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“He’ll like me,” she said, hoping that the charm of speaking words aloud would make those words come true.
Spike had warned her. Why did she never listen? Why had she never met a bad idea she didn’t like?
“More, I think. Crippled things are always more beautiful. It’s the flaw that brings out beauty.”
She wanted to control him.
“Rath Roiben Rye.” Her voice was soft, the words running together in her panic. She realized what she was doing, and her throat almost closed up. “Cut my bonds.” Roiben drew his finger-slim sword, and the Unseelie Court seethed with noise. A moment of hesitation, and then he smiled. It was a dark, horrible smile, the most terrible expression she had ever seen.
“One day, someone is going to cut that clever tongue of yours right out of your head,” he said.
It was evening already, and soon he would be gone. She wanted him, wanted him to want her more than she had any right or reason to expect from him, and that knowledge was as bitter as the day-old coffee.
“Then I would point out that sometimes, if you look at something out of the corner of your eye, you can see right through glamour,” she returned.
Kaye bit her own lip, hard. The pain helped her accept that he was not hers, would never be hers. And if it was much too late to pretend that didn’t hurt, she could at least shove it down so deeply inside her that he would never know.
“That was the kiss I stole from you when you were enchanted,” he said patiently.
“I am your servant,” the King of the Unseelie Court said, his lips a moment from her own. “Consider it done.”
