“The Unseelie King’s sons,” whispered Mark. They were crouched behind a tumble of boulders, peering around the edges, weapons in hand. “Some of them, anyway.” “Doesn’t he have any daughters?” Emma muttered. “He has no use for them,” said Mark. “They say he has girl children killed at birth.” Emma couldn’t prevent a flinch of anger. “Just let me get close to him,” she whispered. “I’ll show him what use girls are.”
