Page 42 of Atop the Faerie Throne
The light of the moon glimmers on the pond in the centre of the palace district, making it easier to see the crater and piles of rubble beside it. I remember the wolf talking about the secret passageway to Orvendel, and how the knights had likely collapsed it. Well, if there’s one thing my people excel at, it’s dealing with cave-ins and tunnels.
It may once have led to the lake, but the Fomorians have had access to it for weeks. It could go anywhere by now.
Worse, my father is heading right for it while his troops keep Bree back. The mere sight of him locks my magic away, and I grip the silver sword in my hand tighter.
Running away? After everything that he’s done?
“Coward!” I yell after him. “Get back here and face us!”
“Caedmon—”
Bree’s magic mangles the rest of the words, and Elatha’s expression turns thunderous. He makes a vulgar gesture with his fist and arm that roughly translates to ‘I fucked your whore mother,’ then raises Balor’s Medallion in defiance as he turns and strides away.
Fuck.
He cannot be allowed to take that thing back to Fellgotha.
We cut through the soldiers, but he’s too far away, already disappearing down the steps into the tunnel. Warriors are pouring in our direction from the main gate and the palace, their shouts filling the air until I can barely hear myself think. In the mayhem, a flail strikes my calf, and I hiss. We’re already overwhelmed, and this will only get worse.
Bree summons his snake, his legs disappearing in that massive tail. I’ve been crushed by that thing twice now, but he’s too busy using it to sweep away the Fomorians crowding us. His cat ears flick this way and that, and I hope he can see a way out of this from up there.
“Any ideas?” I ask, parrying a blow.
My ghost swords reappear, making battle easier, but my jaw clenches at the implication.
We’re losing him.
“We should return to Rose,” Bree yells down.
“It might be too late for that.”
“Cover your ears!”
Bree’s weapons disappear into black smoke in a suicidal move that has me questioning his sanity, but the reasoning becomes clear as he raises his forefinger and thumb to his mouth and produces the loudest, most ear-piercing whistle I’ve ever heard.
Ancestors’balls.
My hands slam over my ears, but I can already feel the blood slick and warm beneath my hands. The noise scramblesmy thoughts, and my swords temporarily vanish as I struggle to regain my composure. His tail slips around my waist and drags me out of danger towards the pond. The last time we were in this position, he was crushing me to death, so I’m pleasantly surprised when he sets me down at the entrance to the tunnel without breaking my ribs.
“I’m right behind you,” he swears, his tail lashing out to swipe some of the recovering Fomorians back.
A crossbow bolt slams into his chest. The impact jerks him backward.
“Fuck!” I curse, though I can’t really hear the word past the ringing in my skull.
My swords swipe out, but all I’m doing is removing obstacles between the arbalist and their next shot.
Something that’s proven when a second bolt slams into Bree and his tail dissipates. His head cracks against a rock as he falls, and I have to thrust myself between him and the club about to cave his skull in. I misjudge it, catching the blow with my forearm instead of my blade. My bones shatter beneath the force, and I roar in pain.
Thank the Goddess I have six swords that don’t require the use of my hands, because it takes all the strength in my remaining good arm to drag him towards the tunnel.
“You’re fucking heavy!” I tell him, propping him up just inside the entrance and yanking out the bolt closest to his heart so he can begin to heal.
Reaching into my pocket, I gather as many of the canisters there as I can in one hand, then fling Prae’s tiny explosives blindly. My shattered arm screams as I shove Bree into the tunnel, diving after him just in time for the explosions to shake the ground above us.
Goddess, I love my cousin.
Wait…
