Page 102 of Atop the Faerie Throne
I can’t tell if the heaviness I feel as I approach the palace gates is my armour, or just the knowledge that every step is taking me closer to the inevitable. Ice flows through my veins as I stop and fix my eyes on the two soldiers clutching their spears like they can’t decide whether they should use them.
“You’ve heard what I did to the Fomorians who invaded my city,” I begin, unable to keep the Goddess from my words. “Do you really want to stand between me and the male who murdered my brother?”
To punctuate that statement, I draw enough power to manifest Maeve and Titania, both of them clasping their own weapons.
The first one actually drops his spear in his haste to bow, falling to his knees. The other glances over my shoulder, swallowing as he takes in my Guard, the expectant crowd, and then looks back at me.
Please, Goddess, just move, I beg him silently.
When he thrusts his spear down in anger, I breathe a visible sigh of relief.
Maeve steps forwards, cricking her neck. “Shall I do the honours?”
“Please do,” Lore begs. “This is the most boring king-spanking ever.”
From the other side, I hear shouting. The wood is juddering, and I can imagine the soldiers trying desperately to reinforce it. Danu’s power spirals out of me, filling Maeve. She places one hand on either gate andshoves.
The males behind the door fall backwards, the wood of their barricade splintering under her strength and Danu’s power. Those who manage to regain their feet have their weapons drawn, but I refuse to take more lives than I have to.
“Please drop your weapons and step aside.” The charm is so thick in my voice I can taste it.
Some of them struggle, but the clamour of metal hitting the gravel of the gardens beyond is loud. Behind me, gasps ring out as the fae following me finally learn what their Nicnevin’s seelie magic is capable of.
No time to think about that now.
There are soldiers on the wall who haven’t been hit by my magic. Jaro’s golden shield covers my back as arrows fly, and Titania returns fire without hesitation.
Drystan’s fire whips up in a circle, forcing the fae back, leaving the space around me clear in all directions as I walk calmly into the great gardens before the palace. The scent of smoke and blood churns my stomach, but I force myself to keep going, to keep breathing.
Lore whoops, his glee through the bond at finally being able to shred my enemies matched with my determination to make this fast to limit the carnage. From the corner of my eye, I see the Summer Court soldiers turning on each other, their loyalty to their Nicnevin overcoming their loyalty to their king.
That’s not what I wanted, but I suppose hoping otherwise was naïve.
The white of my tunic and palest silver of my breastplate stand out from the sea of golden armour as I move through them. That was the point.
This has to be a spectacle to silence any doubts that Eero and Mervyn have sown in the minds of the people. His trial has to be swift enough that he has no time to prepare or escape and public enough that word spreads. There will be no second civil war.
Plenty of fae are still staring at me, so I lean on my charm a second time.
“Please bring Eero to me so he can stand trial before Danu for the crime of high treason.”
The soldiers, who moments ago were rushing me with their weapons drawn, disperse, heading for the palace. Drystan, Caed, and Lore abandon the fight to stalk after them.
It’s unlikely that Eero will be able to fight off so many, even with his magic and his bodyguards, but I funnel more and more of the Goddess’s power to my Guard as their backs disappear beyond the palace doors.
Now all I can do is wait.
It’s hard not to let my nerves show. Last time we almost didn’t make it out of this place. Still, I fix my gaze on theentrance, folding my arms as I turn my attention inward to where I can feel my Guard. Bree is quiet, focused, and intent in a way that makes me certain he’s still hunting his father. Jaro is with me, his wolf snarling with protectiveness; and the others…
The unseelie are enjoying this far too much. The satisfaction emanating from Drystan alone is enough to make me pity the summer king.
“There’s no shame in surrendering,” I say to the dwindling combatants around me, my voice louder and tinged with the power of the Goddess. “You need not die for that worm, hiding away in his tower while you fight his battles.”
I’m not sure the words have any impact, but it doesn’t matter. Those who put up a fight are slowly losing, anyway, and it isn’t long before both of my guides return to my side, followed swiftly by Jaro.
It’s only then that I have the courage to look back and see the fae gathered behind us. They’re muttering amongst themselves, and eyes drop wherever I look.
They’re afraid of me now.
