Page 22 of Across an Endless Sea

“No,” Kitarni says. “Bree is a Guard. He has the authority to enforce the Nicnevin’s laws.”

She pauses, then approaches him, keeping her hands by her sides as she slowly leans in, murmuring in his ear too quietly for me to hear, all while taking great pain not to touch him—even accidentally.

The púca stiffens, then half bows in her direction before turning on his heel and leaving the room. With him gone, it’s just me, the high priestess, and the two unconscious males.

“I hope you know what you’re doing, high priestess,” I mutter as soon as the door closes.

Kitarni nods. “He’s still in shock, but sooner or later, his trauma will catch up to him, and the anger will surface. Better we allow him to purge it in a way that brings him closure, than let it simmer beneath the surface and poison him.” She turns to look at Florian. “How are you finding the position of knight commander?”

I shake my head. “It’s temporary.”

She tuts disbelievingly at me. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

Scrubbing my hand down my face, I sigh. “It could be better. The knights follow my lead without question, but I’m young. Unproven. The older soldiers would rather Ascal have the position.”

So would I, to be honest. But Ascal won’t hear of it. She prefers the position of second in command.

Kitarni nods. “That will ease… with time.”

It will ease when Florian recovers,I think to myself.

Eight

Rhoswyn

The first thing I notice is the dryness. A desert seems to have taken up residence in my mouth while I slept, and no amount of swallowing or licking my chapped lips will get rid of it.

Until someone tips water, blessedly cool water, into my mouth.

“Drink, Nicnevin,” an urgent, feminine voice whispers. “Quickly now. Before they come back.”

I do as I’m told, barely breathing as I gulp it down like I’m dying of thirst.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing!?” The demand is harsh, and a second later, the water is ripped away from my lips. Liquid splashes over my body as I eek open my equally gritty eyes and stare into a starlit sky.

Wait… the sky?

I blink and turn over just in time to see a tiny, cowering faun flinch away from the snap of a whip. It’s wielded by a hulking brute of a Fomorian, who bares his teeth in foul delight as his strike catches her on the cheek, splitting open her skin. The next hit catches her arm. A third lands on her back as she cowers.

I reach for her, meaning to shield her, but my limbs are leaden. All I accomplish is making my fingers twitch. The faun makes no noise, but her whole body reverberates with each strike.

“What’s going on here?” a female voice, instantly familiar, demands.

Prae steps between me and the other two, and the sight of her triggers my memories.

I’m on Caed’s ship. He and his cousin took me prisoner.

Someone has moved me to a semi-private corner of the upper deck, shielded from the crew by a wall of crates. The deck here is covered in ratty furs, and I’ve been placed on the thickest section of them.

“This slave was poisoning the King’s prisoner,” the other Fomorian grunts.

“I would never,” the faun objects. “That’s my Nicnevin, and you were killing her with your iron water!”

Prae’s eyes fall on me, widening slightly when she notices I’m staring right at her. How long have I been asleep?

“Let the fairy speak,” the Fomorian princess orders, when the oaf with the whip raises his weapon a second time. “After all, the queen is awake for the first time in days.”

“You’ve been giving her water from the hold,” the faun protests. “It’s been sitting in iron casks for Goddess knows how long. No wonder she’s been fading all week.”

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