Page 14 of Beneath a Shattered Sky
“What do you want in return?” Drystan asks, suspicion dripping from his tone.
“An ambassador for the water-dwelling fae in your court,” Cyreus answers smoothly. “Elfhame is landlocked, and previous Nicnevins have refused our calls for that reason, but we deserve the ear of Danu just as much as the rest of the fae. And also… Ciara and I would like you to bless our mating ceremony once her father has faced the Goddess’s justice.”
I look back at Titania, silently asking her to explain, but Cyreus does before she can.
“Danu’s blessing would legitimise our relationship in the eyes of the Summer Court. Eero is not the only one who believes that under fae and high fae should never mix.”
“And having the blessing of the Nicnevin would line Ciara up nicely to take her father’s place, wouldn’t it?” Drystan adds accusingly.
Better her than Máel,I silently think to myself.
It’s becoming abundantly clear that I don’t need to like the minor royals, but I do need them. Ciara seems the more tolerable of the two, and at least she would dedicate herself to trampling the rampant elitism in her court.
“Done,” I agree, before Drystan or the others can say anything. “But I will choose the ambassador, and your ceremony will take place at a time of my choosing.”
I’ve had enough of being dependent on the whims of the minor royals.
Four
Rhoswyn
“Please, would you let us into the palace?” I ask, hardly daring to breathe as the two guards on the servant’s entrance stare me down in shock.
They never expected the Nicnevin, two Fomorians, and a severed head to drop their invisibility glamour in front of them. They certainly don’t expect a wave of powerful charm magic.
So they’re defenceless and docile as they open the door.
“Please don’t sound the alarm or let anyone know we were ever here,” I add shakily, as Caed and Prae brush past them. “Just return to your jobs.”
I let my stranglehold on my bond to Danu drop as I hurry after the Fomorians, tugging a new glamour over the three of us as we scurry into the heart of the Summer Court. It’s too easy. In comparison to the gauntlet that was making our way back through the city, using Drystan’s ability to see auras to keep out of the way of patrols, this seems almost suspiciously quiet.
“I don’t like this,” I murmur.
Maeve, beside me, gives my shoulder a cold squeeze that makes my skin prickle. “The majority of his forces are scouring the eastern roads,” she reminds me, “And those that aren’t will be distracted by the merrows.”
I sigh, nodding at the reminder. Cyreus’s allies are busy securing our horses and supplies to leave the Summer Court. A few are even riding away from the city in different directions, wearing a glamour to make them look like me.
Eero’s people will be scouring meadows looking for multiple different Nicnevins. I make a tempting target, alone and unguarded. No one sane would expect me to return to Siabetha with two Fomorians and break my Guard out of the dungeons.
The one good thing about staying in this vipers’ nest for two weeks is that I know the corridors by heart. I lead the way into the torch-lit palace with a confidence I barely feel.
If this goes wrong… No. I can’t even think like that. I’m scared enough.
We pass countless soldiers and servants. Despite our glamour, I hold my breath each time, but they’re not looking for us.
“The dungeon is down there,” I whisper, handing Drystan’s head to Prae as I double check that the corridor we’re in is deserted. “Will you be okay?”
“It’s hardly our first break out from a fae dungeon,” she says dryly. “At this point, I’m practically a professional.”
Caed smirks, but the expression fades as he turns to consider me. “I don’t like leaving you alone.”
He made this argument three times during our planning, and I shouldn’t be surprised he’s brought it up again now.
My logic remains the same. “Bree wouldn’t want you to be there.”
The púca is charmed not to fear me, but Caed? That’s a different story. And if Máel really was one of his ‘patrons’ fromthe Toxic Orchid, I don’t think Bree will want anyone to see whatever state she’s left him in.
“I think he’d like you unprotected less,” the Fomorian presses.
