Page 124 of Atop the Faerie Throne
So he’s told me, many times. But I’m no longer a boy begging for help to survive my parents’ stupid war. I’m a grown male.
“I need to enter the Otherworld.”
That stumps him. His jaw goes slack, and he runs a hand through the battle-mussed tresses of his long hair.
“Can it be done?” I press.
He paces away, then back. “There are only two places where fae may cross to and from the Otherworld. The first is Danu’s Cave, which is unreachable to all save the Nicnevin.”
“And the other is on Samhain, when we open the way. I know. But can it be done outside of Samhain? Can I do it now? I don’t need to get hundreds of spirits through. I just need to speak to the Goddess.”
“Even if it were possible, only the dead may cross. If you wish to petition the Lady, find a Temple and do it the normal way.”
“That’s not what I asked,” I snap. “You know I wouldn’t try if it weren’t important.”
We’re caught in a staring match, my shoulders heaving as my breath fogs the space between us.
Archie was Lord of the Wild Hunt for centuries before I was born. He must know. He’s the only one who would.
“Our fire is the Goddess’s own,” Archie reminds me, his tone grim. “It’s what allows our bone weapons to pierce the veil, and what enables us to destroy spirits.” He pauses. “Theoretically, yes. If you channelled enough power… But no ordinary Lord of the Hunt could.” My fists clench, but he’s not done. “However, a Lord Huntsman mated to the Nicnevin, with the Goddess’s own magic at his fingertips, might just stand a chance.”
With one final wink and a farewell nod, he disappears into the darkness.
Blizzard whinnies nervously behind me, and I take a deep steadying breath, looking up at the faint dancing light in the sky one last time before I take off my head and use the braids to tie it onto my belt. Not quite as elegant a solution as the loose woven bag I usually prefer, but it’ll do.
Rose was so out of it when I left. There’s no telling if she’ll be able to link me to the Goddess, but I don’t want to go back there and get their hopes up.
If this doesn’t work, I don’t want to crush her again.
The whip slides out of my arm without a thought, my flames coating it as I reach inward and tug gently on the mating bond. My request goes unanswered, and I hate myself a little more as I yank insistently a second time.
I can’t risk drawing from her life force right now, but I need her to channel Danu’s magic for me.
Still nothing. My mate is an empty abyss on the other side of our bond. I roll my shoulders, reminding myself that I’m doing thisforher, before letting my third request become a stubborn demand.
It works, breaking through her numbness long enough to get her attention. Anyone else would refuse out of spite, but this is Rhoswyn, the most infuriatingly compassionate and selflessNicnevin ever created. She sends a sluggish tendril of power toward me, and I grab it, combining the extra magic with my own until my body starts to grow uncomfortably warm.
It’s not enough. I draw more, scorching the floor as I channel as much of the Goddess’s own power into the whip until it’s a white hot and glowing coil in my hand. Sparks fly as I flex my wrist, releasing the length and giving the vertebrae an experimental twist.
The first snap of bone against the veil is loud, but ineffective. I grit my teeth as the impact travels up and into my shoulder, jarring tendons that protest loudly.
Not enough? Fine.
I draw even more from my mate, gathering it up until it feels like I might burst from the effort of holding it, then drive every ounce of it into my next lash. The impact forces me to take a step back, white sparks flying everywhere.
Yet when I look again, a spiderweb crack has appeared in the night sky.
“Stop this,” a harsh female voice orders. “You break what you do not understand, Lord Huntsman.”
Perhaps the redcap has rotted my brain, but all I can hear is that I’m close.
Bracing myself for a third strike, I take a deep breath and flex my wrist, only for the crack to race outwards before I can let fly. The warmth and peace of the Otherworld slaps me in the chest, just like it always does, but this time something older, vaster, and much more furious accompanies it.
Perhaps I won’t have to cross the veil to seek an audience with the Goddess. It appears she’s chosen to come to me.
An unseen hand shoves me to my knees, and then down to my elbows, and lower still until my shadowy face is pressed into the stone beneath me, and I groan under the pressure. Like this, my head has swung uselessly to face the far wall, and I can’tmove my arm to fix the angle without risking my bones snapping under Danu’s strength.
“There are many sacred laws written into the fabric of this realm, and yet you have the gall to violate no less than three of them to seek an audience.”
