Page 115 of Across an Endless Sea

Florian’s head snaps around, his focus leaving Bram as he turns to regard the two of us. I cringe, waiting for his censure, or for him to remind me that she almost killed him.

“Nicnevin,” he says, his tone surprisingly measured. “Praedra is not known for keeping her word, and she killed you. I’m not sure it’s wise—”

Something in the look I shoot him silences him. “Prae was the only Fomorian in Fellgotha who never hurt me or made me feel afraid,” I say. “I hate that she hurt you, so if you truly object, I’ll rescind the offer, but she took a challenge to protect me. To repay that debt, I granted her a place in my court, and I intend to honour that.”

I look back at Kitarni, who smiles encouragingly. We’ve been talking about my court in my lessons since my return. Every fae monarch has one, made up of those they trust and their sworn knights, who serve as advisers. The Nicnevin’s court is a little different; my Guard, high priestess, and the knight commander have guaranteed positions, but I’m still expected to add others. Prae feels like a good first choice.

Florian’s mouth drops, then snaps closed. I wait for him to press the matter, or insist that he doesn’t want her. When he doesn't, everyone in the room turns to look at Prae.

The offer is generous. No Fomorian has ever been part of a fae court, though there are no laws against it—I suspect solely because my ancestors never thought it was a possibility. Despite that, I know what Prae’s going to say, even before her good eye flits to rest on Caed’s back. She may not have been as much of an asshole to me as Caed and the rest of the Fomorians, but she’s still loyal to her cousin.

“Let’s just see how this plays out,” she mutters.

That’s not a no. Unfortunately, her answer doesn’t banish the tension in my muscles, because I now have no choice but to deal with him.

I close my eyes briefly, taking a deep breath. “Go on then,” I whisper, meeting his eyes. “Get this over with.”

“You’ve dismissed me already,” Caed growls. “I haven’t even spoken and you’ve made your decision.”

Grimacing, I turn away. “No, Caed. You have. If you’re about to open your mouth and ask for forgiveness, or tell me you’ve seen the error of your ways, then I know you’re lying.” I point at his arms. “If you were serious about apologising, you wouldn’t have worn iron into my home. How many times were my wings burned by those things?”

The delicate appendages in question shuffle nervously against my spine, and I check my glamour, relieved to find it’s still in place. Logically, I know the illusion is no real form of protection. Should someone wish, they could still grab them and rip them from my back, but I’ll cling to the delusion for as long as it takes for the memory of Elatha breathing down my spine to fade.

“They’re important to me,” Caed argues. “I earned them, and they’ve got nothing to do with the fact that your damned goddess fucking cursed me.”

Hisses go around the room at the insult to Danu, and I rub at my temples, already regretting this.

“If you were cursed, it was earned.” Kitarni stands, approaching him. “The Goddess is not cruel without reason.”

The dryad circles Caed, tracing the lines of his marks with her eyes. On either side of him, Cailu and Elduin tense, ready to protect their high priestess, but Caed does nothing.

“Tell us how it happened,” Kitarni encourages, taking his hand on her second pass and rotating his arm. “Danu must have set terms.”

“She said…” Caed looks at me, then glances at the rest of my males with a wary look. “That I had until Beltaine to earn the trust and forgiveness of the rest of the Guard, and if Rose dies during that time and Danu decides I’m responsible, she’ll dissolve my oath and leave you lot to kill me.”

I lean back on the throne, frowning.

So the curse has nothing to do with me? I don’t get a say at all?

Only, I suppose I did. After my last death, Danu asked me to give Caed another chance, and I agreed—mostly because he was responsible for getting Bram home.

Rubbing my temples, I slouch a little on the throne. I’m not sure how I feel about this latest development or being left out of such an important part of my life.

I hope you know what you’re doing, Danu.

“The Goddess has some sense,” Drystan mutters, pacing away from the group. “Rose is far too forgiving. At least this way we can actually be rid of you.”

Kitarni drops Caed’s arm, pausing her inspection of his tattoo to round on Drystan. “You would do well to recognise the responsibility the Goddess has given you and act with fairness and good judgement, rather than blind anger.”

“The last time we were fair with him, he escaped his cell and got Rose killed,” Jaro replies as he edges closer to me, his stance protective. “For all we know, he might be perfectly willing to die if it wins his father the war in the process. We give him a chance, he’ll just kidnap Rose again.”

“That might be rather hard, given that we’re both fugitives from the Fomorian army,” Prae remarks drolly. “Elatha didn’t take your escape lightly. He accused Caed of treason for letting you smuggle a nathair into his throne room.”

A ghost of a smile brushes the corner of Bree’s lips at that, and his hands—already stroking absently over his tats—shift to run along the scales of the serpent on his arm.

“And you?” Florian demands. “Rose said you’d become second in line.”

“The moment Caed escaped, I was under suspicion,” Prae replies smoothly. “When I was detained, Caed was less than subtle in his attempts to free me. Elatha knows where my allegiance lies now.”

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