Page 94 of Across an Endless Sea

Kitarni’s bark-covered lips purse into a sympathetic half-smile. “Yes, I imagine there’s a lot to consider.”

I wait, expecting her to press me, or at least continue with whatever it was she was saying. She doesn’t. The silence is open, like she’s letting me pick the subject, and I glance over my shoulder at Bree.

Since I returned, I haven’t spent a moment without at least one member of my Guard hovering around me. Even when I sleep, they’re there, hovering at the edges of my garden, but never quite out of sight. This time, it’s my púca’s turn to babysit me, though he’s spent the entirety of my lesson on the Spring Court reading.

I never knew that watching a tattoo-covered male cradle a book could be such a swoon-worthy sight, but Bree’s been distracting me all day. Fortunately, he seems pretty enamoured with whatever he’s reading, and even if he wasn’t, I trust him to keep my confidence.

“I don’t want a mating ceremony,” I confess to the high priestess, swallowing the lump of guilt that threatens to choke me. “Not yet, anyway. I know I should. My Guards’ powers are out of control, and that’s not fair on them. And yes, I know that every single Nicnevin before me has mated their Guard before their coronation so everyone expects it, but none of them had Caed to deal with, did they? But if I don’t mate them, then everyone will think something is wrong with me—or them—which isn’t fair either. Ugh, mind you, everyone will know something is wrong when they figure out Caed’s part of my Guard, but Danu asked me to give him one last chance, and I said I would. But what if my people think I don’t want them because—?”

Bree’s hand covers my mouth, not touching, just hovering. A silent dam that holds my nervous blabbering in check. I tilt my head up, craning my neck to meet his green eyes, and his hand follows. His black ears are drooping sadly, and he shakes his head once.

“If you’re not ready, you don’t have to justify that to anyone,” he says. “Least of all strangers who don’t know you.”

His declaration stuns me to silence. I open my mouth to speak, only to inhale a lungful of his scent—a strange smoky fragrance shot through with a twist of honey. His green eyes widen a second later, and he snatches his hand back like he’s been burned by the almost-contact, taking a step back.

“I can arrange for the coronation to happen without the mating ceremony,” Kitarni says, gathering up the scrolls she’s been helping me read before glancing between the two of us. “We can handle whatever gossip arises. While I make preparations, perhaps it would be good for you to go out into the inner city—glamoured, of course. You can study your people from books all you like, but I think going out and walking among them will do you good.”

That actually sounds amazing.

I glance at Bree. “Will you take me? We could bring Wraith.”

The barghest opens one eye, huffs at me in annoyance, and flips over onto his back. Okay, I guess he’s not coming with us then. He’s been exhausted ever since Lore blinked him to me earlier, and I have to wonder what on earth the redcap has been doing to wear him out so badly…

On second thoughts, maybe I don’t want to know.

Bree stiffens, chewing at his lower lip for a second before he answers. “If you wish.” He pauses, uncertainty making his ears twitch. “If you’re nervous, I can get Jaromir…”

“One of you is more than enough,” Kitarni reassures him. “This is the Nicnevin’s own city, after all. Besides, Jaromir was briefing Florian today. With any luck, once he’s done, he’ll finally rest. While he did an admirable job holding the city in Florian’s absence, the loss of the outer city has taken its toll on him.”

She’s right. Since my return, Jaro has been quiet, mired in his own gloomy thoughts and frowning more often than before. No one seems to blame him for the loss—in fact, many have praised him for saving so many civilians—but he’s definitely taken the defeat to heart.

Perhaps with Florian back at the helm and some distance, he’ll see that none of it was his fault.

Thoughts of what I can do to help Jaro consume me as I drift from the library. Bree shadows me, keeping the small tattered book he was reading tucked against his side. It’s only when we breach the huge doors of the palace and start striding out into the late afternoon sunlight together that I remember I should be working on my glamour.

Carefully, feature by feature, I begin to build a likeness in my mind. Not a high fae—I’m too short to pull it off—but a púca like Bree.

We’re halfway to the palace wall gatehouse before I get it in place and Bree takes in the changes in silence. The corner of his lips turn down as I finish the look by turning my purple eyes brown. Still, he doesn’t comment. He’s too busy staring around warily, still clutching his book in one hand.

“What were you reading?” I ask, to fill the silence.

Bree clears his throat. “Erm, poetry,” he admits, looking at the ground. “It… it’s calming.”

“What kind?” I ask. “I’ve not really heard much before, but maybe I’d like it?”

The púca stiffens. “It’s bardic verse,” he mumbles. “I used to be…” He breaks off, takes a visible breath, then continues. “I was a bard, before.”

Before he ended up indentured to a whorehouse.

That explains the instruments hidden among the knife tattoos, but not the blades.

What would his voice sound like if he chose to sing? The hoarseness has almost faded entirely since he was freed, but I can’t picture it. I don’t want to ask if it’s a painful subject, and judging by the way he struggled to even admit that much, it probably is.

“Where are we going?” I ask, as we cross under the portcullis and the guards around us start yelling orders. The enormous gates behind us swing shut as the ones before us swing open, revealing the vast, verdant city beyond.

Bree’s eyes widen. “Wherever you want to go.”

Exploring? Wherever I want? This sounds suspiciously like freedom.

---