Lies of Murk by Eva Chase
3
Madoc
The woman hasn’t touched the plate of food one of Orion’s servants brought her. The scraps scavenged from the homes and eateries above us probably don’t compare to the elaborate feasts she enjoyed in the castles of the Mists, so maybe she thinks she’s too good to bother with the stuff.
Orion follows my gaze and pops a grape into his mouth. “If she wants to starve herself, she can give it her best shot. I doubt she’ll keep it up for very long.”
Having watched Talia from afar many times over the past several months, I’m not so sure about that. The memory comes to me of seeing her poised within one of those floating carriages, her knife at her own throat, holding herself hostage to ensure she wasn’t taken captive. She meant it. I could taste her resolve even at a distance.
But I keep my mouth shut on the matter. There’s no point in arguing with the king unless you’re sure it’s something worth pissing him off over.
Something about the way she’s sitting hunched in the corner of the throne room, the skirt of her fancy but tarnished dress tucked around her slim legs, niggles at me. Her usually vibrant hair droops around her face. She hasn’t let any tears fall, but there’s a burning in her gaze that suggests a deep anguish.
Which is to be expected. I expected it. It shouldn’t bother me.
It might be just that the pose reminds me a little too much of the one glimpse I was able to get of her in that summer fae Aerik’s cage. As if we’ve caged her, even though there’s nothing holding her in that spot.
“She doesn’t seem particularly enthusiastic about the plan,” I say, keeping my tone carefully mild—and quiet, even though there’s little chance her human ears could pick up our conversation from over there near the tracks.
“It’s shock,” Orion says. “Humans have such fragile constitutions, don’t they? She’ll get over it, and then she’ll realize that I’ve given her a great gift. She’s been instrumental in bringing down all those haughty bastards in the Mists. From what you and my other spies reported, most of them have been horrible to her. It’ll just take a little time for the deeper understanding to sink in.”
“Of course.” I roll the tension out of my shoulders and consider the other fae lounging in our king’s company. One of the men meets my gaze with narrowed eyes. The woman who’s most frequently been warming Orion’s bed these days shoots me a lascivious grin I’m sure is intended as a taunt rather than an invitation.
Even if she were inviting me, I know better than to lay my hands on anything my king has claimed as his own.
Most of Orion’s closest colleagues are several decades if not centuries older than me. They established themselves at his side when I was still a young man proving my worth. Some of them had a hand in the tests of my loyalty and determination. I’m never quite sure whether they’re happy I passed those tests or annoyed to have one more fae sharing access to the king’s ear. Who knows what they say to him during the long stretches when I’m away overseeing his plans in the Mists?
But if they’ve snarked about me, it hasn’t seemed to affect Orion’s opinion. I’ve shown how far I’m willing to go for him. Every time he’s called for support, I’ve stepped up first. He knows he can count on me.
And the others don’t like each other any more than they like me or I like them. Whatever sort of court our Murk king has, it’s a cutthroat one. But it needs to be if we’re going to carve our way through those we hate even more to bring our people to the home they deserve.
My gaze slides back to Talia. She’s pushed her hair back from her face and is tentatively scanning the room, her eyes warily alert.
“Should I assign guards to monitor her movements?” I ask. “Or will we be limiting the parts of the Refuge she has access to?”
Orion shrugs, his tail flicking in the air. “All the entrances are well-sealed. Not even a fae could get past them easily without knowing the right tricks, let alone a human. I see no need to waste our energy keeping that close an eye on her. We’ll give her plenty of rope and see what she does with it.”
The hint of a smirk that touches his lips makes the hairs on the back of my neck rise, but I tamp down my apprehension. Talia will learn quickly enough not to cross any of the fae here, especially Orion. She has to learn that. This is her life now, and she’d better get used to it.
We’re giving her more freedom than those bastards in the Mists did, despite all the rhetoric they’ve spewed at her that I can tell she’s bought into. The horror on her face when she noticed my tail…
I shake that memory off too. “Would you have me return to the Mists and observe how the fae of the seasons are reacting to losing her?”
Orion shakes his head. “Oh, no, Madoc. I have a much more important task for you.” He tips his head toward the woman. “I may not be concerned about her escaping, but it will be much more fun digging in the knife if we can decimate those puffed-up pricks with their savior on our side. And she’s been so close with their leaders, I’m sure she knows plenty of things we’d want to know too.”
My trepidation returns. I smooth it out of my tone. “What would you have me do, then?”
“I have to spell it out?” My king rolls his eyes. “You’ve watched her more than anyone else here. You know her well enough. Cozy up to her, win her over, and coax whatever information you can about the workings of the arch-lords’ courts out of her. If you can lure her into your bed as well, so much the better.”
A twinge shoots through my abdomen down to my groin. “You want me to seduce her.”
“Wouldn’t that be the perfect cherry on the sundae?” Orion says, idly tossing another grape. “Transfer her loyalty from those she calls her mates to you. I can’t imagine it’d be that hard, considering how many of the idiots she gave herself over to. And it shouldn’t be any great trial for you. She’s easy enough on the eyes.”
None of the other men she’s welcomed into her heart and her bedroom have been reviled rat shifters, though. Her distrust of the ravens was only overcome by the soul-twined bond Orion manufactured. I don’t have any benefit of that—not that I’d want her poking around in my head.
But he isn’t wrong that she’s pretty enough. I’ve studied that face from afar enough times to know it becomes outright stunning when lit up with a full smile. She just isn’t likely to aim any of those smiles at me.
“I’m the one who took her,” I point out. “She has enough animosity against the Murk in general—no doubt right now she hates me even more than the rest.”
Orion waves off my subtle objection. “Then consider it a challenge to grow your skills. She feels alone and frightened. She’ll be eager for an excuse to cling on to someone. Make yourself that someone.”
He turns away to speak to Grigor at his other side about something to do with the scavenging runs. It’s a clear dismissal. A prickle runs down my spine with the sense that he expects me to show I’m up to the task immediately. If I hesitate, he’ll question why.
It would be awfully satisfying to know we’ve conquered the fae of the seasons by turning the woman they’ve celebrated so much against them, wouldn’t it?
I step off the dais and amble over to Talia, leaving a few feet of distance when I stop. Her gaze darts up over me, and her whole body tenses, her jaw clenching. She automatically assumes I’m here to hurt her somehow, when I brought her all this way without a single injury other than a few stains on her elaborate dress.
She bought into the other fae’s accusations about the Murk so easily. I’ll happily start by tearing down as many of those lies as I can. What can I offer her that’ll upend her misconceptions about us?
I crouch down so I’m level with her. I need to at least get her talking with me first. This won’t be something I can rush, no matter how easy Orion thinks it’ll be.
“Not hungry?” I ask with a motion toward her plate.
Talia glances down at the food and then at me. “I don’t trust that I’ll feel better rather than worse after I eat whatever you’ve given me.”
She’s sharp enough to have learned at least that much about faerie food. I let out a light chuckle. “There’s nothing enchanted there. This is all pure mortal food. We don’t often indulge in faerie delicacies down here.”
“And why should I believe you?”
“Why would we want to get you drunk or high?” I ask. “If Orion wanted you not in your right mind, he could arrange that much more quickly with his magic. He doesn’t, though. You’re one of us now. You’ve helped us more than most of the fae around me. He might not show it all that well, but he appreciates your contribution. I certainly do.”
Talia’s shoulders stiffen even more. “I didn’t make that ‘contribution’ on purpose.”
“And that isn’t your fault. There’s no way you could have known. You didn’t betray anyone, if that’s what’s bothering you.”
She slowly unfolds her pose, settling her legs on the ground and drawing her back up straighter. I can’t suppress the flicker of admiration both at the admittedly appealing curves hugged by the fabric of her dress and the studied defensiveness in her stance.
Before, she was mindlessly shielding herself. Now she’s prepared for some kind of battle.
A battle with me. I haven’t made any progress yet.
“I don’t want to be here,” she says. “I want to go home. But obviously you’re not going to let me do that. You can’t expect me to be happy about it.”
“That’s fair.” I will my voice to soften, to shed any irritation I might feel at her devotion to the fae of the seasons, as if they’re the victims in the grand scheme of things. “Orion’s said that you can roam anywhere you’d like in the King’s Refuge here. You might not be happy, but I could help you find a spot where you’d be more comfortable. We could even construct you a house of your own.”
She studies me for a long moment, still wary but taking in my words. “I don’t think there’s anywhere here I’ll be comfortable.”
“You haven’t seen much of the place yet, or given it much of a chance.” I hold up my hands. “I realize you’re probably not ready to hear this yet, so I’ll just lay it out there and you can make of it what you will. The stories you’ve heard about the Murk are just that—stories. Told by those who’ve always wanted to keep us beneath them, who need excuses to justify how they’ve pushed us aside. We have craftspeople. We have artists. We bleed and love and sometimes even cry more than any of the fae currently living in the Mists can bring themselves to do. No one here intends to harm you. I’ll be patient with you, but whenever you’re ready, there’s so much I can show you.”
Talia’s expression has shuttered. She’s definitely not ready now. “No, thank you,” she says firmly. “I just want you to leave me alone.”
“I can do that too. But I’ll be easy to find if you need any help later on.”
I back away, returning to the edge of the dais. She might not be won over, but at least I planted a few seeds of my own—doubt about the overblown tales the bastards of the seasons have filled her head with, curiosity about everything the Murk truly are.
It’s a start. Orion took several decades growing his seeds that’ve come into fruition in her. He can allow me a week or two.
And I’ve scored one minor victory already. I don’t watch her overtly, but from the corner of my eye, I see her reach toward her plate and bring a grape to her lips.
