“What?” My own morbid curiosity demands that I know.
Because I don’t care. Not one bit. Caed stood there and watched as his father played with my wings. A few nights in a seelie dungeon is nothing. He probably considers it pampered, given what I’ve seen of Fellgotha.
If he was hurt, I’d know. He’d have drawn from me using the bond.
“They have no plans to move him before the trial of restitution,” Bree says. “He should be left alive until Aiyana’s people have prepared whatever it is they have planned.”
“You didn’t catch any news?”
Bree shakes his head. “I don’t think she’s announced it yet. It’s almost like she’s stalling.”
Stalling for what purpose, though?
“Is this another power play?” I ask aloud. “Just another way of trying to show that she’s in control?”
“It could be.” Kitarni perches on the edge of the bed, a few stray petals drifting from her head to tickle my arms. “Or it could be a way for her to interrogate Caed. Whatever her reasons, it’s not good for us.”
“Every second we waste here is another second that the Fomorians can spend battering down the palace wall,” I grumble. “She’s letting people die while she forces us to wait.”
“I still don’t see why the redcap can’t just blink into Caed’s cell and break him out,” Prae growls. “He’s suffering down there while you play your stupid political fae games.”
“The second we do that without Aiyana’s vow of allegiance in place, she’ll tell the entire court who he is.” Kitarni waves the Fomorian’s anger away with a long bark-covered hand. “We have to break him out while Jaromir faces the trial, and Aiyanacannotknow he’s gone until after she’s sworn her vow to Rose.”
Prae is still seething, obviously about to argue further, so I quickly change the subject. “What exactly does the vow entail?”
“It is simple, really, though the language is old.” Kitarni shrugs. “She swears to never act in a way that will harm you, or to stand by and allow harm to befall you, on the condition that you permit her to rule the Spring Court in accordance with the terms of the treaty.”
Prae snarls under her breath. “And how will that help Caed?”
“Caed is you,” Mab murmurs, hesitant. “Even if he is exiled. Wounding him harms you, and a mated couple—especially a Nicnevin and her Guard—is perceived as one entity in fae law.”
At the same time, Kitarni says, “Exposing his part in your Guard would damage Rose’s image. It still counts as ‘harm’ to the terms of the vow.”
“It’s not foolproof,” Titania grumbles, running a finger under her colourful headband. “They can still keep secrets from you and spread information if they perceive it as benign, but it was the best I could get my brothers to agree to at the time.”
“That is why the vows are so important,” Kitarni says. “Until they are sworn, you and your Guard are fair game to the royals. Only the fear of another civil war and the people’s disapproval keep them from banding together to overthrow you, causing a second War of Seasons.”
“I figured it was better to let them have some modicum of control.” Titania waves her arm in the air in exasperation. “They weren’t exactly fond of the idea of recognising me as Nicnevin. Appeasing their pride was the only way to get them to agree.”
I reach over and pat her arm, grimacing at the slight chill. “You did all you could.” I sigh. “So if we’re stuck waiting for Aiyana to come up with her trial, what do we do while we wait?”
I’m just about to broach the subject of learning to fight or even to develop my powers, when Drystan steps forward. “There are probably a million fae seeking an audience with you, you still have to bless the temple shrine here, and then there are several fae who could be formidable allies if you can convince them it’s worth their while.”
So more diplomacy and blessings?
I grimace, and Kitarni notices. “What would you like to do, Nicnevin?”
Her earnest gaze meets mine, and I’m sucked back to that moment on the stairs after I failed to charm Caed and fled where she swore to have my back.
I guess it’s time to test that theory.
“I’m going to put all my energy into learning to fight.”
The silence explodes between my males, broken only by Maeve’s enormous whoop of excitement. Kitarni freezes, clearly not expecting my answer, and Prae’s eyebrows shoot up into her glamoured hairline.
I suppose the announcement did come out of nowhere, but their reaction makes my gut churn with nerves.
“No,” Drystan rebukes, as I expected he would. “Why would you even think that’s a good idea? You can barely stand being in the same room as iron, let alone parry an iron sword. If this is all part of some foolish fantasy of charging onto the battlefield to save Florian, then—”
