Page 17 of Across an Endless Sea

I fuse my lips together and glower back defiantly. Bree is gone, but I’m not about to tell Caed that.

Our staring contest is punctuated by our heaving breaths, forcing us closer on each inhale until there’s barely space to fit a blade of grass between us. Surprisingly, he’s the one who looks away first.

The Fomorian prince looks over my head at the crew, who are still shooting bolts randomly into the sky.

“Get us to the open sea,” he snaps. “It seems the Nicnevin needs a lesson in minding her betters.”

Six

Caed

Dark chuckles follow us as I drag the realm’s most delicate fae towards the door that leads to the lower decks of the ship. Thank the Ancestors I decided to wear a coat tonight, because otherwise we’d have to deal with even more burns from my armbands after the púca’s little stunt. Rose struggles and squirms like a slippery eel, but the instant the crew slams the bulkhead shut behind us, her movements become weaker.

Surrounded by steel, her twists become sluggish, her eyes screw shut, and her breathing turns shallow.

She’s a lead weight in my arms, and her head lolls to one side.

This is wrong, my gut whispers. Without conscious direction, my feet carry us away from the brig where I’d initially planned to put her, and towards the cabin I’ve stolen from the captain.

Shit. I’ve never seen a fae react so badly to just being surrounded by iron. Is she even still conscious?

“Smart move, antagonising me in front of my crew, little queen,” I taunt, kicking open the door with my foot.

She mumbles something inaudible, and a sliver of panic traces down my spine as I realise she’s gone entirely limp against me.

Fuck. I lay her on the plush furs and step back. She’s passed out. A fine sheen of sweat covers her entire body, and her skin is chalky.

Is she even going to make the journey to Fellgotha?

I glance at the wounds on her feet—already streaked with fine black lines—and then at the cuffs.

Fuck it. She clearly can’t do magic with this much iron around her, and I’m not hunting all over Elfhame for her a third time. I grab the bangle around her wrist in one hand and snap it. The fucking snake the púca gave her writhes on her arm, glaring at me with its fangs extended. Shit.

That’s another problem I didn’t need complicating my return.

I have no idea what kind of magic he used, and I don’t know enough about púcaí to know for certain what I’m dealing with. That thing was a real snake before it turned into ink, and I have the strongest suspicion that it can become real again whenever it wishes to.

I avoid it as I crush away the second of Prae’s bangles. I’ll deal with the snake later. Probably. Maybe.

She’s still not waking up.

Ancestors, capturing the enemy is not supposed to be thiscomplicated. Never before have I worried so much about a prisoner’s welfare.

I can’t say I’ve ever put them in my fucking bed either—stolen or otherwise.

I’m pacing again, but now that I’m finally alone, I can admit I’m horribly out of my depth. Worse, I think Prae knows, or at least suspects.

“What the fuck happened to make you so sensitive to iron?” I growl under my breath at her unconscious body.

Any ordinary fae might’ve started to burn after a few minutes of exposure to the deck of the ship—less time if they had an open wound—but it would take half an hour for them to reach this point. Rose barely walked across the deck for two minutes, maybe less, and she’s already showing signs of severe iron poisoning.

I should’ve expected this when she reacted so badly to my armbands, but I ignored the evidence like an idiot.

Rose doesn’t answer me… obviously.

No, she just lies there, swamped by my coat, but shivering just the same. She looks tiny. Delicate.

I chuck a fur over her before I can think better of it, then chuck some more coal on the stove in the corner. The cabin is warm, but she’s still shaking. Should I go and find some of that salve?

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