of following through with. Rainer’s own hair was spun from oil just like their mother’s, though his curled at the ends, which were dusted in shimmering silver light like the Unseelie who spawned him.
“Let us kill him and be done with it, mother,” Rainer spat. His hatred was a glimmering, poisonous thing. Weylyn did not fear it.
He did not fear any of his siblings, in fact.
No matter how sharp their teeth and claws.
“Why have you returned?” his mother asked, already sounding bored.
Weylyn could not bring himself to respond. Because she would demand truth, twist his words, attempt to pull out deals he had no business making. That was the way of the Unseelie.
It was the way of the royals.
It was the way of himself.
“Speak or I will cut out your tongue for your insolence.”
And likely wear it around her neck, too.
“I stepped into a circle,” he confessed. “It brought me here.”
The court around him cackled at the foolery of his reply. Everyone knew to stay far away from circles because of what kind of magic they carried. But he’d be made to look a fool a thousand times over, if only it kept their attention from Bryson.
“So you came here by accident,” his mother mused, though nothing in her tone was amusing. Venomous, enraged, yes. But nothing else lived in those depths.
“That is what I said, yes.” He lifted his head and swept his gaze around, narrowly avoiding coughing up the blood he felt in the back of his throat. “And I see you have changed decorators. Iron makes for quite the furnishings, yes?”
The queen flicked her clawed fingers on the armrest of her throne. “Insolent as ever.” Then slowly, her stare turned cold in Bryson’s direction.
Weylyn fought to keep a straight face, but the queen was already standing and walking down in their direction. He didn’t make a single move. Not even when the queen dropped to her knees in front of Weylyn’s mate and lifted her chin with hard fingers.
“And who is this little creature?” she purred.
Weylyn wanted to jump between them. To block Bryson from his mother’s sights, but it was already too late.
Bryson’s scarred face was looking directly at the queen, taking in whatever her vision allowed her to see. But she did not reply. She glared defiantly.
The queen smirked at that and leaned forward, pressing her nose to Bryson’s hair. She inhaled deep, a rumble echoing through the chamber of her chest. A moment later, she pulled away and exhaled.
“This Fae reeks of you,” she mused. This time there was humor there as her gaze snapped back and forth between Bryson and Weylyn. “From the stench, I will take a single guess.”
No, Weylyn wanted to snarl.Don’t say it. Don’t say it.
His eyes must have conveyed his wishes, because his mother stared at him and smirked. Like he was a pathetic little prey of an animal she ensnared within her claws and meant to rip apart in a single motion.
“She is your mate, is she not?”
Bryson gave nothing away, but it was too late. Already his mother had seen the truth. Their smells intermingled because of the bond, because of their proximity. And the queen knew. With a single glance, a single whiff, sheknew.
There was a hush proceeding her words as the court processed what she’d said. Then, a ripple went through the crowd.
Mate.
Mate.
Mate.
Matematematematematematematematemate—
