Page 22 of Wrath of the Fae Queen
“He is a dread hound. What do you expect?” Nico retorts.
Dante chuckles lowly. “Never expect a man to see fault in his beloved pet,” he chimes in beside me, and I give him a dark look. They talk like the creature peed on my carpet, not tried to kill me.
“Can we focus on the game?” Ada snaps. “Are you in or are you out, Aldrin? Do you have the nerve to go up against us?”
“A card game?” I ask. “And what is the bet? Drug me and beat me with a group of your friends if I lose? It is harder than that to trick me.”
Ada’s smile widens. “A drinking game. That is all. We may be Assassins of Belladonna, but we are not bloodthirsty maniacs. At least, not in our downtime.”
We all turn to Dante. A charged silence passes between the three assassins, like a silent conversation.
I don’t know about this, Aldrin,Keira says.What if they trick you? Or attack you?
I consider for a moment.They can do that anyway. There is no guarantee Dante or anyone else would defend me. He would probably call it another trial. Besides, I am incredibly good at both card games and drinking games. It may be a chance to earn some respect from these people.
“Don’t let me stop you.” There is a twinkle in Dante’s eyes when they connect with mine, but I have no idea what he is up to. “But he is your responsibility until tomorrow morning.”
Ada and Nico both shrug, but there is significance in those words. Maybe they won’t try to kill me. Not until tomorrow.
I stand, placing a hand to the sword sheathed at my back to remind everyone what it can do, then follow Ada and Nico into the next room. It is cozy in its own way. Multiple fireplaces lend a dim glow to the space and there are couches arranged in groups with assassins sitting in them, talking and drinking. Tables are set up with cards, dice and bones, half of them occupied.
The card game they pick is one I know well. A smug exhilaration fills me when I thrash them in the first round. Nico picks up the bottle of spirits in the center of the table and fills two of the three tiny glasses. Both losers knock theirs back quickly. I win the next round, and lose the third by a narrow margin. I drink my liquor from Nico’s cup, just in case they have tampered with mine, and it burns as it goes down, with herbal afternotes.
He flexes the long claws of one hand repetitively, then rubs at the puckered skin across one forearm. “It is fucking hard to play a card game in my Nightmare form,” he growls as we are dealt our next hand and he struggles to pick his up.
“Excuses, excuses,” Ada mumbles as she scans her cards.
I look at Nico and truly see him. There are still deep cracks in his antlers and the tiniest bits of ash keep peeling from his skin, like a high fae with sunburn.
“Are you…not fully healed yet?” I venture.
He gives me a dark look. “It will take a few days. My kind is from the darkest depths of my court, where not even the starlight enters. I am far more susceptible to light than Ada here.”
“And too much of a baby to visit the healers.” Ada places her cards on the table, showing her winning hand.
“Their lotions are full of alcohol,” Nico grumbles. “It only inflames the flesh.”
For some ridiculous reason, I suddenly feel bad for the guy, even though he would have sliced my head off with those claws of his. Apparently, what happens in the trials stays in the trials, with no hard feelings.
“You realize I am the King of the Spring Court, right? That healing flesh is one of my court’s specialties? Let me help you.” I touch his wrist, but he pulls back.
“I do not need your sympathy. The wounds are just part of the job.”
“Come on. Prove to me that you’re not a baby afraid of a little healing pain, like Ada suggested,” I say, gripping his arm again.
“How do I know you aren’t just trying to look at my cards?” His voice is low and gravelly.
I ignore him, pouring my raw power into the place where we touch, probing along his skin and the deeper tissue and finding all the lacerations. My wields knit them together and my raw magic enables the growth of flesh that burned away under the light. He grunts and tenses as the pain increases and the healing draws on his own magic, but I don’t let him pull away. The popof bone resounds as his antlers crack back into place and the fractures there disappear.
My head spins and pain flashes behind my eyes, causing my vision to black out for a heartbeat. I am forced to pull my hand back before I am entirely finished. I blink multiple times to bring my vision back to normal. Maybe the toll of today’s trial had more of an effect on me than I realized.
Nico cracks his neck from side to side, then shifts into a form with alabaster skin and long-fingered hands with black nails. His antlers are far smaller, paired with black hair, and the bony skull sits upon his head like a morbid hat.
I hold my cards before me with numb fingers and try to focus on the symbols, but my vision keeps doubling. Regardless, I know I have lost this round. I slam the cards down on the table, grab a waiting glass and throw back my head to down the liquor.
“Do you feel better?” Ada murmurs to Nico.
“The splitting headache is gone and my skin no longer feels like it is on fire,” Nico replies.
