Page 103 of What Fools These Immortals Be
“No,” Maurice scoffs. I think the sound is more a reflex than anything else, but it doesn’t stop Meilyr from nodding to one of the selkies—the one who brought Maurice up here, not me. A blow hits me across the shoulders so hard that I stagger, almost falling to my knees. Maurice growls again, entire body rigid in the chair.
“What thefuck?”
“You should show me some respect.”
“I don’t know who you are.”
Meilyr studies Maurice for a moment. “Your ignorance is not necessarily your own failure, I suppose. My name is Meilyr. I am a cousin of the royal family, a fae of the Unseelie royal court.”
Maurice doesn’t look away from him. He doesn’t look at me at all. “Why are you here, Meilyr?”
“Why do you think? I will never sit on the throne.”
“The queen still lives.”
Meilyr shrugs. He is wearing a silky, shimmery robe over a regular shirt and trousers, and the fabric shines in the light. “For now. But even when she passes, I will not be the one to replace her.”
“Why’s that, then?” Maurice asks. “You seem powerful enough to take it.”
Something in Meilyr’s gaze sharpens. His smile grows even wider, is almost manic in its intensity, and I brace myself for another blow.
When it doesn’t come, I try not to let the relief show on my face.
“It is interesting, the facts your Huntsman reveals to you,” Meilyr says.
“You know he is not my Huntsman any longer.”
“Your blessing, yes.” Meilyr tilts his head to one side. “Unfortunate, but irrelevant.”
“Why did you come here?”
“As I said. I will not be the one to take the throne, so why not take power here?” He crosses one leg over the other, and he and the fae around the room seem entirely at ease with this train of thought. “If I wipe out the Wild Hunt, then I can establish myself. Once the queen finally dies, the Guardians will fall apart. Who is left to stop me then? The scattered, powerless fae who’ve been hiding in this realm for centuries? Or maybe the handful of mages our prince didnotdestroy?”
“Humans are stronger than you think.”
“That matters very little. The remaining princes will not save the Otherworld, and they will not save this realm, either. Who is left, then? You?”
Maurice doesn’t answer. My gaze flicks between the two of them. I am not certain I understand everything, but I can get the gist. The mages wiped each other out, I thought, but if they were manipulated by the fae…
It would make sense why it seemed to happen so quickly. Not that it matters much to me now. I cannot see a way out of this room. Though Maurice and I are fast, I do not know if vampires are faster than fae, and I do not know, either, if the house is warded, or how strong the doors are, or if there are other fae lying in wait…
“What do you want?” Maurice asks sullenly, drawing me back into the conversation again.
“I want all the information you have about the Hunt,” Meilyr says. “Every single scrap, no matter how insignificant you think it may be.”
Maurice looks vaguely queasy, and an unsettling chill goes down my spine.
“I can’t,” Maurice says. I don’t think he’s saying that to Meilyr, not really, because we both know what’s going to happen next. “Ican’t.”
“On the contrary,” Meilyr replies, tone silky and cruel, “I think you very much can tell me everything I want to know about the Hunt and what you know of its Huntsman. You’ve been a hunter for so long, after all.”
“That’s why—No.”
Meilyr’s expression hardens, and he looks at one of the fae behind me. Hands grab me—more than one pair—and I keep my lips firmly pressed shut as I’m forced to my knees.
“Of course I know the Huntsman will have prepared you to withstand a great many things. But him?” Meilyr huffs, his smile mean. “What will his screams do to you, hunter?”
“Don’t,” Maurice breathes, horrified.
