“And when they demanded you turn on your own Nicnevin?” Caed spits. “Did you even care?”
Máel glares back at him. “Where was the Nicnevin when our city was flooded with dirty refugees? Where was the Nicnevin when the Temple started calling for us to open our homes to those who had deserted their lieges’ lands and came crawling to us asking for pity? We were drowning in the filthy poor and the?—”
Espen strikes, his fangs sinking deep into her cheek. His serpentine body draws back and bites again. And again. Each savage slash shakes the mattress with such force that I flinch.
“Your Nicnevin was a child,” Bree hisses as Máel screams. “And you knew better.”
No, I think to myself.She didn’t.
Máel and her father care nothing for the consequences of their actions, or how they affect the rest of Faerie, as long as their rotten paradise remains perfectly under their control.
Máel’s wounds smoke and fizzle, and her limbs quickly start to shake before settling in rigid lines. Her wide-set eyes bulge out of their sockets, and a foamy black line of drool escapes from her mouth.
But her screaming has stopped.
The venom is a paralytic, I remember Bree explaining. It’s the most painful toxin known to fae, and the worst way to die because you’re locked in your body, unable to do anything but feel as it dissolves you from the inside out.
There is no cure.
It’s a fitting end for such a poisonous bitch.
“We need to go,” Caed says, glancing at the door. “If Draard is here, he won’t be alone.”
I hesitate. Bree deserves to see Máel’s death, to know that she’ll never be waiting around a corner to drag him back into this hell, but he stands anyway.
“Don’t let go of me.” His hand tightens on mine as the snake slithers back up his arm and sinks into his skin with a last affectionate lick.
“Never,” I vow, pulling him towards the doorway where Caed is already disappearing.
With a final look at the dying princess, I tip over one of the lit braziers by the door, watching dispassionately as the flames eagerly leap from their prison and steadily eat their way across the lush rug and up the tendrils of sickly sweet nightshade.
As we flee, I say a silent prayer to Danu that the fire consumes every last inch of the place where Máel tortured my mate. I can’t say I’d mind if it spread to the rest of the palace as well.
Five
Bricriu
I’m floating. The only thing keeping me grounded is the heat of Rose’s tiny hand in mine. I should pull away—she shouldn’t dirty herself by touching Máel’s leftovers—but I can’t bring myself to do it. My position at the back allows me to watch as my Nicnevin follows Caed through the palace without question, stopping when he stops, tensing when he does. Fae stream past us as the smoke begins to spread, shouts of ‘fire’ filling the air, but my magic reaches out and mutes their calls for aid.
Let the place burn.
Something must have happened. Something big enough to drive Rose to trusthim, of all people.
Máel’s earlier words haunt me, and the ball of dread that hasn’t truly dissipated since I followed my father into their trap grows heavier. What did they do? Was Rose hurt?
Given the state of her dress, and the blood splattered across it, I can only assume she was. My hand clenches on hers until my fingers go numb.
I should let go. I’m probably hurting her, though she hasn’t complained.
But her presence is the only thing keeping my screams from escaping. Her violet eyes keep finding me, checking on me, as we head through the palace. She’s so distracted that I’m pretty sureCaedmust’ve taken over the responsibility of glamouring us.
Why did she come? Why put herself at risk for me? She knew I was in Máel’s bed. She knew what was happening, what the summer princess was doing.
And she came anyway. She’s touching me anyway. Even with the reek of another female clinging to my skin, she refuses to abandon me. My eyes are stuck to the place where we’re joined, not because it’s uncomfortable, but because it’s the only part of me that isn’t crawling with the memory of Máel.
Mercifully, the Toxic Orchid’s collection of powerful potions that would’ve forced my body to grow hard for Máel burned with the whorehouse. That didn’t stop her from trying to force a reaction. Thank the Goddess, nothing she tried worked. That was when she decided to pour her frustration into my torture. Punishing my body for denying her.
Torture I can take, but those touches before…
