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Prologue

Through the mosses bare,

They have planted thorn-trees

For pleasure here and there

If any

As dig them up in spite,

He shall find their sharpest thorns

In his bed at night

—Williaham, "The Fairies"

Despite her casting him down to this place, despite the fresh bruises on his skin and the blood under his nails, Roiben still loved Lady Silarial Despite the hungry eyes of the Unseelie Court and the gruesome tasks its Queen Nicnevin set his he wouldn't let himself think on while he stood stiffly behind her throne

If he concentrated hard, he could rereen eyes, the strange siven him as she'd pronounced his fate just three ht Court and be a servant a the Unseelie was an honor, he told hih to remain loyal She trusted hih to endure

And he did love her still, he reminded himself

"Roiben," said the Unseelie Queen She had been eating her dinner off the back of a wood hob, his green hair long enough to serve as a tablecloth Now she looked up at Roiben with a dangerous sort of smile

"Yes, my Lady," he said automatically, neutrally He tried to hide how much he loathed her, not because it would displease her Rather, he thought it would please her too well

"The table trembles too much I am afraid my ill spill”