Page 5 of Atop the Faerie Throne
Drystan is actively avoiding me and has been since I asked Lore to take Caed to the Court of Blades to recover two days ago.
I don’t really blame him. I’ve spent so much time making such a big deal of staying neutral about Danu’s curse, and nowthishappens. I’m such a hypocrite.
The instant where I believed Caed had betrayed me tore my heart out. I didn’t realise it would hurt so much. It couldn’t have done so if I didn’t love him.
Danu. It’s not like I meant for it to happen.
“Why so glum, pretty pet?” Lore asks, from his position, crouched atop Roark’s table while he snacks on an apple from the fruit bowl.
“He’s not ready yet,” I say, instead of directly answering him.
Tonight is the night Hawkith and Cedwyn are being laid to rest. Ashton has ordered it to be a quiet affair, partly out of sympathy for Drystan, and also out of spite for his brother.
I’m glad.
A long, protracted mourning period isn’t what anyone needs right now, and I’m not sure that my mate or his uncle truly wish to grieve either of them. At least, not in the conventional way.
Cedwyn and Hawkith weren’t easy people to love. Still, they were Drystan’s parents, no matter how toxic that relationship was. Goddess only knows how he’s feeling right now.
“Want me to fetch him for you?” The redcap blinks to my side, kissing my temple, but I grab him before he can follow up on his suggestion.
“No. He needs time… How’s Caed?”
“Still paralysed and in agony!” Lore gushes. “This isfascinating. I’ve never seen anyone live so long after a bite from a nathair. I’ve set Widders the task of recording his reactions. For science.”
Caed can’t die, and yet there’s no antidote. I wanted to heal him, but apparently all that would do is allow the venom to eat away at his organs all over again. Worse still, he’s too out of it to stop himself from drawing on me. More than once, I’ve had to discreetly send him the Goddess’s energy down the bond when the urge becomes impossible to ignore, but even that doesn’t do much.
There’s nothing we can do but wait for the venom to run its course, and I hate it.
“Can you check on him while we’re gone?” I ask Lore.
He salutes, grinning, and blinks away.
I know Prae won’t leave her cousin’s side, but I don’t have the luxury of doing the same right now.
The hair on the back of my neck prickles with the force of my dullahan’s disapproval.
“He deserves worse.”
Was he waiting for Lore to leave, or was the timing just a coincidence?
My shoulders slump, but I pray Drystan doesn’t notice as I stand, turning to fix him with what I hope is a sympathetic smile. “Are you ready?”
Right now, I want to focus on being there for him. It’s not like Caed is going anywhere.
“You don’t have to come,” Drystan replies.
He makes for the door, his fingers fastening his black furs around his shoulders with swift efficiency. I chose a long white dress—the fae colour of mourning—but he wastes no time in covering it with my own dove-grey cloak, double checking the buttons before opening the door and ushering me out of Roark’s apartment and onto the snowy street.
“I won’t leave you to face it alone,” I insist, struggling to match his pace.
“There are better uses of your time.”
“Like what?”
Winter is mobilising its troops. The plans are set. Unless he knows something I don’t, I have very little to do besides grant audiences and fret over everything that can go wrong.
The stairs are slippery, but Drystan’s pace never falters, and I hurry after him with far less grace.
