Page 135 of Atop the Faerie Throne
“The reward comes after, when you let me loose. I’ll pin you to the bed and fuck your sopping, used, over-sensitive cunt until you scream so loudly that they can hear you across all five courts.”
And then, without even letting the image sink in, he blinks us both to the deck.
So not only am I mercilessly turned on by his words, I’m also standing in front of dozens of armoured troops, including my brothers, along with other familiar faces.
Ambassador Neila and her new mate are to my left, with the Hellebore Knights. Cyreus heads a small contingent of merrows and a larger group of golden-armoured Summer Court warriors, and of course, Florian’s knights are here, too.
My cheeks burn as I glare at my redcap, who removes his hand with a devious little grin, his triumph hitting me in a wave that makes his diabolical intention clear.
There’s no room for a crisis of confidence if you’re dying of embarrassment.
“Warriors of Faerie,” Jaro calls, tugging me against his side. “Today we end the scourge that has ripped families apart for generations.”
“Keep complimenting us, wolf,” Caed mutters and gets an elbow to the gut for it.
Sensing this could go badly, I step forward, out of Jaro’s arms.
“This is not a slaughter, nor a quest for vengeance,” I remind them all evenly. “The last few years have been hard on all of us, but Danu has made it clear that there is a place in her realm for those Fomorians who will bend the knee. Grant mercy to those who ask for it, free any of our people you find, and honour the terms of surrender, knowing that justice will prevail when the sun rises on a united Faerie.”
Who knows if my words make a difference? Many will die either way. At least now that I’ve said that, my conscience is a little lighter.
I let my words hang in the air, and Kitarni takes her space beside me.
“Goddess bless her loyal warriors,” she intones, wearing loose armour of her own, despite the fact that she’s remaining on the ship. “And Goddess bless Nicnevin Rhoswyn.”
“Goddess bless the Nicnevin!” The gathered warriors slam their weapons over their chests in a deafening crash that’s thankfully swallowed by the equally loud weather.
Jaro shifts, and I can’t help double checking that his charm is still stuck to the fur between his shoulders. Dare used his magic to ensure that the tiny metal disc will stay in place, keeping my wolf just as protected as the rest of us.
My gut somersaults, but this is it. There’s no turning back when every single fae with wings is already taking to the rain-lashed sky, myself, Florian, and Bree included.
All around us, the army bursts forth from dozens of glamoured ships. Prae, Gryffin, and Drystan lead those who can’t fly onto the rowboats, while others shift into animals and follow Jaro and Lore’s agile path across the rocks. It’s an awe-inspiring sight for all of three seconds before they disappear, glamours hiding them from view.
I don’t think it’s necessary just yet, but I’m grateful for the sense of safety it provides as I wind my fingers with Bree’s. Caed and Prae were both adamant that the Fomorians have never bothered to assign sentries beyond the cave’s entrance. Why would they when these are the first ships to make it across the Endless Sea without being torn to shreds?
The only reason we were able to was because of the refugees. Some of them even returned to fight alongside us and are now sticking like glue to an assigned fae partner who can share their glamour. That tactic was Prae’s suggestion. This way, one of the pair can use magic, and the other can deal with any iron obstacles that they come across.
It should be a relief when the rain stops beating down against my skin, but I shiver instead as the black clouds are replaced with a rocky sky gleaming with blue mushrooms.
We’re here.
Forty-Four
Rhoswyn
If my mates are shocked by the gem-filled water beneath them or the glowing bitterblues above, it doesn’t show. I can’t see them, but their bonds are locked down with steely determination.
The Fomorians on the docks are overwhelmed.
One by one, they fall, invisible knives finding arteries with quiet precision. The fae slaves working in shackles around them duck, shielding their heads like they expect to be next.
Danu finally stirs at the sight of them, tugging and demanding inside of me, and I let her take over as the guards at the lift slump and gurgle their last breaths.
My glamour drops, and my skin starts to glow.
This was not the plan, but the Goddess doesn’t care, and neither do the fae below. Their shackles are being undone by invisible hands, the iron wire untwisted from around their wings as they stare up at me in pure adulation. Whispered prayers fill the air as they take up whatever weapons they can find, andDanu’s satisfaction burns bright as she relinquishes control, and I tug the glamour back over myself.
She’s started a slave uprising.
