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I braced myself, wincing when it bit down, a horrible tingling sensation spreading through my limbs. Pain throbbed from the bites in my arm, but I forced myself to concentrate.
Balor’s sneering voice filled my head.
“I killed the dog’s parents and yet here I still am. I cut off his fucking arm and here I still am. I took you out of the air with a crossbow and here I am, opposite the most feared fae assassin alive, taunting him while he stands there and does nothing. You’re a joke, both of you. Two little boys who tried to play grown-up games and got scared when they became too real. It would be funny if it wasn’t so fucking sad.”
I was trembling with fury when the second adder slithered off my arm. I shook it out as I slowly rose to my feet, trying to ignore the throbbing pain.
“I appreciate you showing me,” I managed to get out, my voice tight with anger. One of the adders hissed before all three of the snakes turned and slithered their way back into the forest.
I was going to fucking destroy him.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Lonan
It was surreal to take my mother’s former seat at the dining table.
The staff didn’t seem to know how to react to the news that the Carlin was dead, but they hurried to fulfil my simple request for breakfast, seeming grateful for some semblance of familiarity.
Once only two places had been laid at the table, I told the nervous server fae, “Please inform my brother Cethlen that he has been summoned to the dining room. Word it exactly like that.”
He nodded quickly. “Yes, of course, Pri—King Lonan.”
After he left, I poured myself a cup of tea and took a sip, my eyes tight and dry from exhaustion. I hadn’t slept yet, but I wouldn’t be able to if I tried. My mind began to churn in the silence of the dining room, sifting through everything that had happened, trying to work out was to come now that Ash and I were kings on opposite sides of the forest.
I stiffened when the door opened. Cethlen’s red-eyed hellhound trotted in, tongue lolling out of its panting mouth. My brother stepped in behind it.
“Mother, are you feeling better?”
I cleared my mind of everything else as I set down my cup. I could only deal with one thing at a time, and it would be foolish to let myself get distracted. It was time to deal with one of my brothers.
“Good morning, Cethlen.”
He froze, head cocking. “Lonan?”
“Yes.”
His hands clenched into fists. “Are you sitting in… Why are you in Mother’s chair?”
“Mother is dead.” I had never been one for theatrics, but there was something deeply satisfying about seeing what little colour was in my brother’s pale face drain completely. “Take a seat. It’s time for breakfast.”
He didn’t move at first, breathing fast and shallow as he stood there, conflicted over what to do. None of my brothers were cowards. Balor was many things, but he certainly wasn’t a coward. Bres was frankly too stupid to be a coward. But while Cethlen was still sly and self-serving, he had always been a follower, not a leader.
It was somewhat fascinating to watch him weigh up his options in silence. I waited patiently, sipping my tea before sitting forward to pour him a cup.
Finally, he made his way to his usual seat—now to my right, from my new place at the head of the table—and licked his lips. “I presume congratulations are in order, little brother?”
“It would appear so, brother,” I said pleasantly. “It’s a shame the other two can’t join us. But I hear Bres isn’t feeling quite himself, and Balor is…”
“I can tell you what I know,” he jumped in quickly.
I didn’t answer, instead sliding his teacup closer. “I poured you some tea.”
“I—” Sweat beaded on Cethlen’s upper lip as he frantically tried to work out what game I was playing. “I appreciate it.”
He slowly reached for the cup, a slight tremor in his hand as he lifted it to his mouth and took a tiny, reluctant sip.
The door opened, making him jump violently. I’d never seen him so on edge. As the server fae set our bowls down in front of us, I said, “We’re having porridge. Your favourite, yes? Sweetened with honey and fruit.”
