“I’d catch you,” he promises, holding his hand out.
In his palm is another bracelet, this one wrapped in rubies and pearls, which sparkle in the sun.
“Do I want to know where this came from?” I ask.
“Probably not,” he admits, before adding. “Nice of you to join us at last.”
He didn’t even look back, but somehow he’s picked up on Drystan approaching over the cacophony of splashing waves and shouting sailors.
“Where’s Jaromir?” Bree asks, eyes narrowing.
“Below deck with Bram, trying to convince the ship’s hawkmaster to send a bird to Elfhame with news of our progress in the Spring Court.” Drystan’s tone makes it clear he thinks their efforts are futile, but Kitarni breaks into a smile.
“Good. News of our success will lift their spirits and reassure them that we’re making good progress.”
My winter knight pinches the bridge of his nose. “Good progress? We spent over a week longer in Pavellen than we expected, and we only achieved Aiyana’s vow at great cost. Not to mention the news of Caed’s place in Rhoswyn’s Guard is now on its way to Siabetha.”
“We’ll make the time back,” I promise. “We’ll rush to the Summer Court, get Eero’s vow as quickly as possible, and then head to Illidwen.”
“You shouldn’t miss this chance to see your queendom,” Kitarni advises. “The Goddess has given us no signs that we’re doing anything wrong. She encourages your pilgrimage with every shrine you visit.”
So just because the Goddess lacks a sense of urgency means I should, too?
“Elfhame is a fortress,” she adds. “It has never fallen.”
“None of the great walls had until this year,” I retort.
“Either way,” Drystan says, eyes lingering on the bracelets on my wrist. “We will stick to the planned route unless we hear from Florian that things have taken a turn for the worse. What matters more is our plan to deal with Eero if he decides to follow Aiyana’s lead and demand concessions in exchange for his vow.”
“He has no grounds to,” Kitarni says. “Even if he holds the destruction of the Toxic Orchid against Rose, by law, she was within her rights to do all things necessary to retrieve her Guard. Unless any of you have any other long-forgotten family grudges against the king of summer I should know about?”
Drystan snorts. “Does thinking he’s a prick count?”
“I’ve never met him officially,” Lore grins. “But sometimes Cressidick would send me to leave presents for him while he slept.”
Kitarni groans, scrubbing a hand down her face. “Do not, under any circumstances, mention that to anyone.”
“Not even the time I filled his bed with corcrannach maggots?” Lore pouts. “But that was so much fun. It’s not like it hurt him. His magic meant they couldn’t even sink their teeth in.”
My skin crawls. Suddenly, I pity Eero. Any insect named for those terrifying trees must be something gruesome or fierce, let alone maggots.
“Absolutely not,” Kitarni says. “In fact, it may be best not to speak about your time serving Queen Cressida at all, even when we make it to the Autumn Court.”
“I won’t need to speak about it then,” Lore says. “Everyone knows who I am in Illidwen.”
“Because they’re all scared shitless at the whisper of your name,” Kitarni mumbles. “Now. Back to the topic of Eero. Our approach should be simple—be gracious yet firm. He’s a formidable warrior, for all his faults, and his gift will make him an invaluable ally on the battlefield. He has no reason to refuse to offer you his vows, and we will not give him one.”
“Except he might, if what Aiyana said is true,” I remind her.
“Mervyn could well be a spy for the summer king,” Kitarni admits. “But we may yet beat him to Siabetha. It is faster by sea than by land.”
“But we’re stopping multiple times a day.”
“For a worthy cause.” Goddess, Kitarni’s unflappable nature is usually a blessing, but it’s infuriating right now.
Unlike her, I can’t just use ‘Danu’s will’ to brush over or avoid complicated issues or emotions. Does that make my faith weaker? Or is my sense of self stronger?
“I hate this,” I mutter, slumping.
