The Queen of Nothing (The Folk of the Air, #3)

by Holly Black

“Well,” he says, patting the couch beside him. “Didn’t you get my letters?” “What?” I am confused enough that the word comes out like a croak. “You never replied to a one,” he goes on. “I began to wonder if you’d misplaced your ambition in the mortal world.” This must be a test. This must be a trap. “Your Majesty,” I say stiffly. “I thought you brought me here to assure yourself I had neither charm nor amulet.” A single eyebrow rises, and his smile deepens. “I will if you like. Shall I command you to remove your clothes? I don’t mind.” “What are you doing?” I say finally, desperately. “What are you playing at?” He’s looking at me as though somehow I am the one who’s behaving strangely. “Jude, you can’t really think I don’t know it’s you. I knew you from the moment you walked into the brugh.”