But he only said one word. “Why?”
Pritkin licked his lips, as if he’d just realized that yeah, that might not have been a normal response for a hardened slaver. “She’s . . . a virgin.”
The fey barked out a laugh. “I doubt it. But even so, our people don’t care about such things, merely that they’re good breeders. Where’s the harm?”
“I said no—”
“And I say yes. And since she’s just a slave—”
“She’s my slave.”
“Your slave.”
“Yes. I found her. I brought her in. By our laws—”
“They’re not your laws, mutt. Don’t pretend otherwise.”
“By your laws, then! That makes her mine. Taking her is theft—”
“You’ll quote the law to us?” the second fey said, sounding almost more incredulous than angry, although the knife hadn’t been sheathed. “I’ll teach you some—”
The first fey held up a hand again, but that was definitely suspicion on his face now. “All right,” he agreed. “Your slave.”
“You can’t be serious,” the other fey began while I felt the muscles in Pritkin’s back relax slightly.
And then tense right back up when the first guard spoke again. “You take her, then.”
Chapter Twenty-four
I could shift, I thought, as Pritkin stared at the fey. My power didn’t feel encouraging, but I didn’t have to move us far. Just outside, just far enough to run—
But even assuming I managed it, Gertie and company would be on us like a pack of bloodhounds, and I had him. I had him. I had Rosier. I had everything I needed. Except for the cursed soul, which could show up any moment.
Pritkin was arguing, telling the fey a bunch of stuff they didn’t care about, because they didn’t believe us. He hadn’t been any more convincing as a callous slave owner than I had as a cowed slave. We needed acting lessons, but we weren’t going to get them. We were going to get something a lot more painful or I was going to shift us out of here, and neither of those outcomes was acceptable.
I slowly went back to my knees.
Pritkin glanced at me, and then did a double take.
I guess he hadn’t expected that.
“With your permission?” I said unsteadily.
Pritkin didn’t say anything, but he looked more than a little off balance. The fey seemed surprised, too, like they’d already decided we were not as advertised, and were just waiting for him to give them the excuse for a different sort of entertainment. But it looked like they’d settle for this one.
The second fey let him go, although he stayed close this time, rather than propping up the wall. The first raised an eyebrow, but it appeared the jury was still out. Because he moved back a little and crossed his arms, instead of attacking or dragging us off somewhere.
I looked up at Pritkin again.
And immediately had a sinking feeling. Because he wasn’t on board with this. His hand was reflexively clenching and unclenching at his side, as if he was still planning to take on two of the queen’s guard single-handedly.
And that . . . wasn’t good. Even if he won, it wouldn’t get us past the wards, or help defeat the dozens of soldiers inside that could quickly be outside. That was the whole point of this—to get weapons to people who could channel the power of entire covens. They might be able to deal with the fey; we couldn’t.
So they had to let us in.
“With your permission?” I repeated, a little more forcefully, nails digging into his thigh.
He still didn’t say anything, but the answer was clearly no. Or, judging from his steadily darkening expression, hell no. And that didn’t make sense.