Page 92 of What Fools These Immortals Be
I don’t even pretend I’m going to fight as the selkie woman lifts the magical barrier and Augustine runs to my side. He has cuffs now, though they’re not iron like the fae are wearing. Still, they’re heavy when he clamps them around my wrists.
It is better not to fight. Better to have an idea of what I’m up against. I already know I can’t escape the cellar—I’ve had a full day to try.
And even if I did, would I want to leave all those fae behind?
No, it is better to be compliant and see if I can find an opportunity upstairs.
Augustine is not gentle as he shoves me up the steps, and Reijo’s dark eyes are wide and fearful as he watches me go. The selkie woman follows, tugging the door shut behind us, and then Augustine is pushing me through a house I have never been in before.
We are still in London, I think. Some kind of Victorian building, but that could be many areas of the city. Augustine shoves me out of the kitchen and down the hall to the sitting room. All the curtains are drawn along the way, and I grit my teeth when I realise I can’t tell if there are magical barriers that will hinder my escape.
It matters not. We walk into the sitting room, and I know, immediately, that I will not be able to escape tonight.
I am not a person who can sense magic, but I do not need that ability to know that this fae is the one who trapped me and Maurice days ago. He sits in an armchair in front of the bay window, directly facing the door we enter through. His countenance is all power and pride, and he reminds me of Rook and Saide in the way he is not hiding what he is.
Dark eyes bore into me as Augustine shoves me into an armchair facing the fae’s. I don’t take my eyes off him. Fuck Augustine. I could kill him easily, and I think I just might.
“You are the new crai,” the fae says. His voice is light, almost soothing, and I lean forwards without thinking about it.
Is that his magic or something else?
Augustine growls when I don’t answer right away, and I resist the urge to roll my eyes. “Yes,” I say, though it must be obvious. “I am.”
“And you have been associating with members of the Wild Hunt.”
He says the final two words as though they disgust him.
“Yes, I have.” No point in lying. Everyone knows Maurice and Asher were protecting me and Deacon.
“Tell me about them.”
“Excuse me?”
The fae makes a little hissing sound, baring sharp, needle-pointed teeth. “Tell me.”
“There’s nothing to tell. And I don’t know who you are.”
Augustine’s growl is more of a snarl this time, but the fae holds up a hand to quiet him. “No, no. Let him have his curiosity.” It is hard to tell where his dark eyes are looking if he does not turn his head, but Ifeelhim turn his attention to me, uneasiness prickling over my skin. “My name is Meilyr. I am an Unseelie high fae. Do you know what that means?”
“I have an idea.”
“Then an idea will suffice. How many are there, in the Wild Hunt?”
I shake my head, surprised by the non sequitur. “I don’t… I don’t know.” I know of a few of them, but I never asked how many hunters there were in total, and even if I had, I don’t think Maurice would have answered.
“How many would you estimate are in the city?”
“I don’t know.”
Next to me, Augustine tenses.
Meilyr’s lips twist into a sardonic smile. “My little pet here is anxious to sink his fangs into you, but I told him that can wait. There are other ways to get what we require.”
He twists one hand, and the cuffs around my wrists tighten, then begin to burn. I tense every muscle in my body, fighting against the pain. They know it hurts—I can see it on Meilyr’s face, even with how expressionless he is—but I won’t give them the satisfaction of showing it.
“This can stop, crai,” Meilyr says, sounding almost bored. “Just tell me what I need to know. I’m certain you won’t be betraying anyone.”
No, I can endure it. Except the pain is spreading, crawling up my arms and shoulders, and I fear if it escapes into my chest, around my heart—
