“After our kiss, I am such a fool over you that I can hardly contain myself,” I tell him with as much sarcasm as I can muster. “All I want to do is nice things that make you happy. Sure, I’ll make whatever bargain you want, so long as you kiss me again. Go ahead and run. I definitely won’t shoot you in the back.”
He blinks a few times. “Hearing you lie outright is a bit disconcerting.”
“Then let me tell you the truth. You’re not going to run because you’ve got nowhere to go.”
I head to the door, flip the lock, and look out. The Bomb is lying on a cot in the sleeping room. The Roach raises his eyebrows at me. The Ghost is passed out in a chair, but he shakes himself awake when we come in. I feel flushed all over and hope I don’t look it.
“You done interrogating the princeling?” the Roach asks.
I nod. “I think I know what I’ve got to do.”
The Ghost takes a long look at him. “So are we selling? Buying? Cleaning his guts off the ceiling?”
“I’m going to take a walk,” I say. “To get some air.”
The Roach sighs.
“I just need to put my thoughts in order,” I say. “And then I will explain everything.”
“Will you?” the Ghost wants to know, fixing me with a look. I wonder if he guesses how easily promises are coming to my lips. I am spending them like enchanted gold, doomed to turn back into dried leaves in tills all over town.
“I talked with Madoc, and he offered me whatever I wanted in exchange for Cardan. Gold, magic, glory, anything. The first part of this bargain is struck, and I haven’t even admitted I know where the lost prince might be.”
The Ghost’s lip curls at the mention of Madoc, but he’s silent.
“So what’s the holdup?” asks the Roach. “I like all those things.”
“I’m just working out the details,” I say. “And you need to tell me what you want. Exactly what you want—how much gold, what else. Write it down.”
The Roach grunts but doesn’t seem inclined to contradict me. He signals with one clawed hand for Cardan to return to the table. The prince staggers, pushing off the wall to get there. I make sure all the sharp things are where I left them, and then I head for the door. When I look back, I see Cardan’s hands are deftly splitting the deck of cards, but his glittering black eyes are on me.
I walk to the Lake of Masks and sit on one of the black rocks over the water. The setting sun has lit the sky on fire, set the tops of the trees ablaze.
For a long time, I just sit there, watching the waves lap at the shoreline. I take deep breaths waiting for my mind to settle, for my head to clear. Overhead, I hear the trilling of birds calling to one another as they roost for the night and see glowing lights kindle in hollow knotholes as sprites come awake.
Balekin cannot become the High King, not if there’s anything I can do about it. He loves cruelty and hates mortals. He would be a terrible ruler. For now, there are rules dictating our interactions with the human world—those rules could change. What if bargains were no longer needed to steal mortals away? What if anyone could be taken, at any time? It used to be like that; it still is in some places. The High King could make both worlds far worse than they are, could favor the Unseelie Courts, could sow discord and terror for a thousand years.
So, instead, what if I turn Cardan over to Madoc?
He would put Oak on the throne and then rule as a tyrannical and brutal regent. He would make war on the Courts that resisted swearing to the throne. He would raise Oak in enough bloodshed that he would turn into someone like Madoc, or perhaps someone more secretly cruel, like Dain. But he would be better than Balekin. And he would make a fair bargain with me and with the Court of Shadows, if only for my sake. And I—what would I do?