Chapter 17

Seventeen

Drystan

R ose is the only one in the room who doesn’t know she’s being manipulated. Her shoulders are stiff, and her possessiveness shines darkly in her eyes as they dart between Lore and Cressida. The autumn queen is happily mated, and has been for a long time, so she’s overwhelming Rose’s territorial instincts purposefully. I can’t really complain, because it means our Nicnevin agrees to my suggestion without arguing.

Jaro and Lore each claim one of her hands and lead Rose out of the room, Bricriu right behind. The black-and-silver ghost of a fox, who’s been following us since we left the Summer Court, gives me a silent nod before trailing after them, bushy tail disappearing through the solid wooden door.

Rose’s brother is staying true to the ways of most spirits, keeping close to the people he knew and loved in life. If Rose was actively using the sight, she’d have seen him by now.

It’s probably a good thing she isn’t.

Except for that first day when she wept against Bricriu until she was too exhausted to cry any more, her strategy thus-far seems to be pretending she hasn’t lost a brother. She’s walling off her grief with that doomed combination of denial and distraction. Whenever we try to mention Bram’s death, she shuts us down.

Maeve, now solid again, moves forward slowly, distracting me from my thoughts. “Cress, I?—”

“The next words out of your mouth better not be some bullshit apology,” the autumn queen snaps. “And don’t you think we should have some privacy?”

“I’m not going anywhere, and I don’t trust them to leave my sight.” I jerk my head at Caed and Prae, who have the good sense to stay silent. “As long as nothing you say breaks Nicnevin Rhoswyn’s trust, no word of this meeting shall pass our lips.”

“Agreed,” Caed and Prae both mutter.

It’s good enough for Maeve, who struts forward, resting her hands on the map table between her and Cressida.

“Danu told me I’d fuck everything up if I stayed alive,” she begins, her shoulders tense. “Before the third Fomorian war started, I was months away from stabbing the ambassadors. I was so happy when the blue bastards showed up on the beaches again because, finally, I was useful . I knew I was shit at peace—at treating the seelie like anything other than the whining arsewipes they are—but the Goddess showed me what would happen if I didn’t step down. A new civil war. And it’s not like I could abdicate any other way.”

I… hadn’t known that about her. No one had. As far as most people were concerned, Nicnevin Maeve died in the final battle.

But Danu talked her into it.

Nicnevin Diana confessed on her deathbed that Danu showed her Faerie would fail if she didn’t pass the throne to Rose.

My brows furrow at the disquieting thought. That makes the Goddess responsible for the deaths of the two most recent Nicnevins. What happens if she talks Rose into the same thing? What if the biggest threat to Rose isn’t the Fomorians, but the Goddess herself?

Cressida sinks lower in her chair, unbuckling more of the enchanted armour she wears to cover her lower half and revealing the specialised brace her mate invented for her.

There are whispers about how the accident happened, but no one knows for certain. Some believe her power acted out when she met her newest mate, but I know that’s unlikely.

While I’ve accidentally burned others with my fire, it takes a conscious effort to use the power to harm myself. I can’t imagine Cressida’s gift is much different. Which means either it was no accident or someone else withered her lower legs.

If the latter, I can’t imagine they still live. The queen is the most powerful fae to wield withering magic in living memory.

None of that power shows as she looks at the ghost before her. No. All that remains is regret and sorrow. “You could’ve told me. You could’ve said goodbye.”

Maeve bites her lip. “I updated my will before I left. The horse was the goodbye. I wanted you to ride her and think of when we used to sneak out of the Temple and ride through the forest together. Those were the happiest years of my childhood.”

Something thick presses against the inside of my throat, and I swallow it down with impatience, turning slightly so I’m not looking directly at the two of them. I end up meeting the Fomorians’ uncomfortable gazes instead. All three of us are imposing on an acutely private moment. These two queens, both known for being formidable warriors and complete hard-asses, are baring their souls to one another.

And we’re the forgotten interlopers.

“That wasn’t all you left, though, was it?” Cressida drops her head into her hands. “Do you have any idea how much of a pain in the ass your daughter was? Especially as a kid. Spying on my fucking emotions, using her visions to predict every single birthday gift I ever gave her. It was insufferable. Every time I went to see her in the Temple, she got more and more seelie. As an adult, she might as well have been one.”

My eyes bulge out of my skull at the admission. Nicnevin Diana was a well-respected ruler, even to many unseelie, but I suppose Cressida had been mourning her best friend. Seeing Diana grow into Maeve’s polar opposite must have been difficult. It speaks to the closeness between the two that Cressida even went to visit her lost friend’s daughter in the first place.

Maeve shrugs. “I wouldn’t know.” There’s a hollowness to her tone. “I never met the kid. I never wanted one, remember?” She hops up to sit on the table, scattering the tiny metal figures that show the unceasing advance of the Fomorian army. “But I’ve raised this one. Me and the others?—”

“Others?” Cressida’s head snaps up.

“Mab and Titania,” Maeve says. “We kept an eye on her while she was hiding in the mortal realm. It was all we could do to teach her our language. She can barely use her powers.”

“Fuck.” Cressida slams her hand down on the table. “Fuck, fuck, fuck ! What in the world was Diana thinking ?”

“She wasn’t safe in this realm,” I interject. “Her mother protected her the only way she knew would work.”

“So the Nicnevin the Temple has been promising everyone is the saviour of Faerie is about as useful as a wet handkerchief.” Cressida pins Maeve with a look.

“That’s not true,” I retort. “She?—”

“She wants to learn,” Maeve adds, and Cressida rolls her eyes.

“Of course she does. All Diana wanted to do was embroider tablecloths and sneak out to dance at faun parties. Now I suppose her daughter wants to be a warrioress of yore like her grandmother? Wanting to learn is no use to me, Maeve. Do you know how much of my court has been taken over by Fomorians? Half . Almost everything north of the Silfeyn is lost to us. We lost contact with Diana’s son, Prince Uther, and his battalion last week.

“We’re surrounded on all sides. They control the river Torvyn and the sea, and under his leadership”—she points an accusing finger at Caed—“they’ve been squeezing us dry. Now you’re telling me that if I want the Nicnevin’s help, I have to train her myself?”

Goddess. Everyone knew that Autumn had been hit hardest by the invasion, but I had no idea the situation here was so bad. News that Rose’s brother hasn’t reported in is particularly concerning. Uther and his mate are formidable warriors, and if Rose hears of it, she’ll want answers.

“Training her is pointless. Rose isn’t a killer, let alone a warrior,” I argue. “She doesn’t have the instincts?—”

“Oh, I suppose watching her slaughter the fae in Siabetha was just a figment of my imagination?” The damned Fomorian apparently can’t keep his mouth shut any longer. “She’s a glaring fucking vulnerability with a bleeding heart who needs to learn some kind of self-defence before she gets us all killed. You’d rather lock her in a tower than risk her breaking a fingernail, but that’s exactly how she ends up?—”

“You don’t have the right to talk about how we treat our Nicnevin,” I retort. “Your own behaviour?—”

Caed pins me with a glare. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see any of you rescuing her ass from fae trying to kill her on a regular basis.”

“No, we just had to watch her get slaughtered by Fomorians multiple times!”

“Rose has always been clear,” Prae adds, stepping between us before our argument can escalate further. “She wants to learn to defend herself and protect her loved ones. Any other Nicnevin would’ve received at least basic sword training, surely?”

“She doesn’t even know that much?” Cressida’s palm scrubs down her face. “And what use is ‘defending herself’ to me and my court? We need a lethal Nicnevin with the power and viciousness necessary to turn the tide of battle before every tree in the Forest of Whispers is felled and used as fuel for Elatha’s war machine. Not someone only interested in self-defence.” She scoffs the last word.

“She doesn’t need to be lethal,” I retort. “Her Guard are all warriors. If you need more males on the battlefield?—”

“You really think the four of you can make a difference?” Caed says. “There are thousands of Fomorians throwing themselves at this court, and more will be coming with the armada. Sure, they’re headed for Elfhame, but you really think they won’t turn on Illidwen and the other capitals next?”

Maeve turns to the three of us and pins us with a look. “Shut up, all of you. Cress and I are going to figure this out.”

Without waiting for our agreement, she turns back. “She doesn’t need to learn to use a sword. She needs to learn to use her gift.”

“And you think I’m the one to teach her.”

“We both know your mother?—”

“Was insane.” Cressida stands, spine stiffening. “She was ostracised so thoroughly by the court that, in the end, she preferred the company of spirits to the living. Do you not remember us waking up in the night to find her hosting a masked ball for the dead in the grand ballroom?”

Maeve shrugs. “It was fun. We got to try liquor for the first time that night. Why are you complaining? Besides, Rose doesn’t have the… history your mother did.”

Cressida isn’t finished ranting. “Or perhaps you’ll recall that I came to live with you in the Temple once she decided to take a ‘trip’ to the Otherworld to see her mother, just before Samhain.” She strides towards Maeve until they’re toe-to-toe. “Are you ready to watch your granddaughter follow in your footsteps and fall on her own?—”

The slap that echoes off the walls is deafening. “You got a free pass the first time,” Maeve snarls. “But you don’t know Rose well enough to judge her. Your mother’s death was the result of her tattered self-esteem after decades of bullying. Mine was a choice that hurt you, and I’m sorry for that, okay? Rose has grown up without any of the stigma your mother was subjected to, and she’s protected by her status as Danu’s chosen Nicnevin. She’s also… less rash than me. Give her a chance, Cress. I’m begging you.”

The autumn queen looks away, then takes a deep breath before pinning her old friend with a look. “If I do this, you owe me a drink when I join you in the Otherworld.”

Maeve nods solemnly. “I figured I already did.”

Cressida turns her head towards the door. “Naeven!”

One of her mates pops his head through the flap, his eyes lingering on us before turning to his queen. “Yes, love?”

“I’m staying in the capital for a few weeks with the Nicnevin.”

“You’re abandoning the front line?” He gapes at her. “Cress, the warriors?—”

“Will know no difference,” the autumn queen snaps. “General Reyni will remain there, wearing my glamour, for morale.”

Beside me, Caed stiffens, but I ignore him, watching Cressida’s male instead. The autumn queen has three knight-consorts—her mates—though Naeven is often considered her right hand. His magic allows him to send thoughts to whomever he wishes, across vast distances, an invaluable skill for someone planning a war.

He pins us with a furious glare, then bows. “Yes, my queen. Would you like me to remain with her for updates?”

“Yes.” Cressida waves him away, waiting until the flap closes to continue. “You better be right about this, Maeve. If she doesn’t show up, or?—”

“She will.”

“If she doesn’t,” Cressida continues. “I’m dumping her ass at the Winter Court border and coming right back here to continue fighting. I don’t care that she’s your granddaughter.”

“Rose understands how serious this is,” Maeve says. “You have no idea how hard she’s taken?—”

“Spare me.” Cressida strides to the door. “I’ll make my own judgements about her character.”

At that exact moment, Maeve’s outline flickers, and I grimace as I realise Rose’s concentration has failed. Not that it matters much. Maeve has achieved something rare—a promise of mentorship from one of the most formidable minor royals.

But will it last? When I tried to get Annis to teach Rose, I thought that her creepiness might perturb my gentle mate. Creepiness is the least of Cressida’s problems. She’s infamously blunt and hard on her soldiers, and I can’t imagine she’ll make things much easier on Rose.

For all that Caed and Prae are arguing in favour of this, Rose is soft and kind. Hardly a warrior ready to be pushed through gruelling training until her body and mind are on the verge of breaking, and I… I would rather never see her pushed to that point.

Worse still, Cressida and Lore were lovers for decades, though that all stopped when Cressida found her first mate. Although fae understand that relationships outside of mating happen, and are never guaranteed to be permanent, emotions are messy things.

Maeve disappears entirely before she can say goodbye, and Cressida rolls her eyes. “Her focus clearly needs work.”