Page 178 of The Fallen Fae King

Wren gives a choked laugh. “I am already involved, and nobody would believe that I wasn’t.”

I arch my brow. “Making friends, huh?”

He blushes.

“More like snarling at every dragon who tries to court him.” Elatha studies Wren fondly. “They have a fascination with fae who hate them, it seems.”

Tell me about it.

“It’s decided then.” I take a ragged breath, staring around at my circle of friends in the dawn light. “I won’t have my people live and die in a foreign land under the yoke of tyrants. This will be our only chance to rise up. With the iron poisoning working through me, this is an all or nothing attempt.”

Softly, I open my wings.

In answer, they each reach forward, lifting their own wings to touch mine.

My heart is filled with warm hope, as well as a chilling terror.

This is it.

This is bloody it, and there is no turning back.

“We swear by the sun, wind, dew, earth, and frost,” Wren leads the others of the Frost Clan in the solemn oath, as our wings touch, “to follow you in this Fallen Rebellion. If we break this oath, then may cosmic retribution follow. We will rise up and return the Raven King and his people to the Unseelie Kingdom.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Consort House, Shadow Court

Freya

Sleepily, I snuggle deeper into my nest. I take a deep breath of the smoky, frost, and oak scented blankets.

I ache in the best way and in the best places.

What got into Daire last night?

And how can I make sure that it gets into him…then me…like that again?

I smile, savoring the strain in my thighs and the sting of bruises on my hips where he pinned me down.

How many times did he fuck me? I lost count at four.

By the moon, fae have stamina.

Daire caught me up in an orgiastic frenzy. Was he honoring me with a glimpse into the delirious, untamed revelry that happens at the fae parties that they hold underneath the stars?

Will I ever be lucky enough to experience it?

I sigh, happily.

I fucking hope so.

I’ll willingly lose myself to a fae orgiastic frenzy any day or night.

“Daire…” I pat the space next to me, expecting to touch Daire’s chest, but crack my eye open when instead my hand lands on something sticky.

I stare at the empty nest.

My hand is lying in a bowl of apple slices, which are drizzled with honey.