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The flush returned to Belial’s pale face, but he looked thoughtful. “Yes. Perhaps I… Perhaps I should pluck up the courage to speak to her about it.”
I shrugged, setting down my cup. “As long as it’s not just because you know the gancanagh is no longer an option.”
His nose wrinkled. “It is not. Caom and I hadn’t spoken at all in months.”
“Good.” I stood and smoothed down my shirt. “I appreciate the drink. And the conversation.”
“As do I, Lonan.” He got to his feet. “May I ask how Ash is doing?”
I smiled. “Very well. He just visited, and he’ll be returning again soon.”
Belial nodded, eyeing me with an unreadable expression. “Did your mother still have his arm? There is a slim chance I could reattach it, seeing as she made me douse it in a potion that kept it alive.” His nose wrinkled. “Which was quite distasteful.”
“Oh. Yes.” I paused. “I’ll ask him, but he does have a new arm now.”
He nodded. “I remember seeing it at the Midsith. Very impressive.”
“If he decides to keep that one, is there a way for you to… kill the arm? He wants to burn it, but is worried he might feel it while it’s still alive.”
“He would feel it. And yes, I can cleanse the potion from it so it dies naturally. Let me know which he would prefer.”
“I will.” I turned to leave, making my way to the front door. “Feel free to visit the palace at any time, Belial. You’re welcome there.”
“I appreciate it, Lonan. I will. I would actually quite like to see Ash again.” He was quiet for a moment. “If he wants to, of course. He’s probably still quite angry at me for poisoning him.”
“He is fully aware of what my mother was like,” I said dryly. “I don’t believe he holds a grudge. I’ll let him know.”
“Alright.” There was a pause, then, “I’m very happy for you, Lonan.”
I looked back, my hand on the doorknob. Belial gave me a faint smile.
“My dealings with your mother allowed me to see more of what growing up in the palace was like than most others. For your sake, I’m glad she is gone.”
I smiled at him. “So am I, Belial.”
Chapter Forty-Seven
Ash
Pure joy lit up my face when I emerged into the clearing in front of the Midsith and saw Lonan leaning against its side, flipping his black-handled dagger end over end with practised ease.
“You beat me here,” I said as I made my way over.
He grinned, tucking the dagger into its sheath as he straightened to meet me halfway.
“Only by an hour or so.” He cupped my chin and gave me a deep kiss. “How are things back on seelie, Oak King?”
“All fine. Quiet. Nua and Gillie send their love.” I looked over at the figure bound to the old oak tree, hands restrained over his head to a low-hanging branch. “Was it okay getting him here?”
“Yes, fine. He wouldn’t stop talking, though.” Lonan rolled his eyes. “Pleading with me until he realised that wouldn’t work, so he started getting a bit vicious. Didn’t you, Cethlen?” he called over. “What was it you called me? A vile little cockroach that Mother should have crushed under her shoe?”
“I’m going to make you regret this,” Cethlen spat, hands twisting fruitlessly in their bindings. “Fucking snake.”
“What makes you think we’re not just going to kill you?” I asked.
“If you were going to kill me, you would have done it by now,” he snarled. “Don’t think me weak, Lonan, just because I cannot see. Wherever you’re taking me, I’ll find my way back.”
“I can promise you, you won’t,” Lonan said easily, crossing his arms as he turned to face me. “The threats got a bit boring after the first hour. Not very creative.”
