Page 60 of Atop the Faerie Throne
I drop my head into my hand, because it’s almost like Prae istryingto rile him up.
“What?” Florian takes a step forward until the pommel of his own sword is butting against his chest.
“Take the damned weapon,” Prae says.
“Only if it’s to make you a widow,” Florian promises, flicking the handle away.
“Drop the act. You only wanted me to have it so you could use your magic to find me after this was over. Did you think I didn’t know?”
Florian doesn’t deny it. “Are you going to tell me you didn’t plan on running away?”
My brows rise as the pieces fall together. Florian’s magic is dowsing—the gift of finding lost things—but Prae is a Fomorian and immune to a lot of fae magics. I’m also pretty sure he’s right.She would’ve run from her mating with Gryffin, too, but the circumstances didn’t allow it.
All this time, his sword was his way of keeping track of her?
“And if you knew, why take it in the first place?” Florian adds, gruffly. “I don’t understand you, Praedra. Every time I think we’re getting somewhere?—”
“You pull some shit like trying to get my cousin charmed into servitude,” Prae finishes for him. “I haven’t forgotten that.”
He bristles. “It would have saved his life. It would’ve spared you the pain of losing him like I lost Bram.”
Goddess, and there it is, a dull echo of pain that catches me off guard and steals my breath.
“Well, if you’d just let him out of the dungeon and taken him at his word?—”
“Goddess,” Gryffin interrupts, laughing. “You two need to just fuck already.”
Silently, I agree with him, but I say nothing besides darting between them and taking the sword for myself.
“Sorry,” I apologise. “I’m too tired to keep healing everyone.”
It’s the truth, but also, they’re here to sort out more than just the ownership of a stupid sword.
Florian’s brows crease in concern, but I hold my hand up for silence.
“I need you three to sort this out, so I can head downstairs to deal with the minor royals, knowing that my Court will take care of everything else.” I swallow but keep my tone level as I list off the rest of our problems. “The city is covered in iron, the summer king is in open rebellion against the crown, and Elatha escaped, despite everything we did.” I pause, taking a deep breath. “None of that is your fault, but I’m asking you to be kind to one another and resolve this, because I need all three of you.”
Florian gives me a sombre nod, before turning back to Prae. “You told Rose everything?”
“Yeah, it kinda fell out during the whole mess…” Prae shuffles her feet. “But that doesn’t mean you get to shove me into fae dresses and parade me around like a stuffy princess.”
“Tell me you weren’t going to stop her from wearing her sexy little outfits?” Gryffin tuts.
Florian grinds his teeth together. “I simply made the point that it would be hard to integrate her as a princess of the realm if she continued?—”
“You can’t be serious! The Siabethan nobles wear less on a cold day. And why would you ever want to cover her perfect tits?”
Florian’s eyes fall to the single strip of fabric currently covering Prae’s nipples, and I groan because that’s my brother and I don’t need to know what he thinks of her breasts.
My wings flutter impatiently, and I stroke Jaro’s arm around my waist to calm myself. He nuzzles his mark on my neck in response, and I remind myself to be patient.
Their relationship and happiness are important to me. Everything else will wait.
“Nicnevin,” Florian addresses me with strained formality. “I’d like your blessing on our mating ceremony?—”
“That’s presumptuous,” Prae objects.
“I’ve given you five years of space, Praedra. You objected to mating a fae prince. Since you’ve obviously overcome that hurdle?—”
