Page 66 of Across an Endless Sea

His hand drops.

The swords fly forward, cutting through flesh and bone as thirty fae are slaughtered in the space of five seconds.

Vomit burns the back of my mouth, but I can’t make myself look away as their bodies slump lifelessly. The few who are still twitching are finished off with careful slices of those ghostly blades, and I take a step back as the Fomorians start to laugh.

But I don’t get far. Elatha seizes my wrist with those eerily long fingers, dragging me to his side.

“This will be your last warning about messing with my kingdom,” he snarls. “You’ll behave now, won’t you?”

Behave? What for? Ice floods my veins as I meet his black, dead stare and realise there must be worse yet to come.

Caed hesitates, but doesn’t meet my gaze.

That, more than anything, convinces me that something is wrong.

Twenty-One

Caed

No one removes the bodies, and Rose is having a hard time looking away from them. Her obvious discomfort delights my father, who decides to hold audience with her by his side, making the situation worse. Ordinarily, audience wouldn’t be taken by the pit, but in one of the other halls. Now, the fools who want to petition him are forced to step around the pit full of bodies to plead their case.

The Nicnevin hasn’t looked at me since the fae died, which doesn’t bother me in the slightest. If she wanted to delude herself into thinking—

I cut off my own train of thought before it can form. I’ve spent far too much time during this audience obsessing over Rose already. My father was right. Allowing her into my own space was a foolish idea, not to mention a total violation of his orders. My hand twinges painfully, and I try to focus on that instead.

Trying to hide Rose’s healed mark was stupid. Elatha was always going to find out, and the second he did, he ordered me to stick my hand straight into the fire. The burns are still scabbing over. Unfortunately, the scars won’t stick now that I’m past the age of immortality. In a day or two, my mark will be as immaculate as it was the day I got it.

And then Elatha will likely order me to do the same thing all over again.

My palm throbs at the reminder, and I shift it against my side, trying to angle the wound so it’s not in direct contact with the leather of my glove. Even the softness of drakehide is too much for my poor fingers right now.

I’d take it off, except that would only encourage some idiot to challenge me, thinking such a minor wound might weaken me. Lev is gone, but there are others out there who are eyeing up his place. Draard, for one.

If Haor and Hogart were here, they’d be watching me like hawks, waiting for the moment to strike.

Elatha waves away the latest petitioner with a roll of his eyes.

“If he was smart enough to steal your ship, you deserved to lose it,” he announces. “I’ll hear no more of this whining today. It’s time for me to make an announcement.”

He sweeps forwards, seizing Rose’s hand as he moves, ignoring the way she flinches. Beneath my skin, the Call starts to buzz with whispers of her fear, and my hands curl into fists at my sides. The flash of pain from the mangled mark manages to dull my awareness of her, but I’m sure it won’t last.

“As you all know, I’ve been doing my best to persuade the Nicnevin that it’s in her best interests to bow before me.” He toys with the word ‘persuade’ like it’s amusing to him. “Unfortunately, she lacks the basic self-preservation instincts that the Ancestors gave a toad.”

There are chuckles around the room, and my lips quirk, but I can’t quite manage a full smile.

“So I’ve devised a different way to legitimise my claim to her fallen queendom.” Elatha raises Rose’s hand high. “I shall mate her.”

Wait. Mate her?

What. The. Fuck?

I squeeze my hand so tightly that I think I might pass out and cross my arms over my chest in an effort to hold in the magic that so desperately wants to break free.

Only it can’t. Because when my father summoned me this morning, he used my name to prevent me from using my powers in his presence without his permission. As long as Elatha is here, I can’t summon my blades. I’m a dog on a leash, and the chain just got shorter.

The room erupts with whispers, but the king must be expecting it, because he tacks on, “What’s one more half-breed to add to my line? At least begetting this one won’t be a chore.”

My gut churns, but bawdy jokes are a language his court understands, and a few of them break out in deep laughs, giving him the levity needed to drop his final blow.

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