Chapter 12

Twelve

Rhoswyn

W hen we return to camp the next morning, Jaro’s sparkling skin draws more than a few jealous grunts. But no one is more surprised than me when Drystan drags me from my wolf shifter’s arms and claims a kiss before lifting me up into Blizzard’s saddle.

I glance at the rest of them, frowning when I notice Caed has mysteriously developed a black eye. Raising a single eyebrow in question, I look at Bree and Lore expectantly.

“We had a disagreement,” Bree grumbles, surprising me. “About voyeurism without consent.”

“You’re welcome to kiss it better.” Caed shrugs. “And, for the record, if you didn’t want me to see, you shouldn’t have sent me to collect firewood that we don’t even need, since the headless one can just click his fingers and cook a grouse.”

My mind flashes back to the streak of blue I thought I saw while I was riding Jaro, and my stomach twists with a mix of indignation and… lust.

As if to taunt me, my subconscious drags up that memory of the Fomorian prince naked in front of the fire, painted in orange and blue light, and I have to convince myself the interest dripping between my thighs is just some remnant of last night that we missed during clean up.

Determined to ignore Caed, I sweep the empty glade for anything we might’ve left behind, then focus on Drystan swinging up into the saddle behind me.

“What do you want done about him?” Drystan asks, his voice a bare murmur as he spurs Blizzard into motion.

I snort under my breath. “If I say I want to have a private conversation with him, I suppose you’ll say no.”

Because one thing has become abundantly clear in the last two days; Caed will not drop that arrogant, egotistical shield while he’s around my other mates. His pride is a beautiful, terrible, fragile thing, and he’s already set a whole bunch of it aside just to join us. If I want the truth from him, it will have to be without the rest of my males around.

Drystan doesn’t even pause. “Of course.”

Sighing, I scrub a hand down the side of my face. “Then I want nothing done.” His terse silence stiffens my spine. “I mean it. No more fighting amongst ourselves. We’re about to walk into the Autumn Court with him. As far as the rest of the fae know, we’re a united court, Fomorians and all.”

His stiffness belies his agitation, and when he opens his mouth, I know exactly what he’s about to say.

“Rhoswyn.”

I sigh. “You only use my full name when you think I’m being stupid, but I’m not. Just listen to me. Caed being captured in Pavellen, Eero’s people picking us off one by one in Siabetha… none of that would’ve happened if we were working together like a true Nicnevin and her Guard.” I sigh. “That was my fault. I banished him, then told him to stay away when he asked to come with us in Pavellen.”

“Both reasonable choices, given how he treated you. Any sane person would set boundaries after that.” The danger in the unseelie lord’s voice is cutting, but it’s not directed at me. “And what do you mean, walking into the Autumn Court with him? They have glamours.”

“Yes, but I don’t think they should use them. Mervyn has already told the world I’ve got Fomorians on my side. Hiding them will only lead to more drama when they’re discovered, or worse, more attempts at blackmail. Danu chose Caed as my Guard, and I chose Prae for my court. There’s no reason to hide that.”

His stiff silence is hard to ignore.

“Besides,” I add, forcing a cheery note into my voice. “I’m sure the rest of the unseelie will be just as forgiving of him as you are. Surely, you’d rather watch him endure their judgement.”

“Autumn Court unseelie are a fun bunch,” Lore says. “They’ll probably throw him a party.”

“The kind where he loses his toenails?” Prae asks, shamelessly eavesdropping. “Or the kind with honeymallows and dancing?”

Lore just grins as he rides past. “Why not both? More importantly, when do I get to ride with Rose? I think she’d make an epic impression riding into Illidwen on the back of a barghest.”

I grind my teeth together. “Caed has lost enough toenails. I’d rather not heal any more injuries from any of you for a while.”

“No one ever said you had to heal him.” I twist my neck to pin Drystan with an exasperated look. “But I’ve wasted enough breath on the damned Fomorian for one morning. If you want him murdered by Cressida’s soldiers, by all means, let’s parade his blue ass through the streets of Illidwen.”

He’s exaggerating, but I have a sick feeling he’s not wrong.

“If we keep him hidden, we’re playing into Eero’s narrative about me being a puppet for the Fomorians,” I insist. “My gut says this is the right thing.” I lower my voice. “And if they try to hurt him, I would hope you would put a stop to it, for my sake.”

Drystan says nothing, and I sigh again. Swallowing back the urge to argue, I change the topic. “How far until the next shrine?”

He doesn’t answer the question directly. “Bree’s valravn has picked up Siabethan scouts along the original route.”

I swallow. “So we’re changing plans?”

“Your blessing of the shrines is no longer proof of Danu being on our side.” Bree rides up beside us. “If Eero’s attempts to find you have already spread this far, it would be safer for us to head straight for the Apporas. It would cut our journey time in half.”

But it would also leave less time for us to heal from what happened in Siabetha. I look up at Drystan, arching a questioning brow.

“I wanted to give us time,” he mutters under his breath, looking away like this new plan is a shameful failure on his part, rather than an unavoidable change in circumstance. “But Eero isn’t just sending fae after us. The redcap blinked to the western coast. Fomorians are openly sailing there, watching for signs of our passage. Your safety is paramount.”

“Even in the Autumn Court that isn’t guaranteed,” Jaro argues from behind. “Cressida’s court has taken the brunt of the Fomorian invasion.”

“Luckily for you, you have your own guide to the Forest of Whispers.” Lore grins.

“Forest of Whispers?” I ask, quietly.

Mab swoops in to answer before Drystan can. “It’s a reference to the Autumn Court underworld. All sorts of smuggling, thieving, and shady deals can take place in a forest so thick you can’t see twenty feet in front of you. Fae tend to disappear, and there are a lot of ghosts, so many that fae with only the slightest drop of the sight in their blood can hear them.”

That doesn’t sound ominous at all. My mind flashes back to those fae-eating trees, and I shiver.

“Don’t scare her,” Drystan grunts, arms stiffening around me. “The fae who disappear in the forest are the kind who deserve it. The smugglers and thieves wouldn’t dare try anything against their Nicnevin.”

“Cressida allows this?” I frown. “Surely…”

Lore cackles. “Pet, who do you think does half of the disappearing? Cressidick has her fingers in all the pies.”

So the queen of autumn is also a queen of criminals? I shudder.

Somehow, I fear she might end up being worse than Eero and Aiyana put together.