Page 18 of Atop the Faerie Throne
“I trust you,” I say simply. “Besides, if I’m already mated, Elatha can’t use me to legitimise his claim to the throne of Faerie. I’ll be safer than I ever was before, and more powerful. So will you.”
He’s not looking at me, but he pinches the bridge of his nose in a way that suggests I should back off, so I let him think it over for a second and turn to Jaro and Bree.
“Is your only objection that you think I want a bigger ceremony? No—don’t look at each other like that. Just answer me.”
The two of them stop midway through some silent conversation.
Bree breaks the silence first. “You’ve had to settle for so much. Nothing about your reign has been as it should. The war, the years in the mortal realm, your iron sensitivity, your fever… Even your Guard is far from perfect.” He looks away sharply. “You should at least have the perfect mating celebration.”
Jaro nods emphatically. “Exactly. You should have your family there, and?—”
I launch myself into his arms, claiming his lips with my own to shut him up before doing the same to Bree, but much slower, so as not to spook him. Of course, Lore can’t be left out and drags me away from my púca seconds later.
“I want to mate you, all of you.” I turn back to Drystan, bracing myself for more resistance. “And I know you can help me make this plan work.”
His nostrils flare. “You’ll be stuck with Caed, even if Elatha orders him to hate you for all eternity. There are huge ramifications to being mated to someone who’s lost their name. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
Growing up watching Ashton and Cedwyn’s fucked-up relationship has definitely left an impression on him. But this isn’t the same.
Caed won’t be under Elatha’s thumb for much longer.
He’smine. I’ll drive the point home to his father with every ghost in Faerie if I have to.
I take a deep, steadying breath, working to calm the instinctive surge of possessiveness that’s half me, half Danu. “I know. I trust you to keep us both safe.”
He huffs out something that sounds oddly like half a laugh. “That makes one of us…”
Is he going to say yes? I know my hope is shining in my eyes, and I can’t bring myself to hide it.
Drystan starts to pace, and Lore’s cap morphs on my head, becoming a bridal flower crown with a scarlet lace veil that obscures my vision, forcing me to lift it to watch them.
“Cut it out, redcap.” Drystan paces away from us again, waving his hand in aggravation. “If we do this, there are serious security?—”
“That’s a yes!” Lore cheers and actually tries to hug Drystan. “He said yes.”
“I said ‘if’!” Drystan shoves him away with a look of distaste. “Ifis notyes. Can you watch Rose live a life of misery, mated to a male who tries to break her at every turn? You saw what that did to my mother and Cedwyn.”
Reluctantly, I abandon Jaro’s arms and catch Drystan’s hand. “You don’t have to say yes,” I tell him, because it’s true, he doesn’t.
It’s not just me trapped in a relationship with Caed if this ends badly. I won’t condemn them to that if they have reservations.
“But,” I continue. “I think Hawkith and I are very different females.”
Or at least, I really, really hope we are. No part of me wants to be anything like her.
Drystan runs a hand through his braids, messing them without care as he sighs. “This may be the most selfish thing I’ve ever done. Fine. But before we do that, I want a solid plan for every second we spend in Elfhame?—”
“Yes!” Lore has a knife out already, the blade pricking his skin before Jaro yanks it away.
“Not now,” the wolf snarls. “The Fomorian isn’t even here.”
My redcap pouts, then blows a raspberry as he flings the knife in my wolf’s direction. “Urgh, if you’re boring, just say so.”
Seven
Rhoswyn
“This is all very rushed,” Kitarni mumbles, as she lights the incense burners in the temple ante-chamber. “Goddess, Rose, are you sure?”
