A Court of Thorns and Roses
Page 70

The Attor chuckled, the sound like sizzling water on a griddle, and a taloned foot jabbed my side. “Tell Her Majesty why you were sneaking around the catacombs—why you came out of the old cave that leads to the Spring Court.”
Would it be better to kill the Attor, or to try to make it to Amarantha? The Attor kicked me again, and I winced as its claws bit into my ribs. “Tell Her Majesty, you human filth.”
I needed time—I needed to figure out my surroundings. If Tamlin was under some kind of spell, then I would have to worry about grabbing him. I eased to my feet, keeping my hands within casual reach of my daggers. I stared at Amarantha’s glittering golden gown rather than meet her eyes.
“I came to claim the one I love,” I said quietly. Perhaps the curse could still be broken. Again I looked at him, and the sight of those emerald eyes was a balm.
“Oh?” Amarantha said, leaning forward.
“I’ve come to claim Tamlin, High Lord of the Spring Court.”
A gasp rippled through the assembled court. But Amarantha tipped back her head and laughed—a raven’s caw.
The High Queen turned to Tamlin, and her lips pulled back in a wicked smile. “You certainly were busy all those years. Developed a taste for human beasts, did you?”
He said nothing, his face impassive. What had she done? He didn’t move—her curse had worked, then. I was too late. I’d failed him, damned him.
“But,” Amarantha said slowly. I could sense the Attor and the entire court looming behind me. “It makes me wonder—if only one human girl could be taken once she killed your sentinel …” Her eyes sparked. “Oh, you are delicious. You let me torture that innocent girl to keep this one safe? You lovely thing! You actually made a human worm love you. Marvelous.” She clapped her hands, and Tamlin merely looked away from her, the only reaction I’d seen from him.
Tortured. She’d tortured—
“Let him go,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.
Amarantha laughed again. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t destroy you where you stand, human.” Her teeth were so straight and white—almost glowing.
My blood pounded in my veins, but I kept my chin high as I said, “You tricked him—he is bound unfairly.” Tamlin had gone very, very still.
Amarantha clicked her tongue and looked at one of her slender white hands—at the ring on her index finger. A ring, I noticed as she lowered her hand again, set with what looked like … like a human eye encased in crystal. I could have sworn it swiveled inside. “You human beasts are so uncreative. We spent years teaching you poetry and fine speech, and that is all you can come up with? I should rip out your tongue for letting it go to waste.”
I clamped my teeth together.
“But I’m curious: What eloquence will pour from your lips when you behold what you should have been?” My brows narrowed as Amarantha pointed behind me, that hideous eye ring indeed looking with her, and I turned.
There, nailed high on the wall of the enormous cavern, was the mangled corpse of a young woman. Her skin was burned in places, her fingers were bent at odd angles, and garish red lines crisscrossed her naked body. I could hardly hear Amarantha over the roar in my ears.
“Perhaps I should have listened when she said she’d never seen Tamlin before,” Amarantha mused. “Or when she insisted she’d never killed a faerie, never hunted a day in her life. Though her screaming was delightful. I haven’t heard such lovely music in ages.” Her next words were directed at me. “I should thank you for giving Rhysand her name instead of yours.”
Clare Beddor.
This was where they’d taken her, what they’d done to her after they burned her family alive in their house. This was what I’d done to her, by giving Rhysand her name to protect my family.
My insides twisted; it was a concentrated effort not to empty my stomach onto the stones.
The Attor’s talons dug into my shoulders as it shoved me around to face Amarantha, who was still giving me that snake’s smile. I had as good as killed Clare. I’d saved my own life and damned her. That rotting body on the wall should be mine. Mine.
Mine.
“Come now, precious,” Amarantha said. “What have you to say to that?”
I wanted to spit that she deserved to burn in Hell for eternity, but I could only see Clare’s body nailed there, even as I stared blankly at Tamlin. He’d let them kill Clare like that—to keep them from knowing that I was alive. My eyes stung as bile burned my throat.
“Do you still wish to claim someone who would do that to an innocent?” Amarantha said softly—consolingly.
I snapped my gaze to her. I wouldn’t let Clare’s death be in vain. I wasn’t going down without a fight. “Yes,” I said. “Yes, I do.”
Her lip curled back, revealing too-sharp canines. And as I stared into her black eyes, I realized I was going to die.
But Amarantha leaned back in her throne and crossed her legs. “Well, Tamlin,” she said, putting a proprietary hand on his arm, “I don’t suppose you ever expected this to occur.” She waved a hand in my general direction. A murmur of laughter from those assembled echoed around me, hitting me like stones. “What do you have to say, High Lord?”
I looked at the face I loved so dearly, and his next words almost sent me to my knees. “I’ve never seen her before. Someone must have glamoured her as a joke. Probably Rhysand.” Still trying to protect me, even now, even here.
“Oh, that’s not even a halfway decent lie.” Amarantha angled her head. “Could it be—could it be that you, despite your words so many years ago, return the human’s feelings? A girl with hate in her heart for our kind has managed to fall in love with a faerie. And a faerie whose father once slaughtered the human masses by my side has actually fallen in love with her, too?” She let out that crow’s laugh again. “Oh, this is too good—this is too fun.” She fingered the bone hanging from her necklace and looked at the encased eye upon her hand. “I suppose if anyone can appreciate the moment,” she said to the ring, “it would be you, Jurian.” She smiled prettily. “A pity your human whore on the side never bothered to save you, though.”
Jurian—that was his eye, his finger bone. Horror coiled in my gut. Through whatever evil, whatever power, she somehow held his soul, his consciousness, to the ring, the bone.
Tamlin still looked at me without recognition, without a flicker of feeling. Perhaps she had used that same power to glamour him; perhaps she’d taken all his memories.
The queen picked at her nails. “Things have been awfully boring since Clare decided to die on me. Killing you outright, human, would be dull.” She flicked her gaze to me, then back to her nails—to the ring on her finger. “But Fate stirs the Cauldron in strange ways. Perhaps my darling Clare had to die in order for me to have some true amusement with you.”
My bowels turned watery—I couldn’t help it.
“You came to claim Tamlin?” Amarantha said—it wasn’t a question, but a challenge. “Well, as it happens, I’m bored to tears of his sullen silence. I was worried when he didn’t flinch while I played with darling Clare, when he didn’t even show those lovely claws …