Page 109 of Across an Endless Sea

It’s an amazing accomplishment, given she was illiterate less than a month ago, and my chest swells with pride.

I’m so pleased for her that it takes me a second to realise nothing happened.

“Are you leaning on Danu’s power?” I ask.

She frowns, and a second later, the hairs on the back of my neck rise. The air fills with that meadow scent that doesn’t belong in the centre of a city—even this one.

“Arrin Orvendellion,” she repeats.

An outline shimmers. It’s there for barely a second, but I recognise the crested helm from museums. Whoever he is, he’s thousands of years old. Rose repeats his name again, and this time, his form takes true shape for a second. Long enough for the spirit to bow once.

“Why can’t I hold it?” she mutters to herself.

“You’re doing really well,” I insist. “Try another. Maybe a newer name might be easier.”

And so begins a day of walking the walls with Rose, watching as she starts the slow, tiring process of mastering her power. The more she practises, the better she gets, though she still struggles to hold more than one spirit in place for more than a matter of minutes. Still, watching her confidence grow is a gift. Like this, it’s easy to see the queen she’s going to be: One so devoted, determined, and stubborn that only a fool would stand in her way.

Thirty-Four

Caed

The journey across the Endless Sea is far worse as a stowaway than as the crown prince. I’ve done it once before; when I needed to get home after I took the oath and Danu’s cave spat my twelve-year-old self out in the middle of Elfhame.

I’m going in the opposite direction, and we’re not aboard a raiding vessel, but it feels just as dire as it was then. Marl and I survive on whatever Prae can sneak us from the rations, hiding in her cabin all day and draining my power to keep my glamour going. It’s a special kind of torment, but worse because I have no idea what to do now.

Running away seemed good in theory. Prae’s words at the time seemed sensible, and the threat of Danu’s curse—which still aches where it’s burned into my arm—pressured me into running. Now I can’t help but wonder if I wasn’t too hasty.

Perhaps my father would’ve cooled off and could’ve been persuaded out of his mad plan to mate Rose. Maybe he was just testing my loyalty. He knew my instincts would be going haywire. It was only right…

My head thunks against the steel wall of Prae’s cabin as I let out a low groan. Whatever my chances of taking back my place as crown prince, they disappeared when I got marked by Danu a second time and broke out of that cell. Or before that, when he was plotting to create a new heir to replace me.

An irrational part of me is angry. None of this was supposed to happen. I was supposed to take Rose to the king and finally outdo the ghost of Bres, earning my place by my father’s side. She was meant to bow. The war should have been over, and then maybe when I returned from conquering whatever pockets of fae resistance remained, he’d give her to me as a reward. She wasmymate, after all—even if Fomorians don’t have mates.

If she’d only bowed, his stupid plan to sire a new heir wouldn’t have been necessary.

Now that future is impossible. I’m doomed to exile, Rose is back with her perfect fairy mates, and all I have to show for my efforts is a tattoo that’s stolen my fucking powers.

In a year’s time, when the Goddess—who’s never given a shit about me before—decides to loose her hounds and hunt me to death, it won’t even be a challenge. I have one ally, no resources, and only iron to defend myself.

Thinking about how things should have gone is stupid. I know that. But remembering Rose’s expression as she fucking stabbed herself in front of me, or musing over what fate awaits us in Faerie, is worse.

Marl and I have been cramped in the cabin, keeping quiet for most of the trip. There’s not much room, so he’s grabbed a piece of fur to protect himself from the iron and dragged it beneath Prae’s bed. The shadows have camouflaged his dark fur, and he hasn’t shifted back once. I’m grateful, because it means I have to waste less of my feeble glamour on him, but at the same time, some fucking company might’ve been nice.

He hasn’t explained what he meant about having a sister, and every time I try to make conversation, he growls at me.

What happened to the peaceful hermit who looked after me as a kid? I’ve been racking my brain for any memory of a fae female who looks like him, but I can’t think of any. I’ve been too busy invading Elfhame to concern myself with slaves.

The door opens, and I draw the glamour back around myself, but it’s just Prae, so I let it drop again.

“There’s only a few more hours until we reach land,” she says. “Have you got any idea what you’re going to say to Rose to get her to forgive you?”

“Forgiveme?” I demand. “She’s the one who got us into this mess. Before she arrived, I was going to conquer Elfhame and earn the King’s respect once and for all. Then she had to go and—OUCH! Marl, what was that for?!”

The black fox stares at me, yellow eyes narrowed. My blood drips from his mouth before he dashes back beneath the bed.

Prae snaps her fingers in my face. “The fox has a point. You’re being an ass if you think you have anyone but yourself to blame for this whole situation. When we first captured her, Itoldyou to make absolutely sure that giving her to your father was what you wanted. You brought this on yourself.”

“What was I supposed to do?” I retort. “Wander back to Elfhame, hand her over, and sit in a cell for centuries? Fat chance.”

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