Page 87 of Let Slip the Dogs of War

“It is a fine line. But no. It is not sensing another fae’s power. The crowns speak to me in their own way. They told me that you both would be fine. The best choice, perhaps. I do not understand…”

Neither do I. If Veles can truly tell who can or cannot wear the crowns, then why am I being drained so heavily?

“What are they telling you now?” I ask.

His power flickers out, strong like the roots of that oak out there. “Nothing,” he says finally. “They are silent.”

Likely due to the bond; they have their bearers, after all. I rest my chin on my hand. “We need a smooth transition of power.”

“Lark,” Oisin begins, but I shake my head.

“I would say it best to let Aodhan wear a crown and have it drain him, but that will inspire no confidence amongst the other fae. Are there any Seelie who might be strong enough?”

Oisin nods slowly. “A few.”

“There was one,” Veles says with a faint snort, “but he is an impossibility now. I will have to journey out among them. I have not met enough Seelie to be sure, but I know there is no one in the court who can take your place.”

“And for that matter,” I say, “why would Aodhan drag me back here? Given that if I did take the crown, I would not ask him to rule with me. He brought you to the court.”

“Yes,” Oisin replies.

“So why kidnap anyone? Bringing me here gave him even less chance to wear a crown.”

Veles shakes his head. “I cannot pretend to understand your uncle. He brought Oisin to the court not long after you left. Your mother… She thought his theory that having a Seelie in our midst, to quell any potential uprisings, might be prudent.”

“But she never said he would take a crown alongside her?”

“She refused,” Veles says. “Though I doubt a bond would have taken. We all knew.”

“That she was fading?”

He nods. We sit in contemplative silence for a few moments, and I wonder how I can broach the one topic I know will be the most difficult. The witch. How can I ask him if she has been manipulating us? How would he possibly know?

“Who ruled before my parents?” I ask instead, and Veles sits up a little straighter.

“I… what?”

“Who?” I tip my head to one side and study him closely. “You would have been alive then. You would know. Doubtless you were close to them, if not on their court. Who were they?”

“I-I…” Veles presses one hand against his thigh, the muscles rigid. “I do not know.”

“How can you not?” Oisin exclaims. “How can—”

“No one does,” I say. “I did not think about it, not until Dante asked, but I believe there is only one fae among us who will be able to answer that question.”

“The witch?”

Veles pales. “You cannot go to her with accusations, Lark, not even wearing the crown. She will—”

“Kill me?” I ask dryly and wave in the direction of the crown, still in the bedroom. “That is making work enough of that. What can she do that is worse?”

“A great many things, I fear.”

Some of that fear prickles the back of my neck, but I remind myself that Dante is safe. Undoubtedly home and enfolded in his pack again. They are too canny to allow him back here, despite his protests.

“What do we do now?” Oisin demands of Veles. “How can we save him?”

“There is…” Veles clears his throat. “There is no breaking the bond between the crowns. Even the witch cannot do that. You are tied into the magic of our realm now, and in the end, it will take you.”