“Hmm. I might echo that sentiment.”
“By the way, I thought you said that nobody controls the sky except itself. You’re merely a symbol of The Trapping.”
“Dear me,” he goads. “You were listening.”
That deserves a scoff. Instead, I watch the creatures trot and flutter across the grounds, their presence animating the scenery with smatterings of color and foreign yet distinguishable sounds. Finding myself in a Fae haven for animals, a refuge both heartbreaking, comforting, and mesmerizing, restores my impulsive side.
“When I was a tyke, I’d stare out my window at this mountain, wondering what the animals were like,” I say. “Now here I am, getting my answer.”
“I’d advise you not to pursue them,” Cerulean replies. “As I said, these dwellers have healed physically, but they remained guarded. I’d imagine they’re especially aggressive toward humans.”
The protectiveness in his tone brings me up short. I hadn’t realized I’d been padding toward the rear park. Out of respect, I stall in my tracks and regard him.
Gotta hand it to this Fae, he cares about these wild dwellers. I like that.
“If you brand yourself as purely a symbol of history rather than a leader or savior, what does it mean to rule the sky then?” I ask.
“It means to honor the firmament,” he says. “It means to act as its emissary, its keeper, its voice.”
“In other words, to rule the sky is to serve the sky.”
“So to speak. I maintain harmony between the mountain Fae. I listen to and settle their squabbles and vendettas. I make sure they’re respecting this environment and interacting peacefully. I follow where the wind points me, toward whichever part of this landscape needs nourishment and nurturing, whichever landmarks require refurbishment, and I delegate the Solitaries to help preserve or guard those corners.
“And my last, but not least, reigning act? I serve the mountain’s fauna and—” Cerulean swings a hand toward the tower and its wildlife park—“provide a home to the ones who need it. What else would you like to know? I have a plethora of answers, and only a few of them are riddles.”
I’d been intrigued until he ruined it with that last remark. I tilt my head, giving it some thought. “Huh. You forgot something. Did the heavens tell you to beguile humans and force them to die reaching the mountaintop? Or was running this maze your brilliant idea?”
Annoyed, he slants his gaze toward mine. “Neither answer will make you giddy. But if you insist, it’s a bit more complicated than that.”
“Bullshit. The wordcomplicateddoesn’t excuse you from being a prat.”
“The wordbullshitdoesn’t earn you a reason.”
“Nah, but I sure do like the sound of it on my tongue.”
“In that case.” He prowls toward me. “What other words can you balance on that tongue? What other sounds do you favor?”
I strut his way, meet him across the divide, and bat my eyelashes. “Baby, you wouldn’t recognize those sounds if they tickled your linens.”
Cerulean dips his head and whispers, “But where will the sounds tickle you?”
I know exactly where, because it’s happening right now, his question running down the back of my neck. I could kick myself for this. Better yet, I could cudgel him.
I thought as much at the throne summit: With every heinous act, the less enticing he’s become, his visage curdling my stomach. Evil isn’t attractive, it’s hideous.
Clincher is, that hasn’t changed his voice—or its effect.
“What am I doing here?” I demand.
“At the moment, you’re standing in my way,” he remarks. “Once you move, you’ll be shown to your room.”
“Say that again?”
“Did I not mention it, pet? You’re stuck here for a spell. Such a pity, and it’s all your doing,” he sighs. “Wind has a natural tendency to stress itself out at unfortunate altitudes, as was the case for The Mistral Ropes. To think if you hadn’t succumbed to the upheaval, we would be pleasantly separated. And here, I was hoping for some quiet time. How very inconvenient you’ve become.”
Agitation jumps off my lips. “You’ll have to be more specific because this isn’t part of the deal. I’ve got a mountain to conquer.”
“Such enthusiasm.” Without raising his voice, Cerulean says, “Moth.”
