Page 133 of Atop the Faerie Throne
Drystan’s hands fall to his sides as Caed approaches, and his frustration hits me all over again. It’s been a constant barrage since he returned. Every time it’s obvious that he’s missing out on a conversation, his muscles tense and he either stalks off or shuts down.
Prae has promised to try to work with the fae to create something that might help him, but so far the only reliable method for communicating anything is using the bond and my emotions. Obviously, that’s far from perfect, but it works… most of the time.
While Kitarni and I have been studying, my males have been sparring. Oddly, watching them has been calming.
Caed and Drystan might not be at full strength, but they’re no slouches either. I have to remember that Drystan survived decades without his head before, and Caed’s lived through the Deep Caves twice.
“You should get your armour on,” Bree says, dropping down from the sky in a blur of black feathers, and I grimace as I notice he’s already wearing his. “Do you need help?”
I shake my head, lifting Drystan’s hand to my lips and kissing it in farewell. “No. Maeve’s already offered.”
My guides have been quiet for most of the journey, giving me and my mates time to get used to our new dynamic. I could use some time with them, and who knows? Maybe today they’ll have some words of wisdom that might help.
The plan might be simple, but we all know the execution will be anything but. Thoughts of what could go wrong chase me down into my small cabin, but the moment I close the door, they’re all with me, filling the space.
“Are you afraid, dear heart?” Titania asks, as I head for the pile of dark armour laid out on my bed and start trying to slip it over my tunic.
It’s enchanted to be light as a feather, which is good because otherwise I’d have no chance of flying while wearing it. That also means the weight that lands on my shoulders is entirely emotional.
“Yes.” I can admit it to them, even if I can’t say the words to my Guard or the rest of my court. “I don’t want to go back down there.”
I never wanted to return to Fellgotha again. I certainly never wanted to be an invader.
“You were born for this, kid,” Maeve tells me solemnly, as she takes over buckling the armour at my shoulders. “You can do this, and when shit happens, you’ll deal with it.”
It’s not me I’m worried about.
I can die and return safe and sound to Danu’s Cave in Elfhame. My mates have no such luxury. If this fails, and they can’t escape, they’ll be trapped here until I find a way to free them. Caed could die. Drystan might become lost in the Deep Caves and never find his way out.
There are Fomorians, tunnel wyrms, and iron to worry about.
“Place your faith in the Goddess,” Titania advises, lacing the bracer on my left arm with deft fingers. “And your magic.”
“Even if the iron prevents you from using your powers, you have your sword,” Mab says, pulling me in for a rare hug. “And we will never abandon you, even if we can’t help.”
I know.
They’ve stood by my side and faced down death with me before, and they’ll do it again.
“I love you,” I tell them all, honestly. “I’m so grateful that you’ve always been here.”
Maeve and Titania join the hug without warning, surrounding me.
“Before I do this, can I ask you something?” I say, as we break apart, and I start lacing up the bracer on my other arm.
“Of course,” Titania promises, bending to help with my greaves next.
“Why did Danu send me you three and not my mother?”
They still as one, sharing a silent look.
“Diana has always been with you where it matters, dear heart,” Titania whispers. “Just as we were for our daughters. Love never truly dies, but there are rules that bind even a divinity. A Nicnevin may know no mother save the Goddess.”
“We’ve already pushed that rule as far as it will go,” Maeve adds. “Our reigns have ended. Danu made it clear that we were to guide and not interfere. It would be much more difficult for Diana, who knew so many of the fae you’ve met and might’ve tried to sway your views of them.”
“Likeyoudid with Cressida.” Mab rolls her eyes. “The Goddess was far too lenient with you for that.”
“Cress was being a dick,” Maeve grunts. “And Rose needed a teacher.”
