Ironside
“If any man so daring As dig them up in spite, He shall find their sharpest thorns In his bed at night.
—WILLIAM ALLINGHAM, “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 him. Despite the many ways he’d been humiliated and the things he wouldn’t let himself think on while he stood stiffly behind her throne.
If he concentrated hard, he could remember the flame of his Queen’s copper hair, her unreadable green eyes, the strange smile she’d given him as she’d pronounced his fate just three months past. Choosing him to leave her Bright Court and be a servant among the Unseelie was an honor, he told himself once more. He alone loved her enough to remain loyal. She trusted him above her other subjects. Only his love was true enough to endure.
And he did love her still, he reminded himself.
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