Page 2 of Atop the Faerie Throne
I’ll kill him. My beast’s head tilts, searching for the culprit now that we know our mate is safe. The Fomorian’s blood is everywhere, glittering on the ice like liquid rubies, and his broken sword is on the floor.
Caed’s motionless corpse is caught in the jaws of the nathair, whose fangs are still plunged deep into his abdomen. The creature’s head is practically on the ceiling, and his blue limbs hang limply.
The snake isn’t letting go of its prey any time soon. If anything, it clamps down harder when Caed releases a bloody gurgle, black foam spilling from his lips.
A nathair’s kiss is more painful than anything my wolf or I could do to punish him. Even the redcap would struggle to make Caed suffer more, if he were here and not searching for Florian amongst the refugees in Orvendel.
“He tried to trick me,” Bree murmurs, his voice raw and quiet. “He tried to take Rose.”
“You didn’t fall for it?” Drystan strides into the room, crouching a few paces away to examine our Nicnevin while giving Bree the respectful distance he prefers.
“I gave him a chance.” Bree sighs long and low. “I waited down the hall with a glamour to see if he’d do anything. When I heard a struggle, I returned and found him about to crush one of those.” He points at a glass leaf on the floor to our left. “He probably stole it from one of us while we weren’t looking.”
I cringe. The shame distracts my wolf enough that I finally manage to force him to shift back.
“Actually, that was me,” I admit, shivering without my fur. “I wanted him to have it in case she died and we were incapacitated again.”
“Your heart was in the right place, Jaromir.” Kitarni finally catches up with us, panting. She kneels on Bree’s other side, examining Rose carefully. “He used the sleeping draught I left for you. Luckily, I have an antidote.”
She reaches into her robes and draws out a small roll-up pouch. Her twig-like fingers unfurl it, flicking over the dozens of tiny vials strapped within before she finds the one she needs.
Bree shifts just enough for the dryad to lean in and tip three drops of vibrant green liquid between Rose’s parted lips. She’s so calm and collected, even with the tension leaking from the pores of every male around her.
Rose’s eyes scrunch as she yawns… but doesn’t wake.
Why isn’t she waking?
My wolf shoves forward, his anxiety matching my own. Fur brushes against the inside of my skin in warning.
“Give her a minute,” the dryad says, holding up a hand when I lean forward, desperate to snatch Rose from Bree’s arms.
Staying still right now is physically impossible. I make a beeline for the remains of the wardrobe in the corner, searching until I find a too-tight shirt that smells faintly of Drystan and apair of my own leathers. I’m still cold without anything on my feet, but it’s something.
“What do we do with him?” I ask, jerking a thumb at Caed, as if there could be any doubt who I mean.
“Chuck him in one of the cells,” Drystan grates. “No clothes. No blankets. If he falls…”
“Even better,” I finish.
I was actually starting to like the blue bastard. That was a mistake. Goddess, this is going to crush Rose.
My wolf whines softly, his aggression momentarily tempered by the thought.
“She won’t like it,” Bree says, looking up.
“We can’t trust him,” Drystan glowers. “This proves that. Even Rose can’t argue?—”
He cuts off as the púca’s breath catches, and my wolf drags my head down without warning.
Our little mate has woken up.
“What happened?” she asks, blinking dazedly.
Then, inevitably, she catches sight of Caed, and her breath leaves her in a rush. One delicate hand rises to cover her mouth, and her eyes fill with tears.
Shit. Not good.
Stupid, idiotic Fomorian. He must have known how this would hurt her.
