Page 23 of Beneath a Shattered Sky
The breath leaves my lungs in a rush, and I step back automatically. Lore is offering me the chance for revenge. To cutmy way through all of them and do to the Summer Court what I did to the whorehouses in Elfhame.
Pain for pain.
But it wasn’t enough before. It won’t be this time.
“I need Rose,” I whisper. “I can’t… I’m not…”
I don’t deserve her, now more than ever, but her presence is the only thing in this world that feels safe. The one thing which might stop me wanting to finish what Máel started and bathe in acid to erase the memory of the princess’s touch.
Lore’s red eyes twinkle, as he says, “Well, when courting a female, it’s best practice to either jazz up your dick, or wear clothes.”
It’s oddly reassuring to know he’s still certifiably insane.
Drystan hisses at him to shut up, but oddly enough, having my dick commented on by Lore distracts me from the room upstairs.
I look down at my nude body and shrug. Then, just to mess with him, I caress the snake tattoo on my arm.
“What. The. Fuck?” Caed snaps, as every eye in the room is magnetised to my cock.
Or rather, cocks.
Lore pouts. “I meant put some clothes on, not out-do me!”
“Poor female,” Prae mumbles under her breath, turning away. “Ancestors, there are some things I never needed to see.”
“Do you think I can find someone to graft an extra dick onto me?” Lore asks Drystan, his expression dead serious, eyes pleading. “We’re beingoutdone, dullahan. She’ll love him more if he has twice the cock to give.”
Sighing, I release the hold on Espen, and my cock returns to normal. As much as Lore might be worried, I won’t show Rose that particular trick. Even if, biologically speaking, only one of them is supposed to go inside a female at a time, every other fae has wanted nothing to do with the ‘dirty animal’ side of me.
Six
Rhoswyn
Ifall down on the sand the moment Lore leaves me, giving Cyreus one last distrustful glance. Residual nausea lingers in my throat from the iron, but I breathe through it as I search for Danu.
Banishing the voice that says Yvaine is too far gone, I find my connection to the Goddess as her fragile corpse appears in a blur of red beside me. The sea air thankfully dilutes the smell of her wound. The flesh is past gangrenous, and the pale dawn light doesn’t hide anything.
“Titania,” I whisper. “How are we doing this?”
My grandmother circles the banshee, tutting as she peers at the injury.
“A lot of this flesh is dead,” she mumbles. “The iron poisoning has allowed bacteria to infect the site. You’re going to have to cut it away so we can heal the main wound.”
My gut revolts at the idea, but I don’t have time to vomit.
“I need a knife,” I tell Lore, as he appears with Dare.
The redcap doesn’t hesitate, handing over a blade from his boot that fits nicely into my palm. The metal is cool, grounding me.
“What?” Dare asks, indecision flashing across his face.
Wordlessly, I take Titania’s left hand and place it on my shoulder, and my brother gasps as she comes into view.
“Tell me what to do,” I murmur. “Or… could you?”
She shakes her head. “I cannot perceive your world in the way I once did. It is better if you do it, or I might press too hard and hurt her.”
Taking a deep breath, I shuffle forward on my knees, using the knife tip to peel back the layers of fabric stuck to her.
