For the sake of courtesy, Sadb had stepped out of her illusion, becoming more than a voice; she smiled at Thorin's affectionate, though ultimately pointless gesture. Such a thing for him to do, to court death and vengeance, and all for a child he had marked for death. The
Unseelie guests of recent have been too contaminated by mortal whims and desires, Sadb felt, and their demon heritage? That only compounded things.
Something cold and wet slithered in the air around Sadb when Amara overstepped her bounds; it was neither attack nor aggression, however: it was warning. In contrast to Pendaran's power, Sadb's was not the unmoving cold of winter, but that of night, of darkness absolute; she was the Mother of Spiders, of all the things that skittered and crawled. She was, in every way that mattered, a Queen, and she had little love for Pendaran’s minions.
"I will allow this, goblin," Sadb purred, "but leave my land at once or not at all.”
Sadb’s parlor was not a ‘post’ or ‘station’, and nor had she been charged with protecting it. It was a duty, but it was not one bestowed upon her; she had chosen it, herself. To suggest otherwise risked insulting the elder
fairy.
Dismissing Amara with a turn of her head, Sadb peered coldly at Thorin, “Leave,” she bid the Vuri-thing, “but know you are unwelcome here forevermore.”
Sadb slowly faded away and with her, so, too, did the force that kept Thorin anchored firmly to the
Unseelie. He was free to return to Ulster, but never again would he find refuge in the
Unseelie, invited or no.
_______
Pendaran
_______
The
Unseelie king flashed an angry glare to Caela and Igraine, his two remaining ‘guests.’ Kill Sebilla? No reasoning with him? Kahlan’s vengeance serving him right? No, no, and
no. These prattling, bleeding-mouthed . . .
“Enablers,” he laughed, cruel and sharp as a screech, “You’re
all insane. Not just your father . . . Lover, whatever he is to his children. Gods, but what is wrong with you?”
Pendaran’s knife-tipped ears twitched, and he smiled; he directed a lighter, less rage-filled glance over Cambria and then Amara. He would have to decide what to do with Caela and Sebilla later, but, right now, he had . . . another guest, and then there was the child, too.
“My,” Pendaran smiled, “how nice to see
another guest, I . . .
Oh, yes, yes, I like him already,” Pendaran paused briefly and looked over Amara more carefully, “and Sadb’s intervention was successful? Wonderful. Perhaps I’ll give her one of the Rivenfelde women, yes,” Pendaran nodded to himself, “she would like the company, I think.”
Pendaran’s threat was mostly just that, though, in complete honesty, he
should thoroughly enforce the idea that being rude and inhospitable guests was a very, very bad thing to do. Purposely--
knowingly--causing a demon to run rampant in his stronghold, full of so many
sidhe and
fae? Rude.
“Bring me the child, Amara--and who is the
princeling?”