When the Pawn [Saalyn]

[Alecto]

"Why is it wrong?" Prince Andrei repeated.
"It's not given to people to judge what's right or wrong.
People have eternally been mistaken and will be mistaken,
and in nothing more so than in what they consider right and wrong."

War and Peace

Alecto did not want to write the letter. That was the only explanation for why the quill stuck in her palm, awkward, like she was trying to perform an autopsy with a spoon. She reread the opening lines:

Princess Saalyn, Niceven, Mistress of Restoration,

Dearest Princess, I regret how long it has been since our last meeting. I have heard that you were instrumental in the recovery of the Unseelie people, after the attack at Imbolc -- the Darkling Throng is fortunate to have you. I wonder if the Seelie fared as well.

I have some news that I would share with you, before it is made public.

Here she stalled, the feather poised over vellum, laden with ink and ready to drip at any moment. She knew that the next step was to invite the Niceven to dine with her, or walk with her, or cavort with her in some manner that would allow her to spin the lie that would keep her alive. But despite the Fury’s misgivings about Saalyn, it was a difficult thing to shit on their already tenuous trust. The candle beside her sputtered, having burned too long; dawn was rising outside, and the wick had lengthened to the point of smoking since she lit it. Alecto sighed.

Since it is my custom to pique the interest of the higher court with paper, I thought it would be fitting to extend a formal invitation. If you would honor me with your presence this evening at the Jade Door, we can catch up over dinner. I will be there before sundown.

And she was, after sealing the note and sending it off, and spending the next several hours at menial tasks in her own chambers. The vial burned like a firebrand against her breast, though she wore it now encased in a silver amulet, studded with tiny rubies. They flashed like fire, drawing the eye, but Alecto thought there was no better hiding place than plain sight. And besides, the relic was a symbol from her past -- an obvious tribute to the Fury she had been, with its miniaturized depiction of a winged hell-hound, wreathed in snakes.

Otherwise, her garb was simple: a black linen chiton gave her the look of a caryatid, and silver sandals bound her feet. The babe inside her was so small that her belly barely showed in such a costume, though Alecto doubted Saalyn would miss such a change. Perhaps she would be spared the burden of vocalizing the news, and could begin with the counterfeit circumstances straightaway. One could hope. Her eyes drifted over the room as she waited. It was a quiet establishment, frequented mostly by courtiers, and the light was kept romantically low. If she was lucky, her Lord would be listening in.

Depending on one’s definition of luck.

[Saalyn]

The weeks following the attack at Imbolc had been slow. A sense of normalcy had begun to reemerge amongst the citizens of the Unseelie Court, even if an edge of caution was still ever-present. Although the eclipse had passed, and the warriors of old who had risen from the grave had once again returned to their earthen beds, the threat of the shadow-like Drow had yet to diminish. True, there had been no subsequent attacks since the one on the Festival, but the knowledge that one could occur at any moment had left the faerie of Alanor in a state of paranoia. Saalyn couldn’t say which was a worse fate.

The Niceven’s life had been all politics since that horrendous night after the attack—talking with the citizens, reading and answering their letters, all of her efforts focused on easing their anxiety and assuring them that the Court was doing everything it could to maintain the safety of their home. It was a tiring endeavor, and seemingly never-ending, but Saalyn understood that it was a part of her duty. She couldn’t expect her King to be burdened with such menial tasks when he had so much more to worry about, and so she never once complained. At least not out loud.

Saalyn was in the middle of writing a reply to one of those letters, this one to a concerned Nimbus merchant, when she heard a knock at her door. “Enter,” she called without hesitation, knowing that it could only be the Lycanthrope guard that remained stationed outside of her room every day. He was a giant of a creature with some sort of large cat for a mantel, considering that he was more feline in appearance than anything else. Despite the obvious taint in faerie blood, Saalyn actually liked the Garlanger. He was silent unless spoken to and simply did his job, which was all she could really ask for when it came to a bodyguard that was forced upon her in light of the Drow insurgence.

Bodyguard. Saalyn had scoffed at the idea. She might not have much physical strength, but there was little a Drow, or any other form of faerie or creature for that matter, could really do to harm her thanks to her Restorative magic. Still, she supposed that having one around had its uses—like for delivering messages, for instance—and so she had agreed to have the constant presence in her life to maintain some semblance of actually having a choice in the matter.

“From Princess Alecto,” the Garlanger’s low voice growled out the name as he offered her the letter. Saalyn looked up from her desk, first gazing at the guard before her gray eyes sought the piece of folded paper in his hand. She took it immediately. The Niceven hadn’t seen nor heard from the woman since the attack. Saalyn knew she was well from her conversation with the Nimbus Conri, Jun, but hadn’t had the chance to try to get in contact with Alecto considering how busy she had been these past few weeks.

Saalyn didn’t notice the Garlanger guard leave the room as she quickly read over the letter. When she reached the middle, her brow creased. She read over the line again.

I have some news that I would share with you, before it is made public.

Leaning back in her chair, the Niceven looked up at the ceiling. What news could Alecto have that she felt the need to be so careful? Could it have something to do with the Drow? Or perhaps it had something to do with their visit to the Seelie Court? Maybe it pertained to the Sluagh King, Segwyn?

Saalyn allowed her thoughts to be preoccupied with her ponderings for a short while before she chided herself for wasting her own time. She would learn the truth soon enough since she would be meeting the Princess of Havoc for dinner this evening.

The rest of her day was fairly uneventful, and so the Niceven was grateful for a chance to leave her room—namely her desk and all its paperwork—even if it would be for just a few short hours. She dressed as she normally would: a white and black pinstripe blouse and a black knee-length skirt with a pair of sleek, black heeled boots that nearly met the skirt’s hem, which made her look as if she were attending a business meeting rather than dinner with a close acquaintance. When she arrived at the Jade Door with her escort, Saalyn bade the Garlanger to stay outside with a simple wave of her hand.

As she approached the table where her company waited, she offered Alecto one of her subtle smiles, though to anyone who knew the blonde woman, they would easily be able to read her pleasure at seeing the other woman again. “Princess Alecto, I cannot begin to express my relief in seeing that you are well,” Saalyn began, taking in the sight of her as the dark-haired woman stood to greet her. Her gray eyes lingered on Alecto’s stomach for a moment longer than necessary, how the black fabric of her dress seemed to hug her body a little tighter there. Odd, she thought, considering that this woman was a warrior of the utmost fit and finesse.

Her expression revealed little of her curiosity as she met Alecto’s gaze once more. “I feared for your safety during the attack at Imbolc, but it seems that the Fates have continued to smile upon you,” she continued as her smile faltered slightly, “You must forgive my lack of diligence in contacting you. It is no excuse, but the Court has been rather busy since that time.”

Pausing, Saalyn gestured for them to be seated, and did as much once Alecto had settled back into her chair. “I must say that your letter was a welcome change from the ones I have been receiving as of late,” the Niceven admitted rather candidly, “The people are worried, and rightfully so, but as much as I assure them that every precaution is being taken to ensure their safety, the letters never cease to arrive on my desk. Aside from placing fires and guardsmen at every entrance and exit to the caves, I know not else we could do less than raising an army of a magnitude no faerie has ever seen.”

Saalyn sighed, and sent the woman a small, apologetic smile. It was obvious that she was weary from her efforts, a fatigue that could be seen in the depths of her silver irises despite her best efforts to hide it. The Niceven gave a slight shake of her head as if to erase the complaints from her memory. “Forgive me, this is not what we came here for. You had news that you wished to discuss?”

[Alecto]

Despite the number of Sidhe present, it was impossible to miss Princess Saalyn as she entered the room. Perhaps it was the hush that fell over the crowd -- a moment of silent reverence for she who had healed them in their need -- or maybe it was the air of authority which surrounded the Restorative Fae since her promotion. Regardless, Alecto’s eyes lifted to her silhouette moments after it appeared in the doorway, and followed her as she approached the table, slowly warming as the effect of Saalyn’s presence outweighed her trepidation. The Fury was not immune to the woman’s influence, after all. She rose to take the woman’s hand, a rare smiling making a transformative appearance on her face. “Princess Saalyn, you are kind to worry for me.” A faint blush rose to her cheeks at her companion’s lingering look -- a strange effect, for a creature that had never felt self-conscious in the past -- but she otherwise had no reaction, and sat when it was suggested. Her smile remained, a mirror in subtlety, but of a different sort.

“You needn’t apologize, Princess. My duties have also been stretched since the attack,” she offered gently, before listening to the extended explanation. It was tempting to remain on the topic at hand, but her final remarks leant themselves well to her story, and so she would not waste them.

“How fitting that you should mention an army,” she began, looking vaguely abashed, “for my news concerns that thought -- though it would seem that my method of raising such a force would be too...time consuming.” A servant interrupted her to fill their glasses and arrange flatware. Alecto collected her thoughts. Would it be best to bare the news first, or better to set the scene? She took a sip of the proffered vintage: dark amber in color and almost too sweet. “Did you catch a glimpse of Kobaalt, during his little visit?” She asked, pursing her lips at the flavor. Her eyes flashed fire as she studied Saalyn’s reaction, wondering how many details she would have to fabricate in order to fully convince her. It wasn’t an impossible claim, to be frank; men such as that Goblin Blade would have no trouble finding bedmates, even after their deaths, and the Fury had a reputation for ends justifying the means...not to mention a past affection for the dark warrior, when they had served together years past. It was the Niceven’s personal sensibilities that were the trick, here.

Alecto hoped she knew her well enough to weave a convincing lie.

Sorry it's short...next one will be longer.

[Saalyn]

If Saalyn noticed the sudden change in atmosphere upon her arrival at the Jade Door, she did not show it. It had seemed that her actions during the aftermath of the attack on Imbolc had spread quickly amongst the Unseelie. Despite the fact that she had only done what was expected of her, the people had developed a silent respect for the Niceven, one that she felt deeply honored to have, although she continued to act as she normally would, revealing no personal acknowledgement of the change in her treatment. Even if some of her peers did not believe so, Saalyn was capable of exercising some form of humility despite her perceived conceitedness.

As she began conversing with the Denwyr, Saalyn could feel the eyes of her fellow patrons on their table. Was it really so rare for two members of the Court to meet in public like this? Perhaps it was, at least for a high-ranking advisor and warrior such as themselves, but it was their popularity that was likely more to blame than anything else. She might have played her part by healing in injured, but Saalyn had heard of Alecto’s exploits at Imbolc—of how the Fury had bravely fought against the onslaught of shadows that invaded the Festival. It seemed that they had both garnered a reputation since their last meeting, and although Saalyn could appreciate the attention she had gained to an extent, she wasn’t sure how the woman seated across from her felt about her sudden rush to fame amongst their people.

Regardless, Saalyn listened intently to the Denwyr after she had finished with her own ranting, taking note of how oddly uncomfortable the woman seemed to be acting as she spoke. It was unlike the Alecto that she had been around before…Had something changed within the woman since they were last around each other? Before the Niceven had a chance to inquire about the Fury’s choice wording—what was that about methods being too time consuming?—a server arrived with an elegant decanter in hand to fill their glasses with a fine, red wine and the moment had passed.

Alecto was quick to take advantage of the interruption to change topics. Although Saalyn was not blind to the shift, she made no effort to return to the previous subject, silently agreeing to play along considering that the Denwyr had gone out of her way to invite her here to speak. Whatever it was that the warrior woman wanted to talk about, she would discuss on her own timing and at her own pace. Saalyn would just have to be patient and relent the reigns of control in the conversation, as much as she hated to do so.

However, the mentioning of Kobaalt gave cause for the Niceven to blink in surprise as she felt the sudden need to take control of the discussion once more. She was silent for a moment, collecting what she knew of the man and trying to make Alecto’s possible connection to him, before she spoke.

“The only thing I caught of the Fae of Mastered Deception was his name whispered amongst the people,” Saalyn replied, casually swirling the wine in her glass before taking a sip. She hoped the action made her seem more at ease than she actually felt at the moment. There were too many questions she wanted to ask, but she needed to keep herself focused lest she make the Fury more nervous than she already appeared. This wasn't an interrogation, it was a friendly conversation between comrades, the Niceven earnestly reminded herself before continuing.

“How strange it is, that our kind can return to this world after parting from it, even under such supernatural circumstances. But why do you speak of Kobaalt? Did you have any meetings with the warrior?”

[Alecto]

Saalyn’s eyes were keen, her expression almost impassive. It was a mask, Alecto knew; it would have been more natural to be curious to the point of irritation under the circumstances, and the Fury felt sure that her acquaintance was stifling her real feelings here. Perhaps it would have been amusing to make the woman uncomfortable, if Alecto had not been so uncomfortable, herself. She set the glass down and leaned back in her chair, thoughtful.

“Strange in other worlds, perhaps, where death is more than an eternal trance. The Fate loves us too much to let our immortal bodies become the food of worms. Kobaalt was as fresh as he had been in life, with the exception of some severely rotted clothes.” She straightened her fork, traced the edge of the embroidered tablecloth, and continued, “I had the fortune to stumble upon him as he arrived, along with the Princess Lucia and a petulant human girl who does not bear mentioning. After the rest of our company had departed for the night, he and I spoke at length about times past and present. We served together in the war of the courts,” she explained, then laughed, “I should say, I served under his command, being of far less consequence. But it seems he recalled me well enough, after I refreshed his memory.”

The first course arrived, and Alecto fell silent long enough to nod to the waiter and glance blindly over the dish, then Saalyn’s face. Her smile faded, and she lowered her voice so as not to be overheard by the other patrons. “I will be frank with you, Princess. Our discussion turned to the subject of the Goblin Blades, and Annette. The Fae of Mastered Deception still seethes with hatred for the Shining Throng -- he was disgusted that their Queen is the only living member of his rank, and that the Darklings have no Goblin Blades of their own. I care little for the pissing contest, yet his words still resonated with me. We have many soldiers, and few warriors. With unknown threats lurking just outside our walls, the Unseelie have need of fae like Kobaalt.”

She folded her hands on the table and leaned forward, her expression turning conspiratorial, a whisper of a smile curling the corner of her mouth. “And so, I will present our King and our court with a gift: the Dark Warrior’s legacy.”

Her smile broke, white teeth gleaming in the candlelight. “I’m pleased to report that death had no measurable effect on Kobaalt’s...faculties.” She took a bite of the dish before her and chewed, crossing her arms over her chest, then leaned back with a look of self-satisfaction.

[Saalyn]

Saalyn blanched. It was quiet a rare sight for someone generally so stoic as the Darkling Niceven tended to be. Still, even as shocked as she was, the blonde Sidhe had enough sense to slowly lower the fork in her hand back down to her plate without so much as a clatter. She leaned forward, her voice low as to not be heard by the faerie seated around them.

“You are…with child? His child?” she questioned, certain she could not have heard correctly. Leaning back in her chair, Saalyn considered this news, as well as the woman who had delivered it, carefully.

She was silent for a long time as she watched the Fury with an even expression. Alecto was a proud fae, the Niceven was well aware of that, but something seemed strange about this behavior. Even if she did serve in the Court, the warrioress had openly sympathized with the Sluagh King upon their return home from the Seelie kingdom, a sign that she was perhaps not in full agreement with their own King. If this were true, why would Alecto be so enthralled about handing over her own child to serve the purpose of the Darkling Throng?

If that was not enough to raise suspicion, since when had the fiery-eyed soldier been so…infatuated with the pleasures of the body? Saalyn was well aware that giving in to such primal urges was natural from time to time, but this just seemed…odd, out of character for the strong Sidhe that she had initially met those many weeks ago. For all the Denwyr’s talk of being open, it seemed to Saalyn that there were still some details being hidden from view. But, if Alecto wanted to be frank, then the Niceven supposed that she should be equally as blunt, if not more so.

Saalyn’s eyes thinned ever so slightly as she began to speak, the plate of food sitting in front of her forgotten for the time being as she folded her hands in her lap. “I must be honest with you, Princess. You never once struck me as a woman who cared for rearing children. Nor the type to fall so easily into a fit of passion,” the Niceven started, her voice level. It wasn’t her intent to call the Fury a liar outright, but her words likely sounded of an accusation of being such. However, Saalyn’s near expressionless mask began to crack when the ghost frown appeared on her lips. It contrasted greatly with the flame of mirth that had simultaneously flickered to life in the depths of her silver irises. “Do no tell me that the Fae of Mastered Deception managed to deceive you into lying in his bed. I would be devastated to learn that your will is not as strong as I believed it to be.”

[Alecto]

If only her friend had been wholly forthcoming -- if only she had asked the Fury’s opinion of the Sluagh King tonight. Alecto had had ample time to stew in her anger towards him, by now, and such a stream of distrust would have emerged from her lips as to sweep Saalyn away in its current. But the woman kept most of her misgivings to herself, and so the darker fae was left only with her initial expression of doubt, at first. “You are...with child?”

Alecto laughed. It seemed a rare thing, to watch such a dangerous faerie turn pale. “I am,” she answered, “with child, not a ghost, dear Princess.” It was not long before the color edged back into those fair cheeks, however, and her expression turned colder. The Fury knew that look to be one of calculation. She had expected that Saalyn would be the most difficult faerie to persuade, and so was unsurprised by her chilly reaction -- in truth, she would have never been able to play this game if she had not already convinced herself, almost to perfect certainty, that her tale was true. Much better to believe your child a sprout from some hero’s seed, than the product of a hideous betrayal. Still, her smile tightened ever so slightly at the other woman’s scrutiny.

“I do not strike you as maternal?” She murmured softly, her dark voice smooth with venom, though her mouth curled into a smirk. Her chuckle broke the semblance of a challenge. “It will be my first child, though not for want of opportunity, Saalyn. Lust for death and lust for flesh are closely linked. I do not tend to mix them as our lord does, but a conquest of the body can be as satisfying as killing, at times. I would not call that a fit of passion; is it a fit to eat when you are hungry?” These things were true, though the Niceven seemed so full of doubt on the matter. Alecto was an animal, in most respects; a hell-hound, driven by instincts and inclined toward simple explanations. She would have taken Segwyn, if he had offered himself. She would take any number of fae as lovers, should they prove themselves her equals on the field of battle. Kobaalt was easily among them. “You presume that I am the horizontal sort, and seem to forget that the Prince’s bed is naught but dust, by now. It is my bed he climbed into, by my invitation. And by the grace of Fate, I will be called the mother of a Goblin Blade, in time.”

She took a few bites and chewed in silence, allowing Saalyn time to digest these words. Fire-bright eyes studied silver ones as she ate, sincerely wondering if her dining companion was so sexless as to find the notion of bedding a hero, just for the sake of crowing about it later, so unthinkable. Alecto doubted that Cel would need much more than a statement of his rank to dampen a stranger between the thighs, despite his reputation. In a warrior’s opinion (this warrior’s, at least), the title of Goblin Blade was far more enticing than King.

“Have you never wanted a faerie for his power, Princess? I admit that this is the first time conceiving strong children has entered into my reasoning, but even if I had not fallen pregnant, Kobaalt is a rare man. They will sing of his exploits forever. They will not sing of me.”

Except as a traitor, if this goes badly, or a kingmaker, if this goes well, she thought to herself, and swallowed wine.

[Saalyn]

Alecto spoke of not being like her King, but for Saalyn it seemed entirely the opposite. The Niceven was a fae borne with Restorative magic surging through her blood—she was an immortal, and combining her eternal nature with her innate magic, the blonde Sidhe had only ever known the feeling of life. Of fixing, not undoing. As such, she could not understand the satisfaction of killing that this woman spoke of, or that her King so thrilled himself with. In fact, the mere idea of comparing or combining such a ravenous deed with an act of passion made Saalyn feel quite appalled.

Just as she was not a creature of violence, Saalyn was also not a creature of intimacy. Alecto’s pondering of the woman being sexless was not all that far from the truth, though it wasn’t entirely accurate either. It wasn’t that the Niceven had no physical wants or desires, only that she was extremely particular when it came to choosing a partner. Where the Fury might be sufficed with one she considered her equal in combat, Saalyn could not be so easily swayed. She appreciated the mind over the body, and so when choosing a fellow Sidhe to take to her bed, they first had to be tested. Many times, in fact. Saalyn could not help it if most fell short of her admittedly high expectations.

These were the Niceven’s thoughts as they sat in silence. Alecto ate her meal with her fiery eyes locked with the blonde’s while the Darkling adviser’s own plate remained untouched as she continued to sit with her hands in her lap. She had hardly had an appetite since everything with the Sluagh and the Drow had begun. These troubles that the Fury was presenting her with now were only adding to that lingering feeling that continued to disrupt her natural desire for sustenance. If she was looking any thinner, no one had uttered a word to her about it.

“And if the child does not meet your expectations, what then?” Saalyn eventually asked. Her tone was even, almost robotic—lacking emotion. “Just because a faerie rises to greatness in life does not necessarily mean they were born with it and can thus pass it on to their offspring.”

Saalyn was a prime example of exactly that. Her parents had been but common faerie—Sidhe that cared for naught but cavorting with their fellow pure-bloods. Neither had strove for anything beyond a simple life, but their daughter had been different. Saalyn had not climbed the Unseelie ranks to obtain power. The safety a position such as hers could offer, perhaps, but not the ability to rule. Instead she had wanted to achieve something great in her life, not necessarily to be remembered, but for her own satisfaction. And she would do so by her own hands, not someone else’s, that she was certain of.

The Niceven gave a solemn shake of her head. Never before had she met a Sidhe that could both impress and disappoint her so, and her gaze said as much, Saalyn’s silver eyes relaying more emotion than they likely ever had since the two women had known each other. “It saddens me that you would think so little of yourself, Alecto. Seeking greatness through Kobaalt, an unborn child…” A pause, and the Courtier had folded her fine, cloth napkin and placed it back on the table. She stood from the table, her emotions once more in check. “It would seem that the respect that I held for you was misplaced, and it is this that causes me the most grief of all.”

Saalyn made to leave, but stopped beside the Fury’s chair. She did not look down at the woman as she spoke. “I will have the King relieve you of your duties,” she began before eventually adding, “considering your current condition. Take care, Princess.”

This time, the Niceven did not stop again, her unhurried steps taking her outside of the Jade Door and back into the warm caverns of the Court. If the Garlanger awaiting her outside was surprised by her sudden appearance, he did not express it in the least, only returning to her side in the same manner in which they had arrived.

As they began the walk back to her room, Saalyn pinched the bridge of her nose between thumb and forefinger when she was sure that no one was around to see the gesture. She had been tired before, but now she just felt downright weary. She could not shake the feeling that the Denwyr was not being completely honest with her despite the fact that Alecto had been the one so eager to inform her of the Fury’s impending motherhood. Could the Fae of Mastered Deception truly be the father of this unborn child? It seemed hard for her to believe that a renowned Goblin Blade would be so concerned about physical pleasures upon returning from the grave, but perhaps he had wanted to leave behind a legacy, and used the opportunity he was given to do exactly that. Maybe it was Saalyn’s own opinions that were tainting her perspective on the matter...Regardless, when she returned to her room, she would write a quick letter to King Cel in request of a meeting at his earliest convenience and then she would go to bed.

Yes, Saalyn though, that seemed like a fine idea indeed. There was much to discuss with the Darkling monarch, but she feared she did not have the energy for such conversation tonight.

((Sorry if Saalyn’s departure was abrupt…It just felt natural for her to leave for some reason. If you would like for them to talk more, feel free to have Lec follow Sa-Sa back to her room.))

[Alecto]

Fire eyes flickered as the Fury considered the question, her smirk broadening into an enigmatic smile. What then, indeed. Why, then the courts would perish at the hands of the Drow, or not. Then, the Seelie, Unseelie and Sluagh would make war upon each other and be destroyed, or not. Then, her son would live a normal life, though perhaps cut short by the merciless weapons of their enemies. Or maybe he would live. Alecto was under no impressions that her rapist was prophetic, much as she might believe the information he had gathered with his own senses. She would follow his plans as far as they suited her, as far as they protected both her and her child, and no further.

But she made no answer, besides her smile. The expression had a hint of predatory interest as her “friend” turned a condescending eye on her -- that habit that, more than anything else about Saalyn, made the Fury want nothing more than to cut her pretty face. To her jibe, she also made no response, nor to her threat of demotion. Her head inclined toward the departing figure, not turning to face her, but indicating that the woman was by no means ignored. As she walked from the room, Alecto called her parting words over a shoulder.

“They will not sing of you either, Niceven. They do not sing for second place.”

And then she was gone, and the Denwyr -- she was still a Denwyr -- was left to eat her meal in solitude. Her hand caressed the swell of her belly as she reached for the sickly-sweet wine, and downed it in one swallow. How many will I have to kill for you, my shadow spawn? she wondered, reclining backward in her chair. Her smile was gone, replaced by the icy mask that indicated boiling rage. Saalyn suspected her, though Alecto could not think how. The Sidhe delighted in creating life, and exalted in practicing for it, as well; those such as the Niceven, who scorned to take a lover out of some deluded sense of grandeur were the exception, not the rule. Alecto could only hope that Cel would find her suspicions groundless. If not, it appeared she would have to turn her King against his councilor...a challenging prospect, indeed.

But not an impossible one, if she played to this difference between them.

In time she rose from the table, energized where Saalyn had been weary, driven by the necessity to stamp out whatever spark of suspicion that woman intended to plant in her King. If only the Niceven knew how far Alecto was willing to go to protect her court...how many people she was willing to betray, if it meant the survival of her people. Would the gray-eyed Sidhe betray her King, if that was the only way to ensure the Unseelie’s safety? Would she undermine herself?

The Fury did not think so.