Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 132138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 661(@200wpm)___ 529(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 661(@200wpm)___ 529(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
“Will you please remember what your main job is?” Gillian asks.
This is a lecture I hear almost every day of my life on the run. “I don’t know. Remind me.”
Gillian huffs. “One day you are going to make a couple of men insane. I simply know it. Your job is to stay alive. Your job is to be a living, breathing woman when your brothers return.”
If they return. “I will endeavor to not become a corpse in the next few hours.”
Gillian comes up behind me, working the buttons up my back. When she’s done, she turns me around and looks at me, smoothing down the small bit of scalloped edges of the neckline. “I am sometimes glad that Torin planned his coup when you were a youngling since I could never make you pass for a boy now.”
I smile, but it’s a sarcastic thing. “I prayed for bosoms all my life. Now I rather wish I was slender.”
Gillian shakes her head. “No, you don’t. You’re beautiful exactly the way you are. Don’t let the current palace fashions make you think otherwise.”
There’s a knock on the door. Even his knock sounds short and officious, like the man himself.
Gillian takes a deep breath. “I know you’re angry, love, but hold on for a bit longer. Things are happening. I can’t see them clearly yet, but something changed a few months back. I felt it. I still feel it. Something’s coming.”
“That might not be a good thing, Gilly.”
“Please.”
How in all the planes can I deny this woman? I nod, giving her a silent promise to behave. Gillian calls out the window to let the mayor know we’re coming, and I follow her down the stairs.
Gillian was a princess. She could have gotten out. She more than likely could have negotiated with Torin for her release. Torin had been looking for allies, desperate for them. He would have loved having the Unseelie king in his debt, yet Gillian didn’t abandon me. She sought a way out for us both, and when that failed, Gillian McIver made a home for us here.
No matter how much I want to take my weapons and practice on the mayor, I’ll hold my tongue.
The door is opened, and there stands Micha and his ever-present guard.
“Ladies,” he says, bowing slightly.
I can hear him giving the women of the town advice. Even in a backwater province, courtesy is required. I wonder if he’ll be so courteous when I gut him.
I do what’s expected and curtsy, though not as deeply as he wants.
“May I come in for tea?” Micha asks with the smile of a man who knows the question is mere formality. “The palace has set forth some exciting new plans. I thought I would talk to my favorite citizens before they’re posted in the square for all to see.”
Gillian manages a bright smile. My stomach churns. He acts like it’s exciting news when it more than likely is a new and inventive way to kill those Torin despises. Fae are starving across the plane, but Torin seems more interested in coming up with ways to dispose of his enemies.
“Of course, Mayor. Please make yourself welcome.” Gillian invites him in, her hand sweeping gracefully across the room, as though she’s welcoming him into a palace, not the run-down tower that is their home. “And your guards?”
Micha’s nose wrinkles as though it’s too common to even acknowledge they’re there. “My guards will do their duties. Two will remain outside and one in the hallway. They have no need for anything so delicate as tea.”
The tightness of the guard’s mouth told Bron that perhaps he was looking forward to some food. Even the guards are on rations, it seems. When he notices me watching, he gives a tight smile and a nod. I think he’s giving me permission to ignore him.
“I’ll get the tea,” I say as Gillian shows the mayor into what passes for the parlor.
I start the tea and gather the bread and cheese. It seems a shame to waste it all on the mayor, who doesn’t look like a man who missed many meals.
“How is the crop looking this year?” Micha is asking Gillian.
“Better than even last year. Danu has blessed us.”
“The king will be happy to hear it. He’s requesting an extra twenty percent this year.”
I nearly drop the teapot. An extra twenty percent after he already takes half? It’s outrageous.
Gillian’s response is measured. “An extra twenty percent, did you say? I fear sending so much to the palace will mean our own people will starve.”
The mayor laughs. “Don’t you worry your pretty head now. We’ll be fine. The king has declared rations for all citizens. And he’s redefined citizenship. The king and queen will always take care of the sidhe.”
I force myself to pour the hot water into the pot. So he did it. Torin finally declared that only sidhe are true Seelie. The brownies and the trolls, the dryads and leprechauns, will be declared Unseelie and therefore undesirable. They will receive no rations. Any land they possess will be confiscated. They have no protections.