The Stolen Heir by Holly Black

“It is said she can find all lost things,” says Oak. “Maybe even see into the future. But we wish to know about the past.”

Queen Annet smiles in a way that makes me worried. “I do not seek to anger the High Court by misplacing their prince. I could give you a marking to write on your shoes that would lead you straight through the swamp.”

Oak opens his mouth, looking ready to thank her and be off on our way.

“And yet,” Queen Annet says. “Let us consider your traveling companions. A kelpie, your bodyguard, and a fallen queen.” Her gaze goes to me. “Do not think I do not know you, Suren, daughter of ice.”

My gaze meets hers, quick and hostile, before I can make myself otherwise.

“And Hyacinthe,” Oak says. “Whose return I would appreciate.”

“Your prisoner?” Queen Annet raises her eyebrows. “We will secure him for the time being so that you need not play jailer in my house.”

“It is no hardship,” Oak says. “Whatever else you think of me, I know my duty to a captured foe, especially considering that my father is more than a little responsible for his being cursed. I ought to be the one to look after him.”

Queen Annet smiles. “Sometimes duty can be a hardship. As long as everyone is well behaved, I will return him anon. Headed north, then, are you?”

“I am.” The prince looks wary.

“The High Court won’t help your father, will they?” the queen goes on, studying Oak.

He doesn’t answer, and she nods as though his silence is answer enough.

“So you’re left to save Madoc yourself.” The queen draws forward on her throne. “Does that sister of yours even know you’ve embarked on this quest?”

Jude, we can’t just let him die. That was what Oak said when he was delirious and half-unconscious.

That’s why he seems tired and anxious, why he’s the one putting himself in danger with only a single knight at his side. Why he and Tiernan evaded so many of my questions. Because Lady Nore took his foster father prisoner. And since Madoc was a traitor, banished from Elfhame, no one else is willing to lift a finger to get him back.

“What a dutiful boy you are,” says Queen Annet when he doesn’t answer.

The tilt of his mouth goes sharp-edged.

My heart beats double time. If he hid this from me, he did it for a reason. Maybe it was only that he thought I had cause not to like Madoc, since he was allied with the Court of Teeth. Or maybe he knew that we would be at cross purposes when we arrived at the Citadel, me wishing to bring Lady Nore down, and him looking to negotiate.

“The High Court might not thank me for aiding you,” Queen Annet says. “Might even punish me for my part in your plan. It seems you’ve brought trouble to my household, Oak of Elfhame. This is poor repayment for our generosity.”

And now, after realizing the game Oak has been playing with me, I understand the game Queen Annet has been playing with him.

Faerie rules around hospitality are extremely specific. For example, invoking parlay is how Madoc got the High Court to allow him, Lord Jarel, and Lady Nore to walk right into Elfhame without anyone touching a hair on his head, even though he had an enemy army camped right at the edge of one of the islands.

But once he lifted a sword and broke the rules of hospitality, well, all bets were off.

The Court of Moths declared themselves to be our hosts, so they were obligated to take care of us. Unless we were bad guests. Then they’d be free to do whatever they liked.

But what could Annet want from him? A boon for her unborn child? The bridle? The head of the heir to Elfhame?

“If my sister bears anyone a grudge for this,” Oak says, “it will be me and me alone.”

Queen Annet considers this. “Give me your hand,” she says finally.

He does, turning it palm up. She cuts the tip of her finger with a knife taken from a strap at her wrist, then writes a symbol on his skin. “Trace that onto your shoes, and you will find your way through the swamp.”

The ease with which she has given us what we want makes it clear to me she anticipates getting something from us later. Something we would not give her now, if she asked for it.

“We are all gratitude.” Oak inclines his head toward her. This seems like a cue to curtsy again.

“I take very seriously my obligations as a host,” Queen Annet warns, then gives Oak a small, strange smile. “You may depart in the morning. For tonight, make merry in my halls. You will need a little warmth where you are going.”

Somewhere nearby, a new group of musicians starts up, playing an eerie tune.

As we make our way from the dais, Tiernan puts his hand on Oak’s arm. “I don’t like this.”

I push my way into the crowd. My thoughts are a tangle. I recall Hyacinthe referring to Lady Nore communicating with Oak. She would have had to if she wanted him to know she had his father. And whatever else he intended, whatever he told me, Oak wants to secure his father’s freedom far more than he wants to stop Lady Nore. Were I his sister, I wouldn’t send him north, not when his goals might not match her own.

His goals almost certainly don’t match mine.

“Elfhame requires your assistance.” I repeat his words back to him with a sneer.

He doesn’t look half as guilty as he ought. “I should have explained, about Madoc.”