Page 61 of The Unseelie Wish
The world around them seemed to grow even darker as they crossed the threshold into the portion of Tir n’Aill that most Unseelie never dared to tread. The starry sky seemed muted, the shine of the moon duller.
The trees were decidedly less inviting.
Alex clearly could feel it as she stepped closer to him, holding on to his arm just a little tighter. The look on her face reflected her sudden fear—her already pale skin growing a shade less pink. “I…fuck.”
“I can only imagine what it must sound like to you.”
“If we live through this, I’m going to show you a horror movie. You’ll get the gist.” She cringed, as if straining to hear something. “But there’s something—something else there.” She shut her eyes for a moment to focus on whatever it was. “I can hear another instrument. It’s like a pipe organ, but—fuller. Bigger.”
“That must be the center of the Maze.” A flicker of hope entered his heart, like a candle fighting through a stiff and sudden wind. Sputtering and desperately holding on.
“It’s quiet. It’s far away. But it’s—” She strained again, before pointing off to the left of the trail. “It’s that way.”
Cackling, he picked her up in a sudden hug and spun her around before putting her back down. They had a chance! They had a damnable chance! What they did not have, however, was much time.
Puck’s planned distraction could only last so long. Even the master trickster himself couldn’t keep Valroy’s focus forever.
They would have to hurry.
But they had a chance.
“Come—songbird.” He grinned down at Alex. “Let us go kill the King.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Valroy wondered idly if he had ever desired to smash Puck’s head in like a rotted pumpkin more than at that precise moment in time. The distraction of seeking the answer to his pointless musing was likely the only thing keeping the annoying little gnat alive.
Sitting upon his throne, his elbow on the silver arm, his head was propped up in the palm of his hand. He was both irate and exceedingly bored.
Despite the fact that he had an outrageously angry Bayodan shouting at him. Usually that would amuse Valroy to no end. But today, he was simply not in the mood. Especially seeing as Bayodan was currently missing an eyebrow—the half-breed having shorn it off while the Unseelie Lord slept.
“Look,” Puck argued in his defense, “I was watching this TV show, right? Some spaceship drama, I dunno. But there was this lady with no eyebrows, and I thought to myself—hey, I bet that’d look great on Bayodan. But there was no way he was going to believe me, right?” Puck waved his hands about frantically. “So all I did was try to prove it to him!”
“By shaving my eyebrow off in the middle of the day while I slept!” Bayodan snarled. “I will have to wear a glamor until it regrows!”
“I think you should just lean in, buddy—shave ’em both off. You never know, you might love it!” Puck grinned. “You should be thanking me.”
Bayodan was clearly unconvinced. “I should be breaking every bone in your body?—”
“Enough.” Valroy shut his eyes. He hated this part of his position—settling disputes. They were always so infantile. Some Lord took the prized jewel of some Lady’s collection. Some underling built a home in someone else’s territory. Someone murdered someone else. It was all so trite—so boring—so small.
Such was the price he paid for taking his rightful place upon the throne.
Though no one was quite so well equipped to annoy him than the half-breed. The only reason the bastard was still breathing could be summed up with one simple word. Abigail. His beloved wife was fond of the half-Seelie, half-Unseelie abomination. He could not understand why. But such was the way of things.
Nor was there any point in asking Robin Goodfellow precisely how he thought shaving off Bayodan’s eyebrow would be well-received by the dignified Lord. A useless endeavor and a waste of time.
Punishment had to be wrought, though it was like scolding the sun for rising. Another useless endeavor and a further waste of his time.
“Tell me what you would have from him in payment, Lord Bayodan. And remember he is the favorite of our Queen.” Valroy rubbed his temple, seeking to soothe the ache he always wound up having whenever Puck was involved.
Bayodan let out a low, animalistic growl. He eyed the half-breed with narrowed goat’s eyes the color of spilled blood. His jaw twitched as he internally debated his options, knowing full well that any issuance of physical harm to the irritating fae would be met with displeasure from the woman to which Bayodan held close loyalty and friendship.
Then, a small twist to the Lord’s lips. “I would have him shaved bald. Including both his eyebrows.”
“But! That’s not fair!” Puck whined. “I only shaved off one of yours—and I didn’t even touch your hair.”
“Perhaps losing more will encourage you not to do it again.” Valroy sighed. “And you will simply hide it beneath a glamor, same as Bayodan.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Done. Now begone, Goodfellow. Return to your Queen.”