Page 60 of Better in Black
General Winter drew his scarlet-hilted sword, and strode over to Master Finian. “Empty your pockets if you wish to keep your rib cage.”
For a moment, Finian cringed away, his lips pulled back in a hiss, like an animal cornered. But he was surrounded—Brissole and Geraint had already moved to block his way, as had Adaon and Winter. And Cristina and Mark were on guard, their hands on their weapons, ready to join in.
Winter caught hold of the back of Finian’s embroidered jacket, and held him still while Adaon searched Finian’s pockets. Quickly enough, Adaon caught hold of something and drew it forth: a silver chain with an etched glass vial on the end of it. The vial was filled with scarlet liquid.
“What is this?” Adaon demanded. “Poison?”
Cristina hurried forward and took the vial from Adaon. “It isn’t poison,” she said. “I’ve seen this before. When the old King of Unseelie kidnapped the son of the Seelie Queen, he took vials of his blood, for they contain a strange power.”
Mark nodded in agreement. “That looks like the vial that the old King and the Cohort used to pit demons against us in the battle of the Imperishable Fields.”
Master Geraint and Lady Brissole were looking at each other in shared surprise and confusion. It seemed that whatever their brother had been up to, they had not known of it. Geraint turned to his younger brother with a scowl. “Explain yourself, Finian. Where did you get this?”
“There is only one place he could have gotten it,” said Kieran. “The glass is etched with my father’s sigil. He had many such dark instruments, for he was fascinated by evil enchantment. All these items were locked away after his death. Master Finian seems to have stolen this vial from the darkest rooms of the palace treasury.”
“Why did you take this?” Winter demanded of the cringing Finian. “What do you plan to do with it?”
“I did not take it!” Finian cried. “Someone has smuggled this into my pockets to incriminate me—”
He broke off with a fit of coughing.
“That is a lie,” Cristina said.
The others—save Mark and Kieran—looked at her in confusion. “Finian is true fey, if a scoundrel,” said General Winter. “He cannot lie.”
“The only true thing that Finian has said since he came to this court is that he does not want the Knighthood,” Cristina said. She was standing very tall and proud as she spoke; Kieran thought she looked magnificent. “From the moment Mark and I came intothe banquet, we sensed demonic magic. We knew it was coming from one of the heirs, but we didn’t know which one. When we spoke to the heirs this morning, we discovered a problem—each of them had an object that they claimed had been given to them by Kieran, each one infused by demonic magic. But as we discussed earlier, just because we are led to believe that a message or gift is from Kieran doesn’t mean it really is. The gifts were meant to hide which claimant was actually using demonic magic. At first we discounted Finian, because he did not want the Knighthood, but he was the only one who lied to us, a feat no faerie should be capable of.”
“What?”Lady Brissole said, aghast. “How could he lie?”
“As many know, I have made faeries a study of mine,” Cristina said. “There are rare instances in which faeries can be enchanted such that they may lie, usually by demonic magic. But the lies exact a terrible price on them. Finian has been pretending to be drunk, though he’s been sober this entire time. He was trying to hide his illness—which is not at all a hereditary condition in his family. It is the lying that is exacting a toll on his body. The more that Finian has lied, the sicker he has become.”
Finian narrowed his eyes. “You say I am a liar? Name a single untruth I told you.”
Cristina tossed her dark hair. “I can, easily. Adaon told us that Finian was in the Seelie Court at Samhain, but then Finian told me that he was here at the Unseelie Court for Kieran’s birthday…which falls on Samhain. That was a lie, and when you told it to me, you could not keep yourself from coughing up blood.”
“This is all slander,” Finian said, but he coughed again and had to wipe blood from his mouth.
“Enough. Open your mouth,” said Mark, glowering. He also looked magnificent, Kieran thought, even as Finian clamped hislips shut like a stubborn child. A moment later the point of Mark’s dagger was at Finian’s throat, and Finian opened his mouth, looking murderous.
Brissole gasped. Even from across the room, Kieran could see the black-and-red lines, vicious and ugly, that scored Finian’s tongue and throat. Demonic sigils.
General Winter shouldered past Mark and seized Finian, hurling him to the ground. As Finian whimpered, Winter drew his bloodred sword, and raised it high—
“Wait,” said Kieran, his voice low but forceful. “Tell me, Finian—what did you want with this vial? You are no dark magician; no demons do your bidding. So what use could you have for it? Or, as I suspect, did someone else send you here to take it? Someone who could have a use for such a thing? Tell me who sent you to steal from me and I swear, I will show you mercy.”
Finian rolled onto his stomach and spat blood onto the floor of the throne room. When he looked up at Kieran, his blue eyes were blazing, full of hate. “Oh, the mercy of the great King Kieran,” he sneered, “who believes he should rule over all Seelie and Unseelie alike. Never mind that he has no real claim to the Unseelie throne. Never mind that his rule was forced on us by Shadowhunters.”
“More lies,” Mark snarled, but Kieran raised his hand, his eyebrows quirking. “I know those words,” he said. “I know who speaks them, who believes that I covet the High King’s throne. The Queen of Seelie sent you here.” Kieran’s voice thickened with disgust. “What sweet lies did she tell you? What promises did she make you, if you did her bidding?”
“You are wrong,” Finian hissed, wiping blood from his lips. “I have no love for the Queen of Seelie; I do not serve her. There is someone else, someone who I would die to protect. Someonewhose life might be forfeit if I did not do this thing, who I must protect at all costs.”
“Who is that person?” General Winter demanded. “Why would they ask you to do this?”
“They did not ask me,” said Finian, wiping blood from his lips. “It was my choice to do this. To help them—”
Kieran felt a twinge of sympathy. He was all too aware that if someone threatened Cristina or Mark, he would do anything to save them. He passed a hand over his face. “General Winter, get Finian to his feet,” he said. “Perhaps we should, ah, put a pin in this business—”
Without a word, Geraint exploded into action, leaping onto his younger brother and stabbing downward with his broken spear. Finian gave a single choked cry as he was pinned to the floor, then went limp, clearly dead.
