“I missed you, too,” I whisper, throwing my arms around the huge barghest—because he’s gotten even bigger in the days I’ve lost to fever—and burying my face in his fur.
“Nicnevin Rhoswyn, may I introduce Prince Madoc of Elfhame,” Bram announces quietly, but with a huge grin on his face as he sweeps to one side. “And his daughter, Lady Khloe.”
My second eldest brother is just as tall as Florian and built like a bear. His russet braids are ornamented with golden clips embedded with runes, and he’s passed the colour down to his daughter, who peeks shyly out from beneath her bangs as they both drop into deep bows.
“Nice to meet you,” I murmur. “Florian told me a lot about you.”
Unlike Bram, Dare, and Roark—who were described as the main troublemakers; although, in Bram’s case, that was mostly accidental—Madoc is a steady presence.
Although I find that hard to believe when the first words out of his mouth are: “I believe the trial of restitution will provide the perfect distraction to break the Fomorian out of the dungeon.”
“What?”
“As much as it pains me to admit it,” Drystan grumbles. “Caed is too much of a liability to leave him lying around for our enemies to use against us. If he’s wounded and draws from you…”
“Even if we don’t manage to break him out, I’ll bargain with Aiyana to ensure your whole Guard is permitted to leave without being hunted,” Jaro adds. “It’ll be more public than we’d like, but we can’t leave him there to spill everything he knows to Aiyana.”
I heave an impatient little sigh. Of course, it would be too much to ask for Caed to just stay peacefully in exile without causing any trouble. Now we have to rescue him, too? Irritation makes my wings flick against my back, and Jaro strokes a careful hand down my spine.
Without fever to lower my inhibitions, the action makes me bristle, but I take a deep breath of his scent and force myself to relax and accept the touch, breathing in his scent to steady myself.
Now that I know just how amazing having my wings played with can be, I refuse to let Elatha steal that joy from me. It will take work, but I’m prepared for that.
“Caed’s been under torture for days, and he hasn’t admitted to anything or drained her.” The knight shocks me by striding forward, a look of frustration on her face. “My cousin might be a fuckup, but he knows exactly what will happen if he uses the bond to steal her energy.”
That’s when it hits me. Her dark hair and rich brown skin are nothing like her usual look, but the grey eyes and effortless confidence is definitely Prae. Perhaps what threw me the most is that her glamour hides her bad eye entirely. I wonder if she’s thought any further about my offer to heal it for her.
Is she saying that Caed’s deliberately refusing to draw from me because of that time I took his wounds after he took those lashes for protecting me? Something deep in my gut twists uncomfortably.
Prae continues, “He wouldn’t even be in the dungeon if it wasn’t for—”
Bree steps in front of me, wings flaring with aggression. “I’ve accepted the blame for this. On my honour, I shall see him freed and returned to exile as our mate wishes, but if you get much louder, everyone in the city will know who’s in that dungeon.”
Prae’s grimace turns into an angry snarl. “Oh yes, I forgot. He’s supposed to be her dirty little secret.”
“I didn’t exactly see him loudly proclaiming me as his mate while he was parading me around Fellgotha for his father,” I snap, then force the anger down.
I can feel Danu’s matching ire right there waiting. She’s not happy about the news of one of her males being imprisoned, and the last time that happened, I blew up a building.
“I understand your anger and your worry.” If I’m honest, I’m concerned, too. “But he won’t be stuck down there much longer.” I turn to Kitarni. “Danu will take it into her own hands if we don’t get him out of there soon enough.”
The dryad’s nod is grim and accepting. “That’s a good thing. You need to be confident going into this first meeting, use Danu’s strength. Let the Goddess’s presence remind you thatyouare the high queen. Aiyana is no different from any other subject.” She smooths down her robes and stands. “The boat is ready for you. Your guides won’t be of any help in that throne room.”
Because Aiyana’s magic is the gift of negation. She can literally cancel out all other magic in her vicinity, much in the same way iron does. From what Kitarni and Florian told me before we left Elfhame, my mother was strong enough to cancel out that gift, but it took connecting to Danu—something which isn’t a good idea while the Goddess is so riled.
“Good. She relies on them too much as it is.” Drystan stands, offering me a hand up. “Danu sent us Nicnevin Rhoswyn, not a mouthpiece for dead spirits.”
“And if I mess up?” I reply. “What then?”
“Then we kill them all!” Lore cartwheels past, his hat having taken up the form of a pot helm, which makes his exuberant words echo louder than they need to.
I look to Jaro for a better option, but he just shrugs, as if to agree with the insane unseelie.
Yes, because the threat of slaughter makes me calmer about the entire situation.
“Your guides won’t be there,” Kitarni repeats. “But Bricriu will be.”
Bree stiffens. “It’s been centuries since I was at court.”
