Page 49

“Once or twice, Captain. But I mostly meant that he is good company even outside of the bed. Though I’m sure you know that. What with your history and all.” She was rambling, letting thoughts spill out of her mouth without any filter.

I grunted and fell silent as she led me through the familiar path to the massive carved wooden doors I had grown to associate with my daily ritual of finding my little bug. She was not beyond these doors, though. She would never be behind them again. All that lay beyond was the specter of my haunted past.

My escort, her duty seen to, wandered off into the belly of the palace and left me to stare at the carved mosaic before me. Melancholy should rule me at this moment, standing in the same place that I had stood so many times with her, dreading the opening of the doors just as much as the last time. I should be feeling guilt and shame knowing that the last time I was in this room was when I had admitted my greatest betrayal to her and been pinned to a chair for my troubles. I should be mourning her loss and weeping openly from vein and eye for what I had done and all the ill omens that this chamber held.

And yet I could not. For her sake. For my sake. For the sake of the entire blasted fucking realm.

The only consolation was that I had found her. I held her in my arms. I had touched and tasted her skin. I had inhaled her pleasure and heard her howl my name in delight. I hadn’t redeemed myself just yet but there was hope now. I could hear its wings rattling at the window, still cloaked in night just a single latch-turn away.

Even my erstwhile lover and the bane of my life could not take that from me. No matter what he wanted, my path was clearer than ever, and that journey would lead me back to her. She was still in Magh Meall and no matter where she went from here, I would find her. And I would reclaim my position at her side. This time I would earn it, as I had always intended to.

Drawing in a deep breath, I pushed open the doors to his chamber and stepped in.

“You asked for me, Majesty?” I schooled my features and voice. He could not know what I had discovered or even that I had hope once more. He could only know that I had returned to the castle.

He turned away from the recently installed stained glass window on the great stone wall of the sitting room separating his chambers from the other apartments. It had been a vanity that was not necessary, but he was never one to hold himself back from his own indulgences. It was the same image he had imprisoned me with—a stag pierced by the rays of a dawning sun. Only the stag was crystal clear and allowed him to look down on the forest surrounding the palace, like a god ever watchful over his flock. It still made the bones of my neck creak with discomfort.

“Ah, my Raven. Flown home to your roost, I see,” he said blandly, turning just slightly enough to settle his summer-sky eyes on me. A flick of soft blues took me in from the top of my head to my boots.

He didn’t linger over the bog muck, the sweat that had long ago turned to salty dust. He did not see the way my uniform hung, stretched, and misshapen from her pulling hands. He did not care to see anything but my exhaustion and my physical existence. Discomfort that was not his own was beneath his notice.

“I am, Majesty.”

He turned back to the window. “Door.”

Imperious as always. Pompous dick. The flip-flop between softened repentant and magnanimous prick should have been a whipcrack of confusion, but I had seen it all before. His manipulations were no longer the razor slicing at skin too slow to mark its intrusion. I longed for the embrace of the dark sister, just enough to get me through the subsequent minutes, but my existing caches were all depleted by now. If I reached out to try to gather the supplies or to purchase already mixed Siur Dobh, the Bandrui—or worse, Daróg—would know immediately.

One would scour me with repudiation and torment me into feeling the effects of it again leaving my system. The other would capitalize on my compromised state, like he had done for decades before the war. I could not afford to luxuriate any longer, especially now that I knew my little bug still walked the realm.

I would need to procure my supplies more cleverly than I had before, but I was up for the task. Especially knowing that every drop of resin would bring me closer to a plan to get everything I wanted and more.

I closed the door behind me and moved deeper into the room, stopping before the fireplace that had been both the witness to my shame and to her retribution. I folded my arms behind me, standing rigid as his soldier and not as his friend. I would never be that again.

The silence drew out between us until he seemed to grow tired of the view and finally turned to make his way to his wing-backed chair. He did not take it, though; he merely drew his hand over the woodwork. “Must I ask you for your report? I had hoped that I didn’t need to summon you. I had hoped you would have come to me of your own accord, Ard Tiarna of Árus Láigh.”

The knife twisted, the warning tacit. He dangled my potential crown over my head again. I had not been so foolish as to think it would return to me without his puppet strings holding it aloft. After all, he had not mentioned a single time striking the ink from my skin.

“Apologies, Sire, I am still weary from my journey.” I bowed low at the waist, taking the precious seconds to execute it to gather my thoughts and to build the lie I would spin for him. “Word came that there had been a report of four bodies moving through the land that resembled those of the last known appearances of the four fugitives. Knowing your interest in their return, I rode out without escort to intercept them. They were last seen near the coast, heading toward the Hy-Brasil shipping docks. When I arrived, I questioned the merrow and selkies and none had seen them.”

“The docks? Is that so? And how would four humans know where the docks are, let alone the cities of beyond? Specifically, Hy-Brasil would be one of the wisest places for errant humans?” He picked an imaginary thread from the chair’s upholstery and looked up at me, bored with my lie. “Was it Sir Silvertree? I don’t know if I can trust a Fae with a selkie for a wife.”

Irritation clawed at my spine. Silver was my most trusted ally not oathsworn to my cause. He was also the most honorable of all the Ard Rí’s soldiers. He was the pride of my squad.

“I suspect they might have overheard one of the other humans speaking on it. We recently acquired three humans from The Hammer, if I recall. His ships are water weavers, not air like the rest of the Far Darrig fleet.”

He drew in a slight breath and raised his gaze to me once more. “Tell me, my Raven, of which do you wish me to accept? Your incompetence or your dishonor?”

“Majesty?” My jaw ticked with irritation at his ability to see through me.

“It is a plain question. Of which do you wish me to accept? That the Captain of my Guard, the former general of my armies, and my lifelong companion, is incapable of finding four runaway daora. Or that selfsame Fae would stand before me, in the very chamber that has echoed both his laughter and his pleasure and lie to me.”

“Majesty, I—”

“Neither. I know you well enough to know that you are neither a liar nor incompetent. So, I can only believe you are keeping things from me.” He shuffled closer, danger flashing in his sharp gaze. “You found her, didn’t you? Where is she? Bring her to me. I will have her returned to me, Raven of the Dawn!”

I watched the rage build within him, slowly boiling to the top and overflowing the pot. “I—”

“She is mine by law and by rights, Raven! And you keep her from me a purpose!”