Page 62 of The Unseelie Wish

Puck folded his arms across his chest. “No. I want to argue about this for a while longer. This isn’t right.”

“Why?” Valroy arched an eyebrow. “From my point of view, you made off lightly for such an insult. I would have allowed him to break all your fingers one by one.”

“Well—well, that’s also silly and uncalled for!” The half-breed grimaced. “It’s just an eyebrow. It’ll grow back. Probably fast, too, given how hairy this guy is.” He pointed at Bayodan with a thumb. “Speaking of—” He looked up at Bayodan. “How do you groom yourself, anyway? Do you have to use pet shampoo? How much do you shed? I haven’t really ever thought about it before. I bet you’d get a great discount at a pet salo—gah!”

It was clear Bayodan had suffered enough. He grabbed Puck by the front of his linen shirt and shook him hard. “I should have your hide, Goodfellow. I could make quite the pelt from your flesh. Perhaps I shall upholster a new chair in the leather I make from it.”

“As amusing as that would be,” Valroy said through an exasperated exhale, “no.”

Clearly displeased, Bayodan shoved Puck away from him. The half-breed staggered a few steps before catching himself and brushing off his shirt. “The nerve, really. I was trying to be nice!”

Bayodan’s fingers on his one remaining hand twitched with the obvious need to cause violence. “Begone, Goodfellow. I will come for my payment as soon as my temper has cooled, lest I take your scalp with the hair.”

“Fine. Whatever. Crybaby.” Puck disappeared in a blink.

Bayodan shook his head and let out a long, heavy sigh.

Valroy completely understood the feeling. “If there is nothing else, Lord Bayodan, you are dismissed.”

“There is something else I would like to discuss with you, should you allow it, my King.” Bayodan turned to face him. With a flick of his wrist, a glamor shimmered over his form, and his missing eyebrow was restored through the illusion.

It was not, despite Goodfellow’s insistence, a good look for the Lord.

“Very well. The longer you speak, the less time anyone will have to further annoy me.” He cracked his neck to the left and the right, popping the joints of his spine and relieving the tension there. “What do you wish to discuss?”

“The human witch.”

“Ah. Of course. I should have known.” He smirked. “You and your love for mortal witches. How many of them have now signed your black book?”

“It has been quite some time since I have added anyone to its list.” Bayodan smiled. “Though I will not deny I have been tempted as of late. Though the treaty stands in the way, I fear.”

The goatlike Lord had always been fond of entrancing mortal witches, luring them into signing away their souls to him, believing they were speaking to some fallen Christian god—and promising them great power in exchange.

“It is the treaty I wish to use this witch to destroy. Perhaps soon, you will be able to seduce mortals as you once did.” Valroy could not help but grin at the notion. It would be glorious to be freed from the shackles that bound him and all his people from their true natures. “However, it is your love for another former mortal witch that has put us in this predicament in the first place.”

“Yes. And while I entreat Abigail to loosen the bonds of the contract regularly, I have made no progress. But it is not our Queen I wish to speak about.”

“Your bleeding heart will be the death of me.” Valroy rolled his eyes. “I am certain you are about to beg me to take mercy on the girl and the snake.”

Bayodan looked off thoughtfully for a moment before speaking. “I wish to remark upon the fact that their story mirrors your own. And perhaps that is worth some consideration.”

“It mirrors my own perhaps upon the surface alone, but in all other matters, it bears no resemblance. I am royalty—I was destined for the crown. The Duke of Bones has his title and is destined for nothing but to be a cog in my greater machine.”

“Yet both women, Abigail and Alex alike, stand between you and what you desire. The losses of the debacle between you and your Queen were great.” Bayodan placed his hand on his opposite shoulder where his arm once was. “I loathe to see them repeated.”

“Indeed. What a shame it would be to have you running about with no arms to account for.” Valroy chuckled.

“That was hardly my intention. Nor my argument.”

“I know.” Valroy shrugged. “You wish me to rethink my desire to break the treaty.”

“I do not share your bloodlust.”

“Unfortunately.” Valroy pushed up from the throne to walk down the stairs that led to the dais upon which the piece of silvered furniture sat. Walking to the ruined wall that looked out upon Tir n’Aill, he clasped his hands behind his back as he pondered. “We are neutered as we are. The treaty must end.”

“Perhaps. Perhaps it should be rewritten.”

“Your desire to protect the Seelie and the humans is noble but pointless. Both worlds are mine by right, same as the crown I wear. I will not stop until I have been given that which is due to me.”