“Leave?” Drystan demands, suspicion layering his tone.
“The Hellebore Knights are headed for Elfhame.” Neila retreats back to her own waiting horse. “We shall help Knight Commander Florian retake the city, or enter the Otherworld with our honour intact, knowing we did as Danu would have wanted.” Her eyes soften as she glances behind her to the glimmering city beyond. “Perhaps, if we survive, our queen will allow our return.”
A pang of sympathy radiates through me, and I open my mouth to say something, but the words won’t come.
“Florian will welcome the extra spears,” Jaro says, the wolf slowly disappearing from his eyes.
She swings up into her saddle. “We plan to take the passageway from Orvendel to the heart of the palace and help your knights until you return with reinforcements. I know that Danu will likely seek to punish our court for our queen’s disloyalty, but perhaps, in this, we will earn her some leniency.”
“You still love her,” I realise.
Neila inclines her head slowly. “She is my queen.”
It’s difficult to get my head around her motivations, but I understand the sacrifice she’s making. She didn’t have to protest. She could’ve taken the easy path, followed Aiyana’s orders, and stayed in the relative safety of the southern courts. Instead, she chose to warn me, then go into battle in the hopes of some divine redemption for herself and the female she loves.
Is this what being Nicnevin is like? Watching people willingly face down death for you? I can’t even thank her without owing her a debt.
Which I already do.
I take a deep breath, knowing that Drystan will likely kill me for this later, but equally certain that it’s the right thing to do.
“Thank you.”
Every single fae stiffens, and Neila’s eyes widen for a second before she drops into a lower bow.
“Lorcan.” Drystan bites out the name.
I don’t have to look at him to know he’s glaring daggers at the back of my head. For a second, I question whether he’s warning the redcap against doing anything rash or ordering him to take Neila’s head.
The redcap’s glamour disappears, revealing him crouched on the back of Neila’s horse, his head canted to one side. Well, that answers my question.
“There’s no debt if the one who could claim it is dead.”
“The Nicnevin”—Oh shit, Drystan is back to calling me ‘Nicnevin’ again?—“has made her decision clear.”
Lore blinks back beside Blizzard, holding out one of Neila’s bangles in his hand. “Just say the word, pet, and I’ll make sure you have the full set.”
It doesn’t seem possible, but Drystan’s posture turns to stone as Lore drops the glittering band in my hand and blinks back onto Wraith’s back.
“Redcap.” So much warning in that one word. All over a bracelet?
“Don’t make me say the little word that begins with du—” Lore cuts off, pressing two fingers to his grin. “Oopsie! I almost said it!”
“We need to get to the city,” Jaro cuts off their argument.
“Danu bless the Nicnevin.” Neila spurs her horse, getting out of our way.
Good thing, too, because Drystan seems to have made it his mission to get us out of there as quickly as he can, nudging Blizzard forward before I can even wish Neila and her warriors luck.
“Do you haveanyidea what you’ve just done?” he growls the instant the other riders are out of earshot. “Have you gone mad? That is Aiyana’s lover, and you just gave her an open-ended favour.”
“She betrayed her queen for me,” I argue. “And she seemed honourable—”
“Fae change!” Drystan growls. “In four hundred years’ time, that female could be a tyrant who murders Aiyana for her throne, and then demands yours, and because you did theonethingwe told you never to do, you’ll be forced to hand it over! Even if she doesn’t, what happens if she’s ever tricked into giving up her true name, and her new owner decides to command her to use that vow against you? Did you consider that at all?”
“Drystan,” Jaro cautions. “She’s young.”
“Then she should listen to those who know better.” Drystan kicks Blizzard into a canter as I curl into myself.
