Chapter 10

Ten

Rhoswyn

B y the time we’ve finished, and I’ve cleaned up once more in the spring, the others have packed down camp and erased all evidence that we were ever here. Drystan is waiting beside Blizzard at the head of the line, with Caed and Prae predictably waiting at the back.

Wraith nuzzles me, and Lore pats the space in front of him with a grin. “Want to join me today, pet?”

“She rides with me.” Drystan spurs Blizzard between us.

“Sharing is caring.” Lore blinks around the horse, then blinks us both back onto Wraith without losing his grin. “Don’t you think a barghest is more comfortable than a horse?”

I think about it for a second, and then shrug. To be very honest, there are pros and cons of both. Wraith’s gait is smoother, but the rhythm of it is so different from a horse. How has Lore been doing this and controlling him without reins?

Experience, I suppose. He’s thousands of years old. During that time, I’m sure he’s ridden far stranger beasts. I wouldn’t put it past the redcap to try to ride a tunnel wyrm.

On the other hand, I can barely ride a horse. I’m pretty sure—given the way the fur I’m clinging to is standing on end—that Wraith doesn’t appreciate me gripping him so tightly either.

“I think I’ll ride with Drystan,” I murmur, quietly resolving to practise riding Wraith later.

Lore pouts but kisses me and blinks me onto Blizzard without complaint. “Fiinneee.”

Lore has blinked me behind Drystan, and I go to hug him only for him to tut in irritation. In a few moments, I’m back in my usual place, my ass flush with his crotch. I understood this before, when my fever was pushing us to be more intimate, but I look up in confusion now. What was wrong with me being on the back?

When I look back at him questioningly, he shrugs. “If an arrow comes at us, I’d rather it hit me.”

My heart stutters.

All this time, he’s made me ride in front because he was afraid I’d get shot again?

“You’re not making it easy to stay mad at you,” I mumble, settling back against him as we move off and into the trees.

He relaxes an infinitesimal degree. “Good. The seelie need you to be calm and level-headed.” He pauses. “You did very well at managing Danu’s rage in the palace. I half expected the Goddess to force you into rushing in on a suicidal magical assault.”

I pause. That sounded almost like a compliment.

“We agreed on what needed to be done,” I admit, softly. “We— I killed one of the soldiers guarding Bree. Danu had nothing to do with that, or the blaze. It was all me.”

“Any fae would do the same.” His calmness is oddly soothing. “It was inevitable that you’d take a life by yourself eventually, but that doesn’t mean you’ll forget it any time soon, either.”

“Do you remember?”

“The first fae I killed?” He snorts. “Yes. It was an assassin I caught slipping something into my drink. It was at a time in my youth where my control of my power wasn’t as fine-tuned. I meant to burn off his hand so we could interrogate him but ended up incinerating him. My mother ordered me locked in the cells for a week for being so sloppy.”

“From what you’ve told me, I don’t think I like your family very much.”

He throws back his head and snorts. “I’d be more concerned if you did.”

Dropping the subject, I slip from the saddle as we approach the first shrine. It’s a natural recess in the sharp stone cliff before us, almost like a half-cave. Inside, a tiny trickle of water runs free from a crack, cascading down onto a moss-covered rock.

I’m not sure which part is supposed to be sacred; the cave, the water, or the rock, but I like this one. It’s understated, without the ribbons or the fanfare of some of the previous shrines. In fact, only the small line of fae letters etched vertically into the rock beside it mark it as a shrine at all.

I breathe in deeply, the moist earthy scent soothing me.

“May all of Danu’s children find peace at this shrine,” I whisper, closing my eyes as I touch the cool damp rocks at the base.

I keep breathing, waiting for something to happen. For Danu’s blessing to break this one like it has all the others.

Nothing. I crack open one eye, wondering if the rock has changed colour or something.

Everything is the same. Frowning with confusion, I feel for the bond to Danu in my chest.

“Well, that was disappointing.” Lore’s hat actually droops on his head. “I was hoping for some obnoxious display of favour that would shut Eero up.”

“Not helping, redcap.” Jaro’s voice is gravelly with the sound of his wolf.

What’s going on? I silently ask the bond in my chest and am instantly hit with a wave of smug anger.

“The Goddess is clearly aware of our efforts to be subtle.” Drystan rides over and leans down to pull me back up into the saddle. “Either that, or she disapproves of us dragging the Fomorian around with us like a stray dog.”

“Fuck. You,” Caed retorts. “Your Goddess wanted this little bonding experiment, remember?”

“Enough,” I say, voice quiet. “It’s not anything to do with Caed. She’s punishing the Summer Court. Her anger with them isn’t going anywhere any time soon.”

“How do you know that?” Bree asks, riding up alongside me.

I shrug. “I just asked the bond. She’s furious.”

There’s a second’s silence as they all process what I’ve said. Did I do something wrong? It felt natural to just reach for Danu and ask.

Drystan kicks Blizzard back into a walk. “There’s still five days’ travel between us and the Apporas river. Try to remind the Goddess that we’re keeping a low profile before she decides to burn down anything else.”

I blush, then shrug. “If blessing the shrines is for nothing, can we not just blink to Illidwen? Surely there’s no point continuing this way.”

He stiffens, then shakes his head, lowering his voice until I can barely hear him. “We could, but do you really think the others are in any shape to stand up against another minor royal right now? Are you, for that matter?”

I glance back at Jaro, noting the shadows under his eyes, and then at Bree, whose ears haven’t stopped twitching since we left Siabetha. Finally, my eyes land on the two Fomorians riding a few paces behind everyone else.

“You’re right,” I reluctantly admit. “The southern courts weren’t kind to us.”

“Your wings are still sore—don’t try to deny it—and we could all use a chance to heal. I’ve carefully planned the route. The chances of us being discovered are slim to none.”

I can imagine so, given that we appear to have left roads behind entirely.

One of his hands leaves the reins, landing on my shoulder. He trails his finger lightly over the fabric covered skin there—a question—and I nod.

Strong fingers dig into my muscles, teasing out the knots in my neck before working their way down.

“Bricriu also made a good point, back in the Spring Court.” Drystan pauses as I let out a pained gasp when he hits a particularly sore knot at the base of my top left wing, soothing away that hurt with firm strokes before continuing. “This is the first time you’ll see much of your own Queendom, and it will probably be the last time for a long time that you can travel so freely without a retinue. Despite the circumstances, you should enjoy what you can.”

“I’ll enjoy it when my people are safe.” I sink back into him. “But we can’t do that with half the Guard so… distracted.”

It’s too weak of a word for what Jaro and Bree are going through, but I can’t bring myself to call them broken. Broken implies they may never recover, and I refuse to believe that.

“Five days is enough time for you to get a little more flight practice in, and for them to work through what’s happened.” Drystan edges Blizzard left around a fallen tree. “We are at war. These moments of rest are sometimes more vital than the moments of action.”

There’s wisdom in his words. “If Cressida refuses to bow, I won’t take it lying down as I did with Aiyana and Eero.”

He chuckles. “The unseelie wouldn’t respect you if you did. We’re different breeds, for all that we are the same species. Just remember to check for a lavellan in your bed before you go to sleep.”

A what? I quickly decide I don’t want to know and shrug off the words. “Unseelie are dangerous, got it.”

“No more so than the seelie turned out to be,” he grouches. “But Cressida is older than Aiyana and twice as powerful.”

Considering the damage Eero and Aiyana have done, that doesn’t fill me with confidence.