Page 45 of Across an Endless Sea

It’s the first time since the waterfall that he’s let go of my hand, and I rub my palm, trying to erase the feel of him as I approach my door.

Having the barrier between us gives me the space to think as I change carefully into the plain dress that’s been left out for me.

I’ve found out three very important things today.

First, the Fomorians have been attacking the fae out of desperation.

Second, that Caed is half fae and deeply ashamed of it.

And third, that he knew a little too much about the Deep Caves for it to be a coincidence.

Fifteen

Caed

My father gifted Rose a simple, plain dress to make her look like a prisoner, but it hasn’t worked. She stands before the doors to the great hall, looking small, yes, but no less regal for it.

There’s a proud tilt to her spine and a quiet determination in her steps as I use my grip on her upper arm to lead her past the huge troughs of fire that light the room and into the feast. The low stone tables are full tonight. Lots of warriors returned with us from Faerie, and they’re sitting cross-legged on mats on the ground, enjoying the spoils of their raids. Ale sloshes over the brims of their tankards. The scent of roasting meat is heavy in the air, and I swear I can almost taste the glistening honey glaze on the enormous roasted buck that forms the centrepiece.

Elatha sits at the royal table on the only chair in the room, but it’s not something the fae would consider as such. It has a gilded back that spikes into the air, making Elatha’s status obvious—as if it was ever in doubt—but no legs.

Behind him, his dogs snarl and snap over the scraps they’ve been tossed. As I watch, a blue arm flies into the air above them, confirming that my father has already sentenced someone to that awful death today.

My place at his right is empty—as it should be—but Lev has wheedled his way to the left hand of the King, and I suppress a growl. I half expect that he was one of the masterminds behind the lazy fucking assassin.

The cheers and boasts slow then stop entirely as the warriors in the room notice Rose. Their eyes gleam with anticipation as they flick between her and my father, waiting to see what he’ll do. Soon, the only sound is the dogs fighting, and even that slows as they run out of food and start to settle.

Behind me, Prae slinks over to her corner table by the door, turfing out the idiot who’s taken her favourite spot during our absence. After what happened with her mother, my father publicly declared that the traitor’s daughter should always sit as far from the throne as possible, but Prae has turned that on its head and claimed the table as her own. She’s not permitted to approach the high table, but with how she spreads out to fill the space, you’d think that corner was her personal throne.

“So the fallen queen has deigned to turn up at last.” Elatha steeples his long fingers beneath his chin as he looks down at us. “Have you come to bow?”

My eyes flick to Rose, and I stare at her expectantly.

I showed her the Deep Caves. She’s not stupid. Bowing will spare her from that.

She doesn’t move. In fact, I think she stands straighter.

“Bow,” I hiss under my breath.

Instead, Rose takes a deep breath, looks at an empty space a little to her left, and swallows before turning to face him once more.

“No.”

She enunciates the word so clearly that, for a second, I don’t process what she’s actually said. It’s only when her eyes widen with panic and she glances back at that same spot that it hits me.

My breath turns icy in my lungs as I take in her wide eyes.

Why the fuck did she do that? Did I not make what would happen clear?

Has the iron addled her wits?

Elatha’s fury colours his face as he pushes to his feet, resting his fists on the table as he leans towards her. “Very well. Bring me a fairy.”

Rose’s throat moves as she swallows. Her eyes meet my father’s with a kind of stubborn, tearful resolve that just makes me angry.

She could’ve ended this. Spared another slave’s life just by lowering her head.

Instead, she stares dully as another fae—a high fae this time—is dragged forwards weeping and begging and forced to her knees.

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