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A wry smirk pulled at my lips. Of course Ailbhe, god of rage, transformation, and new beginnings from destruction, had been interested in my Cricket. She was a force of nature in and of herself, as he had been before his ascension. I had barely survived the tempest of her emotions. Had it not been for her shit aim and the secret I was still too much of a coward to admit, I’d have bled out amidst the rubble of that damned bed that had kept her from me.

I could not keep living these moments in secret.

Sorrow was looking between the Bandrui and I. “No one else thinks it’s suspect?”

“What is there to suspect? She was in the company of a Bandrui, lighting their sacred offering candles and introducing herself to them. And she had just recovered from a devastating injury. What suspicions do you have, Sorrow? I would have been suspect had that old lech not spoken to her,” the Bandrui snorted.

I watched her handle Sorrow with ease and wondered again why she had never accepted ascension. Surely, she was old enough to have caught the eye of the gods she was so intimate with. Those she had not lain with she had supped with a thousand times over.

Sorrow sucked his teeth with the reproach. “She is a human.”

“She is. She is also a daoire, as you so delightfully wish to keep reminding us. And she is also young, even by human standards. The sky is also blue. What else shall we count among the obvious things?”

“She is a human.”

I watched with growing amusement as the two fenced back and forth, silently enjoying the distraction from the mending of my wounds.

“Do say it again, my Prince. I don’t think I heard your elitist culet trumpet’s proper accent. Do try again, your grace.”

Even when tearing someone to shreds, the Bandrui was a sight to behold. She grew more honeyed the more poison she poured upon another.

Sorrow sucked his teeth again and huffed, defeated by the Bandrui in wordplay. He never won. I don’t know why he kept trying.

“Hold still, Emrys. This will hurt,” she whispered against my ear as her hand wrapped around the dagger still lodged deep within me.

Sorrow and I both stilled. I wasn’t sure if he had heard her use my true name, but it mattered little when we had been oath-sworn as long as we three had.

I drew in a steadying breath, and she pulled with every bit of her significant strength. The dagger had lodged itself in the backside of my scapula, and I felt the bone dislocate with the force needed to release the blade from the prison of my flesh.

The world dissolved in sparks and black fireworks as the pain became too much for my body to tolerate, and I had no more strength left at my fingertips.

Chapter 21

Ihad never been in the palace this early, as I was part of what was called the third hunt. The Fae liked to call the fleet of humans that lived below them in the catacombs, in a mockery of their favorite pastime, the wild hunt. Each of us was assigned to a specific squadron of individuals. I had to, upon reflection, admire the precision with which each was arranged. It allowed the great hordes of humans that the Fae ignored, to move about the castle and funnel up into it without overwhelming the corridors.

Even when three entire fleets of humans were scurrying about the palace, I was one of two humans in this corridor.

I made my way, unattended for the first time in weeks, to that dreaded bedroom I was shackled to by day. I hadn’t seen The Raven nor the King since the incident with Lady White Dove.

At night, I lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling, concerned that I might have killed him. The image of that great man collapsing against a table and needing to be helped away haunted me in the darkness of the warrens. He had been kinder to me than most other Fae, and there was a certain regret that rotted in the pits of my stomach over the idea that I might have accidentally killed him. If he died by my hand, I wanted it to be on purpose, and I wanted to watch the light flee from his damnable, stunning, annoyingly beautiful forest eyes.

I was lost in thought when I bumped into the Chamberlain, the human whose job it was to arrange and manage the entire royal quarter’s fleet of servants. He bristled under the contact and pushed me away.

“What are you doing here, Cricket!” he demanded, the feathers woven into his hair twitching in irritation.

“Uh . . . pretty sure that should be obvious?” I made a vague gesture toward that damned oak door a few paces from the junction we had collided in.

“Are you stupid, girl?”

“Apparently as stupid as your reflection, sir.” I emphasized that last bit as he had scolded me for not “addressing him with his proper due” the last time I had the displeasure of speaking with him.

He scowled deep into the walrusy bristle of his mustache.

I rolled my eyes and jammed my fist into my hip. “Is there a reason you’re blocking me from getting on with my day?”

“Watch your attitude, Cricket. Or I’ll have you chastised.”

“You know, I’m getting real tired of all the endless hollow threats, Chamberlain. You, the Laundress, the guards. Every one of you seems to think I’m absolutely terrified of a little pain. And none of you seem to have the cock to follow through. So. Spare me your tired threats and tell me why I shouldn’t be here. Or do it. Either way would be far more interesting than what we’re doing.”