“I know you do.” She rubs my shoulder again. “You’re very unlike your mother in this regard—in a good way. The Fourth Nicnevin was raised to respect the traditions of the fae and often preferred to wait for visions and advice to make decisions. You have more drive than she did.”
“Perhaps if I was more like her, I wouldn’t be so frustrated.”
“If you were like her, you would be dead.” Drystan doesn’t blunt his words. “Diana was an excellent ruler, but she never had to endure half of what you have. She was a diplomat, and a pampered one. She suffered less than a handful of deaths in thousands of years of life.”
Whereas, at the rate I’m going, I’ll have doubled that number by the time I reach twenty-six.
* * *
Five days later,I’m back on deck feeling much better when a loud shout goes up from the rigging above us.
“Summer ahead!”
I look at Bree in question, and he smiles. “You’ll see.”
Frustrated by his answer, I look out over the water, only to gasp.
In the middle of the ocean, there’s a rift. Two different waters clash, swirling against one another in a meeting of eddies that sets electric blue against slate grey, with white foamy crests between.
“It’s the border between spring and summer,” Jaro says, approaching from behind, with Bram at his heels.
My shifter looks grim as he takes his place behind me. Ever since we left Pavellen, he’s lost his habit of touching me whenever we’re close, and I try to shrug my disappointment off and focus on the amazing meeting of oceans instead.
“It’s actually a result of the high-sediment waters of the Findwellyn meeting the ocean.” Bram ducks his head when we all turn to look at him. “Sorry. I just… the scholarly studies arefascinating.”
Offering him a small smile, I turn back to the strange ocean border, only to realise we’re already crossing it. The ship pierces the clashing waves, sailing over the top. It’s easy to track our progress, because the difference in sunniness is like a blade of light bisecting the ship in two. As soon as the line passes me, cloying humidity bursts over my skin, and the heat increases fivefold.
Incredible.
“Welcome back to the Summer Court,” Bree murmurs, but he doesn’t seem happy about it.
I want to apologise for making him come back here, to the place where he was held captive for so long, but the words die on my tongue as he turns and points at something to our right.
“There’s the first summer shrine, up on the cliff. Do you see it?”
I follow his finger, gawping at the sight of the perilous staircase set into the chalky white stone stacks. A set of small rickety bridges spans the gaps between the headland and the two tall stacks that rise out of the water. Atop the farthest stack from the shore, a bent and rickety pine weathers the strong winds against impossible odds, its bare roots clinging to the scarce soil remaining.
“I’ll fly you to it,” Bree murmurs. “I don’t trust any of those bridges.”
Lore could just as easily have blinked me, but I fix the redcap with a look when he would’ve suggested it. Drystan shakes his head but says nothing, and Jaro offers a small smile of support.
This—flying together—is important to Bree. I’m pretty sure he’s using it as an excuse to touch me. He’s pushing himself.
I’m not sure if it’s a wise idea, but I’m also going to support him in any way I can.
I want him just as fiercely as I want the others. I selfishly want to wipe away the touch of every one of the fae who used him and replace it with my own. The moment he left at the beginning of the fever is imprinted on my mind, and I don’t think I’ll be able to stand it a second time.
So when my púca opens his arms, I don’t hesitate. Pressing my palms against his exposed chest sends a buzz running through me, but I pretend not to notice as his wings—already out like he planned this—swoop powerfully up and down to propel us up into the sky.
Pressed against him like this, it’s all too easy to imagine lifting my head and placing a kiss to his jaw, claiming casual intimacies.
“I can’t wait until I can fly, too,” I whisper, trying to distract myself from the urge.
“You will.” Bree sounds so confident. “It took me years to learn, but your muscles have recovered well. You’re already nearly hovering.”
My fingers absently pet the smooth lines of ink across his chest as a small burst of excitement fills my chest at the thought of taking off by myself.
So far, my toes have left the ground for seconds at a time, but it’s progress.
