Maeve waves her off, uncowed. “There wouldn’t have been infighting if I hadn’t killed their leaders. Whatever the reason, they left, and when the third war came, it was over in months.”
Oblivious to their byplay, Jaro’s face pales. “The Third Nicnevin was training for war her entire life,” he reminds me. “Her gifts were strength and sword-wielding, and she—”
“And I can use that! All I have to do is touch Maeve and—”
“Maybe with training,” Jaro admits, scrubbing a hand over his beard. “But unlike with the Third Nicnevin, those powers won’t be innate. You’ll have to draw power from Danuandkeep in physical contact with your guides—easier said than done in battle—andthenfocus enough to use that power. And you won’t be able to do any of that, because you’re iron sensitive. Merely being surrounded by Fomorian weapons would stop you from using your magic. Even if that wasn’t an issue, you’d have to master your own power, and hers as well.
“In fact, learning to channel your gifts would be a vastly better use of your time for that exact reason. Learning to wield a sword properly takes years, but if you could reliably master drawing from the Second Nicnevin and Danu, you’d be able to use her gift of perfect aim to support us from a distance. That’s a compromise even Drystan would accept.”
But it won’t save me if Elatha gets close enough to rip off my wings. My heart shrinks in my chest, and I look away, breaking his gaze.
“Fine. I get it.”
Jaro reaches for me, as if to offer comfort, but I shift, putting myself out of his reach.
“Rosie, I think—”
“I get it,” I repeat. “I’m a liability on the battlefield. If I’m attacked, I should just stand there and wait to be saved.”
Maeve sucks in an impressed breath, her cheeks creasing into a smirk. “You make me so proud every day.”
My other two guides shoot her disbelieving looks.
“Perhaps it would be best if we left them alone,” Titania coughs, grabbing Maeve’s shoulder. “This is something they should work out without our interference.”
Mab nods once, taking hold of Maeve’s other shoulder when she might’ve objected. Before I can say anything, all three of them poof from existence.
Without them beside me, I feel oddly alone. My guides were my backup, even though none of the others could see them.
Jaro straightens, opens his mouth, then closes it, then opens it again. “I will protect you,” he promises. “Once the war is over, there will be time to teach you self defence. I’ll do it myself, I swear on my honour. Right now, we need to focus on getting help to Florian and reclaiming the city I lost.”
My head snaps up, and I see the second he realises what he’s said because he looks away sharply.
Kitarni speaks. “Jaromir… losing Elfhame… that wasn’t your fault.”
I nod so hard that my neck hurts. “There was nothing you could’ve done.”
“Forgive me, High Priestess, but if I hadn’t lost the outer wall, the city could’ve withstood years of siege. So, I think you’ll find it was entirely my fault.” Jaro shuffles on one foot, then turns on his heel. “I have to prepare for the trial. If you need me…” He trails off, giving me an indecipherable look before he heads out of the room and into the night.
I look at the remaining fae in the room in despair. Kitarni is still perched on the bed, deep in thought. Prae has managed to keep her mouth shut, but she looks as fed up as I feel with the whole situation. Bree is still keeping to his spot by the door, eyes fixed on me and expression unreadable.
And Lore… Lore is missing.
I swallow, wondering what he’s up to now.
“So, now that that’s gone about as well as you probably expected,” Prae begins. “Wanna start training?” She pauses, then looks at Bree. “Unless you’re also going to hobble her with excuses as to why she—Elatha’s number one target—shouldn’t be able to defend herself.”
Bree sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I won’t. I understand Drystan’s fear, and honestly, I agree with all of Jaro’s arguments, but I know what it’s like to feel helpless. I would never put my mate through that.” He pauses. “If this is what you want, I’ll help, but I’m not the best one to teach you. I’m stronger and larger than you. The Third Nicnevin is probably your best option.”
It’s reluctant support, but it makes the stone in my gut lighten considerably. Finally, someone who doesn’t want me to sit around being useless.
Twenty-Two
Lorcan
Soo many shiny pretty things.Ouch. Sharp.
I’ll take that one. Snatching it up from the shelf smears a little of my blood on the serrated edge of the blade, and I stare at it for a second before a gleam from my left distracts me.
