Page 9 of Vicious Kings
If I didn't know better, I'd think there was a hint of jealousy in her voice, but I dismiss it.
"You're telling me." I turn back around, letting her resume her work.
Her fingers are gentle as she sections my hair, beginning an intricate braid. "Are you really going to go through with it?"
"Do I have a choice?"
"There's always a choice."
"Right. I could refuse and they could execute me. Probably punish my father, too. Or I could try to run and they could hunt me down like an animal. Great options."
She secures the long braid with a leather tie and lets it drop down my back, then moves to a trunk in the corner. "What do you think it'll be like? The university?"
It's an obvious change of subject, but I'm grateful for it. I consider this as she pulls out various pieces of clothing. "Ostentatious and ruthless. Like everything else about the Fae."
"Here." She holds up a simple tunic and worn leather pants. "You need to look presentable but not... prepared. They want it to seem like you were cast out with nothing."
"Because I'm about to be."
She flinches but doesn't argue. We work in silence as I dress, the clothes fitting well enough. They're not my training leathers, but they'll do. She adds a cloak that's seen better days and boots that have been resoled at least twice.
"There," she says, stepping back to survey her work. "You look..."
"Like a discarded hunter who's been living rough?"
"I was going to say beautiful, but sure. Let's go with that."
A knock on the door interrupts whatever I might have said. "Time's up," one of the guards calls.
Vera's face crumples a little. "I guess this is it."
"Yeah. I guess it is."
We hug, awkward and stiff. Decades of friendship reduced to this stilted goodbye. She pulls back first, not quite meeting my eyes.
"Good luck, Billie. I hope... I hope you find what you're looking for."
What I'm looking for is Prince Corvinus's head on a pike, but I don't say that. I just nod and follow the guards out.
They lead me through corridors I've never seen before, deeper into the compound's administrative heart. We stop at a heavy oak door, and one of the guards knocks.
"Enter."
My father's voice. I steel myself and walk in.
He's standing by a window that overlooks the training grounds, hands clasped behind his back. He doesn't turn when I enter.
"You didn't run," he says. Not a question.
"If you thought I would, you don't know me," I say bitterly.
He turns then, and I'm struck by how old he looks. When did those lines around his eyes get so deep? They soften as he looks at me.
"No," he says quietly. "You are your mother's daughter."
There it is. The first hint of pride I've ever heard in his voice, and it's over this.
He moves closer, each step measured, and the softness vanishes as quickly as it appeared. "The Fae are not like us, Billie. They play games within games. Trust no one. Not even the humans around them. Especially not them."
