Page 172 of Cathmoir's Sons

“And she wasn’t even doing the two-thirty feeding,” Darwin says. He’s standing with this back to us, watching the battlefield. He’s dragged his father over and has a death grip on Callan’s arm. The former Thistle Regent looks so shell-shocked that he’s not objecting to his son’s hold.

A thin scream rises through the cacophony of caws and beating wings at the far end of the grove. I can’t tell who it is.

But I know who it isn’t.

I press a kiss to Caileán’s temple. “My queen, I beg your leave to take your vengeance.”

“Together?” she asks.

“Together,” I agree.

Chapter 48

The King is Dead

LUCA

Something I’ve never worried about? Being left out of the shit my brother and our queen get up to. I know my place in our foursome. Neither Law nor Caileán need my physical strength or magic or knowledge. They have plenty of their own.

Theywantme with them. They include me because my presence is important to them. Because they know I want to be part of every adventure, no matter how dangerous.

Including Caileán’s vengeance.

When Caileán and Law start forward, I’m right beside them. Law drops to his paws and I follow, so Caileán walks between a pair of snarling Cait warriors.

Our path to Ruadhán takes us around the Mother and through the ragged crescent of fae lords. The Mother watches, eyes gleaming in the darkness of her cowl. She says nothing, does nothing, to stop us. Wile of Baelboggan, still on his knees, shuffles to the side to get out of our way. The Holly King and Aehelwen, holding hands after their near brush with Emnyre’s arrow, fall in beside Rhodes as we pass them.

“Ruadhán,” Caileán calls. “The Mother may not judge you, but I do.”

Ruadhán takes a step back from where he’s standing a wary distance from Licyssa, only to bump into the cold metal curve of Jou’s scythe.

Ruadhán jumps and flinches away from scythe and demon.

“Don’t even think about tryin’ to go nowhere,” Jou growls at Ruadhán.

“Call off your pet,” Ruadhán snarls at Caileán. “If the Mother doesn’t judge me, you have no right.”

The Mother’s chuckle is low and musical, but ringing. “I was not called upon to judge you, Ruadhán the Red. You are not sworn to me. You carry no weapon from my hand. My name has not graced your mouth in supplication or prayer. You will be judged by your peers, just as every other creature who walks under the sun and moon.”

Ruadhán’s sharp muzzle swings right and left. Looking for allies or an escape route. Either way, he doesn’t find what he’s looking for. Even the demons are giving him side-eye.

“Lady of Bile—” Ruadhán begins.

She chortles and steps away from him. “Do not look to me for aid, trickster. My bargain was with your king. You got a great deal of use out of the poison I provided your liege. Some might say you got the better end of the deal. Don’t think that endears you to me.”

“Here is your chance?—”

Licyssa shakes her head. “The Crow Queen has not made a friend of me this day, and there will be a reckoning, but the enemy of my enemy is not my friend. You have too much of a taste for rape, Ruadhán. Rapists are not welcome in the City of Mirrors. Pity you did not call on Shaghaan. He might have found you more to his taste. I do not.”

“Lady, for you?—”

Licyssa’s laugh gurgles over the squabbling of the crows as they feed. “Spare me your lies, trickster. I said no. No means no, although I appreciate no means take by force to you. You’ll find that difficult with me, I think.”

Ruadhán’s face purses sourly. “Princess of Thirst, if your mother refuses me?—”

Mordeh looks at him like he’s a pile of dung she’s just stepped in. “I hope Queen Caileán cuts off your prick and makes you eat it.”

The Crow Queens have drawn into a circle around Ruadhán as he’s tried to bargain with the demonesses. Brangwy chortles at the demoness’ suggestion. She bares sharp teeth stained red by the piercing through her lip. “I hope she letsmeeat it.”

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