What? “He’s your grandson.”
“He’s the son of the monster that took my daughter from me.” Reyni paces away, the promise of violence written in the sharp jerk of her movements. “He’s killed hundreds of our people, sentenced Goddess-knows how many more to the same fate as Liana. As far as I’m concerned, he’s not of my blood.”
Caed looks like he’s been slapped. “Fine.”
My hand rises, ready to grab him, but he dodges, turning on his heel and taking off like a hundred barghests are chasing him.
“You bitch.” Prae shoves into the space where he was. “How fucking dare you? You have no idea what Caed went through to earn the privilege of seeing his mother. He isnothinglike Elatha.”
“So he’s never captured fae?” Reyni challenges. “Never executed one of us for sport? Don’t make me laugh.”
Prae doesn’t back down. “Henevertook captives, and when he was forced to execute prisoners, he chose the ones who physically couldn’t take their enslavement anymore. He gave them the mercy his mother was denied.”
My mind flashes back to the throne room beneath the mountain, and the pit full of fae that Caed killed with those ghost blades. Was that really a mercy killing? Why wouldn’t he just tell me that?
He’s let me believe the worst of him since I escaped.
“When he comes back, you’re going to apologise.” I straighten my spine as I say it. “And while you’re at it, you’re going to explain why you thought spying on my private conversations was a good idea.” General Reyni stiffens, and I raise an eyebrow. “Unless you have some other plausible explanation for why you appeared when you did?”
“You’re an untested Nicnevin, swaggering into my war camp with a plan that’s likely to get my warriors killed.” Reyni looks about as impressed with me as Cressida was, and I take a deep breath. Goddess save me from the females of the autumn court.
“You’re right on all counts,” I admit. “But I am still your Nicnevin. If you try something like that again, I’ll let Lore kill you.”
Turning to Prae and Gryffin, I gesture in the direction Caed went with my chin. “Find him and bring him back.”
“Yes, Nicnevin.” Gryffin bows, and Prae gives Reyni one last withering look before following.
I pin the general with a look. “Now, you’re going to tell me where you last saw my brother.”
Twenty-Nine
Caed
What was I even expecting when I met my grandparents? Hugs and tears? Oh, come on. What fae in their right mind would be happy to know they’re related to the blade prince?
I stomp through the fucking forest like an elephant, uncaring if the fae decide to shoot me. We’re close to the front lines, maybe if I’m lucky they’ll mistake me for one of my father’s people and give me an excuse to retaliate.
Fighting would be good right about now. Destroying something could also work, but this stupid court is struggling enough from my past actions without me setting it ablaze… again.
I’m a quarter redcap.
Fuck, that explains a lot. Goddess, Lore is going to love this, I can just tell.
I should’ve seen it coming. It’s not like the line of Balor has a history of happy families. Elatha murdered his own mother, Ethniu, when he was just over a century old. Andthatwas afterEthniu murdered her brother, King Morc, to claim the throne on behalf of her son. Prae’s mother orchestrated my brother’s death, and my infant sister’s, and then was killed in turn by my father—her brother.
Now I’m trying to join the fucked-up cycle with a little patricide of my own.
Yeah, having fae grandparents who want me dead shouldn’t be that much of a surprise.
I hear the skirmish before I see it. The unmistakable clash of weapons and growls of warriors carries through the trees in a way that makes it impossible to determine what direction it’s coming from. Fucking Forest of Whispers.
Still, I pick a direction and draw my sword.
The uncomplicated mess of battle sounds pretty damned good right about now, and Danu must be smiling on me for once because I find them a few minutes later.
It’s an ambush, a lone brown bear shifter against over a dozen of my kind. There are a handful of fallen—both fae and Fomorian—on the ground around them, already being covered in the thick carpet of leaves and swept away by opportunistic roots.
You’ve got to appreciate how easy it is to dispose of bodies in this court.
