Page 47 of Atop the Faerie Throne
“No, actually.” Bree takes a spot beside him, voluntarily putting himself within arm’s reach of Drystan.
Only inches separate them, the distance smaller than any the púca has allowed previously.
“What happened?” I ask, kicking more of the black dust over the edge of the walkway in disgust. “He ran?”
“He took a crossbow bolt for me, then disappeared in a burst of flame that provided enough of a distraction for me to escape.” Bree swallows. “Rose’s symbol was branded on the ground.”
Which means Danu took him. “Shit.”
It was one thing for us to forgive him for Rose’s sake, but if the Goddess has had a change of heart, then she’ll be devastated.
Bree’s ears droop. “My sentiments exactly.”
“We won’t know for certain until Rose returns.” I really hope she does, because my chest aches, and my wolf is already giving me a headache.
“They can’t know she died,” Drystan says, breaking my train of thought.
“What?”
“The minor royals. Her iron sensitivity hasn’t come up, but if it does…”
Eero is a very good example of what could happen. There’s never been a Nicnevin with such a glaring weakness before. We all saw how she struggled during the battle, the little moments when her head hung with weakness before she managed to push past it.
“How do you plan to keep it from them?”
“With a distraction.”
Drystan starts to elaborate, but he’s forced to stop, hissing out a breath as our mating bonds sear back into being, echoing with the most harrowing pain I’ve ever experienced.
“Shit!” I curse, doubling over as my wolf goes berserk. “What’s happening to her?”
Bree shrugs, muscles stiff but otherwise coping much better with the agony than Drystan and I can.
Drystan’s eyes widen with a kind of sick realisation. “This is what she goes through whenever she chooses to revive instead of travelling to the Otherworld.”
No.
No way.
I suspected it was exhausting, given how we found her, but she never said it was literal torture… did she?
“Surely the Call—” I cut off, knowing in my gut that he’s right.
“The call was designed to tell us when she’s in danger. It was a surface-level bond compared to what we have now.” I have no idea how Bree looks so put together, but I suspect his façade is very close to crumbling, given how his ears have flattened against his skull.
Every time she chooses us—chooses to return—she faces this? Every time we’ve failed to protect her…
“When she gets back,” Drystan mutters. “We ask her.”
He’s older, which probably explains how he’s able to compartmentalise the pain so well. I’ve had my fair share of injuries in battle and training, but this is insane.
“How long does this go on for?” I’m about to throw up.
He turns on his heel, heading for the palace. “We need to find Kitarni. She must have some potions or tonics or something in that bag of hers that can dull this.”
The promise of any kind of relief has me stumbling after him, guilt chasing me. Rose can withstand this, and has done so multiple times, and yet here I am ready to barter my soul for the promise of any kind of relief.
“Did Kitarni know?” I wonder aloud, then shake my head.
