I rip my helmet away from my face as I turn to confront the royal box. Rose—just as heartrendingly beautiful as always—has turned ghostly pale, and Bree’s hand has slipped around to hold her shoulder, keeping her in her seat. Kitarni is frowning at the spring queen, and Aiyana…
Is grinning like a feral loon.
“Are you surrendering, Sir Jaromir?” she demands.
She knows as well as I do that I can’t. The fate of the realm hinges on my passing Aiyana’s trial, but this is beyond even Aiyana’s twisted sense of humour. She can’t seriously expect me to harm them?
“I don’t fight children,” I retort. “Choose a different champion.”
What kind of honourless unseelie does she take me for? In fact, even a few of them would object if presented with this situation.
“Fortunately, then, this isn’t a fight.” Aiyana claps her hands together. “My trial is thus: your wolf must spend fifteen minutes under the influence of Gryth’s magic, after which I will consider the matter closed and your banishment forgiven.”
“What magic?” Rose demands.
There’s a tremor in her voice, and the wolf bristles beneath my skin at the sound of her fear.
“Nightmares,” Aiyana replies, before turning to her audience of gathered fae. “Since it was the wolf of Sir Jaromir’s father that caused him to betray me, it is the wolf I take issue with.”
So she’s devised a plan to take revenge against an animal who has no way of knowing that whatever that kid puts in my head isn’t real. Shit. It’s a clever plan. She knew no champion of hers stood a chance in a physical fight against a member of the Nicnevin’s Guard. I never anticipated that she’d figure out a way around my immortality.
Rose’s expression hides nothing of her fury, but I shake my head at her, silently telling her not to protest. Because no matter how ill-prepared I am for this, I’ll face it. My wolf feels the same.
For her, for Rose, we’ll endure anything.
Buck up, Jare. It’s this or civil war.
“And Amias is here to ensure our audience remains entertained.” Aiyana shrugs. “After all, watching your Guard twitch on the ground with no context at all is no fun. Amias’s projection magic will allow us to watch what Gryth is showing Sir Jaromir.”
“You’re making a spectacle of torture.” Rose’s tone is sharp with reprimand.
“I’m simply doing as the ancient laws allow.”
Aiyana is enjoying this, but I don’t think—in all her thirst for vengeance—that she’s realised the true danger she’s putting herself in. Rose is almost glowing with power as the spring queen threatens me. Her barghest’s fur stands on end in response to his mistress’s emotions.
Right now, I’m pretty certain only Bree’s touch and the dampening effects of Aiyana’s own magic are keeping the minor royal alive.
The sight of my mate like this makes the wolf preen and my cock harden.
Shit. There are children present, Jare. Now is not the time!
At least my armour covers the evidence. I thought my body was broken after Rose’s fever, but barely a few days later, and I’m ready to pounce on her again.
Hopefully when this is over, she’ll let me bury myself in her body as many times as it takes for me to fuck the memory of this twisted court from our systems. I’ll fall asleep with the taste of her on my tongue again, and she’ll snuggle against me until she falls asleep. My perfect mate. All I have to do is survive this.
My eyes meet my fellow Guards’, and we exchange a meaningful look. Bree nods distractedly, and Drystan’s chin tilts up. I take that as a silent promise.
They’ve got Rose. Even if I’m a vegetable at the end of this, she’ll still be protected for the rest of her days. All I have to do is focus on making it through the next few minutes with my sanity intact.
I drop my helm to the sand and prepare to shift.
* * *
Lorcan
Rescuing the Fomorian is so dull. Mainly because Bram and Madoc keep making me do things the long way.
Case in point, I’m not allowed to kill anyone.
