Page 12 of Across an Endless Sea

“As long as it sends the message you’re not going soft on her.”

Caed’s entire body stiffens, and my stomach sinks.

If he’s out to prove he’s not soft on me to his entire army, I’m screwed. This is an appetiser.

Please, Danu, let my Guard come for me.

When they do, I hope they skewer Caed for this.

Bright and cutting anger has been growing in me since I first realised what was happening, but I fan the flames of it higher. Maybe, if I can channel enough of my fury, I’ll be able to reach past the iron to the Goddess and free myself.

“If you hear those whispers,” Caed replies, growling. “Cut out the tongues that speak them. That’s an order.”

Prae grins, offering him a sarcastic salute. “Yes, sir.”

The new pace is torturous, but it could be worse. Caed is having to go slow because of my new position. I can feel Bree and Drystan drawing closer, and the more I trip and stumble and generally delay us, the more time they have to catch up.

I just have to buy them time.

Anger isn’t summoning Danu’s power—despite my hopes—so rescue is my only viable option right now.

Unfortunately, less than an hour later, Caed announces the inevitable.

“We’re here.”

In the fog before us looms a giant shadow. A few minutes later, we get close enough to make out an enormous rugged and rusted wall illuminated by huge braziers. It’s been hastily constructed of sheets of metal. All the iron makes my head swim, and beneath it, the grass has turned brown and died. The mud has turned a sickly grey, and the air tastes of rot.

Like Faerie itself is sickened by so much iron in one place.

Caed digs his heels into the sides of his drake, and it moves faster. He calls out something in a language I don’t understand—probably Fomorian—and a gate creaks open with an explosion of sound that echoes through the mist. The drakes rush through, forcing me to half-jog to keep up, and I curse as I slip and slide on the muddy ground.

The cheers start the second they catch sight of me. Caed straightens, visibly puffing up with pride, and I glare at him as he yanks on my rope like I’m a dog.

He can act like this is some great victory, but we both know the truth. He chased down an unarmed, exhausted female with no control over her own magic. That’s nothing to gloat about.

Any hope I had of Drystan and Bree coming to my rescue vanishes with the thud of the iron gate closing behind us.

There are Fomorians everywhere, and one thing is certain: they’re all warriors. Some are great hulking beasts, easily twice my size. Others are smaller, but even more armed to the teeth than their larger counterparts.

The only things they all have in common are the double points of their ears, their scarred blue skin, colourless eyes, and pale hair. They stare shamelessly at my barely covered body, and I tug the coat around me self-consciously.

If only I were as confident as Maeve. I’m pretty sure she’d just shrug the coat off and stride in naked. All I can do is shrink further into myself, hunching my shoulders and clutching the fabric at the front in a death grip to hide from their piercing, monochromatic gazes.

I never noticed before, but I think Caed might be the only Fomorian with coloured eyes. His turquoise is a startling contrast to the hundred different shades of grey surrounding me, twinkling like a beacon.

Is it because he’s their prince? Or just some genetic quirk?

Behind them, their tents stretch as far as the eye can see, and I want to cry as I realise how outnumbered any rescue attempt would be. There’s so much iron here, the others would need an army to get me out.

And, thanks to the siege of Elfhame City, the army is off the table.

A glob of something slimy—spit, I think—hits me in the cheek, and I glare back before I can remind myself not to antagonise them. The gathered soldiers smirk at me, daring me to do something. To justify some worse humiliation.

Head down. Look for an escape. I can practically hear Maeve lecturing me, even though she’s not here.

The only good thing about the drakes’ fast pace is that it doesn’t take long for us to reach our destination. Caed dismounts in the centre of a small clearing in what must be the centre of the camp. He unties the rope connecting my hands to his drake and hands my leash off to his pernicious cousin, ignoring the soldiers celebrating all around us.

“Deal with her,” he commands. “I’ll see that our ship is ready.”

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