Chapter 4

Four

Rhoswyn

“ P lease, would you let us into the palace?” I ask, hardly daring to breathe as the two guards on the servant’s entrance stare me down in shock.

They never expected the Nicnevin, two Fomorians, and a severed head to drop their invisibility glamour in front of them. They certainly don’t expect a wave of powerful charm magic.

So they’re defenceless and docile as they open the door.

“Please don’t sound the alarm or let anyone know we were ever here,” I add shakily, as Caed and Prae brush past them. “Just return to your jobs.”

I let my stranglehold on my bond to Danu drop as I hurry after the Fomorians, tugging a new glamour over the three of us as we scurry into the heart of the Summer Court. It’s too easy. In comparison to the gauntlet that was making our way back through the city, using Drystan’s ability to see auras to keep out of the way of patrols, this seems almost suspiciously quiet.

“I don’t like this,” I murmur.

Maeve, beside me, gives my shoulder a cold squeeze that makes my skin prickle. “The majority of his forces are scouring the eastern roads,” she reminds me, “And those that aren’t will be distracted by the merrows.”

I sigh, nodding at the reminder. Cyreus’s allies are busy securing our horses and supplies to leave the Summer Court. A few are even riding away from the city in different directions, wearing a glamour to make them look like me.

Eero’s people will be scouring meadows looking for multiple different Nicnevins. I make a tempting target, alone and unguarded. No one sane would expect me to return to Siabetha with two Fomorians and break my Guard out of the dungeons.

The one good thing about staying in this vipers’ nest for two weeks is that I know the corridors by heart. I lead the way into the torch-lit palace with a confidence I barely feel.

If this goes wrong… No. I can’t even think like that. I’m scared enough.

We pass countless soldiers and servants. Despite our glamour, I hold my breath each time, but they’re not looking for us.

“The dungeon is down there,” I whisper, handing Drystan’s head to Prae as I double check that the corridor we’re in is deserted. “Will you be okay?”

“It’s hardly our first break out from a fae dungeon,” she says dryly. “At this point, I’m practically a professional.”

Caed smirks, but the expression fades as he turns to consider me. “I don’t like leaving you alone.”

He made this argument three times during our planning, and I shouldn’t be surprised he’s brought it up again now.

My logic remains the same. “Bree wouldn’t want you to be there.”

The púca is charmed not to fear me, but Caed? That’s a different story. And if Máel really was one of his ‘patrons’ from the Toxic Orchid, I don’t think Bree will want anyone to see whatever state she’s left him in.

“I think he’d like you unprotected less,” the Fomorian presses.

“He’s right,” Drystan grouches. “Take the blade prince. He can stand outside while you get Bree, but you shouldn’t be alone.” He pauses, amber eyes boring into Caed. “If she gets a scratch…”

“You’ll set my ass on fire again.” Caed rolls his eyes. “How original.”

“She loses her hold on her magic if she’s scared,” Drystan warns him. “And?—”

“I’m right here,” I hiss. “And I’ll be fine. Go get your body back. Caed will protect me.”

“If he doesn’t, I’ll rip his balls off,” Maeve promises, though only Drystan and I can hear her right now.

“Go with Prae,” I tell her, uncomfortable with sending the Fomorian away without anyone to glamour her. I know she’s a capable warrior, but still… “Come find us if anything goes wrong.”

“Send Mab,” Maeve suggests. “I’m handier if you get into a fight.”

And Bree might need Titania’s healing magic.

“Oh, good point.”

Mab appears and gives me a swift nod, before following Prae, who’s already disappearing down the corridor in the direction of the dungeons.

“This way,” I mumble, silently wishing her luck.

Caed follows behind me, a silent presence at my back. We turn a corner, and I hold my breath as I take in the group of soldiers huddled there.

“They can’t see you,” Maeve promises. “Stay calm.”

Her words do nothing to stop me from pressing myself against the wall like I’m trying to merge with it as we sneak past. I definitely don’t even breathe until we’re halfway down the corridor.

“How far?” Caed asks, grinding his teeth.

The tension is getting to him, too. I reach inside myself, checking the bond, even though I know the answer.

Bree is in the royal wing, pretty much the other side of the palace from the dungeons.

“We have to hurry,” I say, instead of answering him.

We pass more guards and even more servants as we reach the busier corridors. Each time they get too close, we slow down, barely breathing, in case it gives us away. Staircases are even trickier, making sound travel farther. Surely, at any moment, we’ll be discovered.

“Hey, kid, breathe,” Maeve says, her voice almost making me jump out of my skin. “The battle is lost if fear defeats you before it starts.”

“The fact that you think there will be a battle is not filling me with confidence,” I mumble under my breath as we slip through the door to the royal wing.

We turn a corner, and I grimace as we almost crash straight into the two people I most wanted to avoid.

Eero is standing in the middle of the corridor, eyes blazing as he stares down at Ciara. His daughter and heir is sprawled on the floor in a mess of pretty skirts, her whole frame rigid like she’s bracing herself, and cradling her cheek with tears in her eyes.

“What good are you if you can’t even find one defenceless Nicnevin?” he demands. “Máel would’ve handed me their heads by now, but all you’ve done is hide out with your books.”

“Nicnevin Rhoswyn spent a lot of time in the library,” Ciara says, words falling over each other. “Please, Father, I was hoping my magic might pick up an imprint on one of the books that might tell us?—”

“I don’t care about ‘hope.’ We need action! Do you even understand the precariousness of the position we are in? The Temple’s resolve hangs by a thread. Most of those spineless priests do not want to stand against any Nicnevin, even a false one. I’m leaving to meet with our allies , and they’re expecting me to report that we’ve ended the problem. When they find out that the Nicnevin isn’t dead, our bargain will be null and void.”

Perhaps the princess realises that none of her begging will make a difference, because her next words are fire.

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have betrayed your own kind!” Ciara snaps, only to cower as Eero raises his hand a second time.

My lips part on a gasp, but Caed’s hand closes over my mouth before I can release the betraying sound.

“Do not speak to me of betraying my own kind when you wear that filthy mark on your leg.” Ciara freezes, and Eero lets out a dark chuckle. “Did you really think I didn’t know, daughter? With all my spies, how did you ever imagine I wouldn’t find out? I’ve half a mind to hand you over as the Fomorians’ next plaything for this.”

Ciara’s face turns ashen, and I think she’s trying to decide whether her father is serious.

“How did you think it would work?” Eero continues. “If you come out of your next fever with a merrow babe, you’d never raise it. They live underwater, you foolish chit. Not only would you disgrace our line, you’d have created an heir who couldn’t even sit on the throne!”

“Better an under fae queen than you?—”

He hits her again, sending her spinning. My hand flies to cover my mouth, forcing back a gasp. The attack is so sudden and forceful that she collapses, head hitting the tiled floor with a crack that echoes down the hall. She lies sprawled and unmoving for a second before Eero realises he’s knocked her out cold.

“Guards!” Eero yells. “Escort my daughter to her chambers and do not let her leave until she’s learned her place. And if you see that merrow skulking around the library, kill him on sight.”

Caed waits until Eero strides away and Ciara has been dragged off to release me, and I almost collapse.

“We need to save her,” I whisper.

“No.” His expression hardens. “We don’t have time, and it’s not in the plan.”

“But she?—”

“Her or Bree, little queen. Pick.”

I glare at him. “That’s not fair?—”

“Life isn’t fair. We can’t get both of them out of here. She’s out cold, and we have no idea what condition the púca is in. So pick. Him or her.”

My stomach churns, and I cast a guilty glance after Ciara. Caed’s right. Her rooms are on the opposite side of the wing to Máel’s, and going there first would only increase our chances of being spotted.

“Bree.”

It’s not even a choice, really. My mates will always come before anyone else, especially a princess who betrayed us—willingly or not.

“Good. Let’s go.” Caed steps forward, capturing my arm and pulling me along until I shrug out of his grip and lead the way. I say a silent apology to Ciara as we pass the hallway to her room and take the stairs on the left that lead to Máel’s instead.

A pair of soldiers are stationed on either side of Máel’s door, muttering between themselves. Their golden armour gleams in the lamplight, throwing reflected light across the walls.

“He’s stopped screaming,” one comments, and I stiffen. “Do you think she’s done?”

“Either that, or she’s waiting for him to wake up so she can start on him again,” the other answers with a shudder. “Better him than me.”

My blood runs cold, and I step out into the hallway, dropping my glamour.

“Rose. Shit!” Caed snarls as Maeve takes my hand and the two of us step towards the guards. Cold rage lengthens my steps, closing the distance between us.

They catch sight of me quickly, reaching for their swords, but Maeve is with me, her hand in mine as she reaches out and grabs the first guard’s wrist mid-swing.

The bones crunch under her grip, and she uses the painful hold to drive him down to his knees. A pale ghostly sword spears his companion through the gut before he can use my distraction against me.

My free hand rips away the first guard’s helmet, and it clatters to the ground, revealing a wide-eyed male with a soft tan and wide blue eyes.

“Please, Goddess,” he says.

How many times did he listen to Bree beg the same way and did nothing? Snarling, I reach forward and rip out his throat.

“So much for quiet and without casualties,” Caed quips, striding past me and bending to unbuckle the fae’s sword belt. “Didn’t think you had it in you, little queen. Here. Killing people is easier with one of these.”

He wraps the leather belt around my waist, over my tattered dress, and arranges the metal so it’s easy for me to draw with my dominant hand. I know this is what I naively wanted when we were in Pavellen, but I still wince at the macabre trophy.

Running my hand over the silver pommel, I let out a long breath.

“That wasn’t Danu,” I realise.

Her rage was there, but the decision—the deathblow—was all me.

“Shake it off, kid.” Maeve’s hand hasn’t left mine. Even now, her strength flows through me. “This isn’t the time or place for an identity crisis.”

I know. But I won’t forget the glassy stare of the dead fae on the floor and the wet sticky feeling of his blood coating me any time soon. Beside him, his companion is still gurgling.

“You used your magic,” I notice, glaring at Caed accusingly.

“It seems I can only call one.” Caed shrugs as he sinks his sword into the chest of the fae, putting him out of his misery. “And only when I’m protecting you. Every other time I’ve tried, it fails, and believe me, I’ve tried. Now, are we saving Bree or not?”

“Máel is in there,” Maeve warns me. “She’s a formidable opponent.”

“So are we,” I reply. “But we’re not going to kill her.”

“We’re not?” Caed asks incredulously.

“You can restrain her, but her death belongs to Bree.”

As much as both Danu and I crave to dispense justice, it’s only right that Bree chooses.

He opens his mouth, then sees I’m serious and closes it again, jaw clenching. “Fine.”

Without waiting to ask if I’m ready, he creaks open the door.

“I’ll go first.” His tone may be quiet, but it brokers no argument. “Stay back until she’s under control.”

I nod, waiting for him to disappear inside, before following. Máel’s rooms are as immaculate as they are luxurious. Siabethan nightshade grows around the edges of the ceiling, the blooms drooping down onto the lush furniture.

I really, really hate that plant. It’s irrational, but it’s a symbol of this toxic court.

The space is lit by crackling braziers, their flames casting menacing shadows across the room.

Máel isn’t in the living area, and I follow Caed towards the open bedroom door.

There’s no sound coming from within, and that sets my teeth on edge as we creep closer. Every breath I take seems too loud, my heartbeat thunders, and beneath it all is this terrifying undercurrent of dread that makes my ribcage feel too tight.

Bree was barely starting to heal from what he went through at the Toxic Orchid before this. Who knows how much damage this will do to his recovery?

I wrap a glamour around us as we slip inside, but it’s not necessary. Máel is standing before a large window overlooking the starlit sea with her back to us, wearing a deep navy robe. She cradles a glass of wine in one hand, the firelight glimmering off it as she shifts her weight slightly from foot to foot, lost in thought. Caed moves past the bed, ignoring everything else in favour of facing the threat.

But the moment my eyes fall to the covers, my heart stops.

Bree is naked and splayed out across the mattress, a bloodied blanket carelessly tossed over his lower half. I force myself not to look too deeply at the bruising and burns across his body and focus on the thick iron collar around his neck instead. Mercifully, Máel has left the key on the table by the door, and I snatch it up in the folds of my skirt, ignoring the way my skin warms through the fabric.

“What are you—?” Máel’s outraged demand cuts off as Caed catches her in a chokehold. His muscles bunch tightly around her throat, not letting go, even when blinding blasts of light start to explode around him like stars.

Closing my eyes against the painful bursts, I leave Caed to deal with the struggling princess, and feel my way across the bed to the collar.

The key slides in easily, and as soon as it’s off, I carefully drag it away from him using a thick, bloodied quilt to protect my skin.

The starbursts have stopped, but Bree’s still not moving.

“Come on, Bree,” I whisper, taking hold of his shoulders and pulling him towards me as I blink away the residual blindness caused by the princess’s magic and cradle his head in my lap. His ears are missing, I realise, as my fingers catch in the sticky red mess where they should be.

She’s cut his ears off.

There are slimy pieces of skin on the bed around him, too. His tattoos. Burning him and beating him wasn’t enough; she cut pieces of him away as well.

With shaking hands, I reach for his arm, unbuckling the leather restraint. Once his limbs are free, I pull his hand towards me. His mark is one of the only unblemished tattoos remaining, his fingers clenched protectively around the rose and skull.

“What are you doing?” Caed demands, still keeping guard over Máel.

“He needs to heal,” I reply. “Titania, I need you.”

My grandmother appears on her knees beside me, her colourful robes paler thanks to the iron’s proximity. I inch us as far from the metal as I can, though Bree’s weight and my reluctance to hurt him hinder my efforts.

“We’ll make it fast,” she promises, staring at him with pity written in the tense lines of her eyes. “Are his ears still here? If we’re lucky, he’ll stay unconscious. Reattaching is easier than regrowing, though it will still be painful.”

I expected as much after healing Caed, but my stomach still turns at the thought of causing him more pain.

Searching through the sheets for his ears is the most gruesome thing I’ve ever had to do. I find a bloodied knife, slivers of skin, and other objects I have no name for scattered amongst the sheets before I come across the first. It takes me hanging over the edge of the bed to discover that his second ear has landed on the rug. I hold the blood-slicked appendages gingerly, hating how cold, rubbery, and lifeless they feel.

We’ll have to regrow whatever tattoos he’s lost, because there are too many missing and I wouldn’t even know where to reattach them.

Taking a deep breath, I hold my connection to Danu tightly in my mind. Titania grips my shoulders as I press the two pointed ears back against Bree’s head. Her healing magic slams into his body in a wave. His back arches under the onslaught, and his emerald eyes snap open, dashing my hopes that he might sleep through this.

Titania is working fast, no doubt eager to get it over with swiftly, for all our sakes. My grandmother is silent, stoic in a way that tells me she’s seen worse before, but I don’t have that luxury.

By the time it’s over, both Bree and I are shaking and crying, but he’s healed. Black tattoos flick across his torso without so much as a single scar to show for his ordeal.

I go to pull away, afraid that I’ll make this whole thing worse by touching him, but he clings to my dress like he’s drowning.

“Rose,” he breathes, hoarsely. “Am I…? Is this real?”

I nod, not trusting the lump in my throat to let the words past.

“Present for you, púca.” Caed slams Máel down on the bed, the iron collar locked around her throat.

Bree scrambles back, even though the bed is so large, there’s no chance of them accidentally touching. Máel is stirring, clawing at her throat before she’s even fully awake.

“I will have your heads for this,” she vows. “Guards! Guards!”

“No one can hear you,” Caed promises. “The guards are dead.”

“Who has your father allied himself with?” I demand, putting myself between her and Bree. “What are his plans?”

Something about the way Eero treated Ciara screamed of more than just anger. There was panic there, and I need to know what could get a fae with the power of invincibility running scared. If more of the minor courts are against me, I have to know.

“Fuck you.”

Bree edges around me, his breath catching at the sight of his tormentor in chains. I feel rather than see the slither of scales as Espen slithers past me. It isn’t the smaller, cuter version of the nathair that I’ve gotten used to, nor the giant one who saved me in Fellgotha, but a serpent as thick as my thigh that makes the bed creak as it wraps itself around Máel’s leg and climbs her body slowly, his black mouth open and fangs exposed.

“Tell my mate what she wants to know,” Bree orders as the snake rears back and hisses in Máel’s fearful face.

The scent of piss—already faint in the room—strengthens as the princess faces down the most painful death known to fae and realises there’s no saving herself.

Bree’s hand crushes mine as we stare down at her.

“You weren’t there ,” she gasps. “They were razing villages. Burning fields. We had to choose.”

“What are you talking about?” I snap, and the snake’s tongue darts out to lick the salty tears from her cheeks.

“The Fomorians,” she confesses. “Draard offered to cut us a deal with their king.”

Draard. I fall back against Bree, shuddering at the memory of the menacing Fomorian who delivered all of those lashes in Elatha’s throne room.

“Eero bargained with Elatha?” My eyes dart up to meet Caed’s, but the frown on his face suggests this is news to him as well. “Why?”

“The nobles were furious that their ancestral lands were being scorched,” Máel says, a hint of disdain creeping into her tone. “They were plotting against us, seeking to replace my father with Ciara, of all people.” She spits her sister’s name. “So he made her crown princess and cut a deal with the Fomorians to stop the raids. As long as we do what Elatha wants, we’ll be left to rule the Summer Court in peace, without any Fomorian ever setting foot on our soil.”

“And when they demanded you turn on your own Nicnevin?” Caed spits. “Did you even care?”

Máel glares back at him. “Where was the Nicnevin when our city was flooded with dirty refugees? Where was the Nicnevin when the Temple started calling for us to open our homes to those who had deserted their lieges’ lands and came crawling to us asking for pity? We were drowning in the filthy poor and the?—”

Espen strikes, his fangs sinking deep into her cheek. His serpentine body draws back and bites again. And again. Each savage slash shakes the mattress with such force that I flinch.

“Your Nicnevin was a child,” Bree hisses as Máel screams. “And you knew better.”

No , I think to myself. She didn’t.

Máel and her father care nothing for the consequences of their actions, or how they affect the rest of Faerie, as long as their rotten paradise remains perfectly under their control.

Máel’s wounds smoke and fizzle, and her limbs quickly start to shake before settling in rigid lines. Her wide-set eyes bulge out of their sockets, and a foamy black line of drool escapes from her mouth.

But her screaming has stopped.

The venom is a paralytic, I remember Bree explaining. It’s the most painful toxin known to fae, and the worst way to die because you’re locked in your body, unable to do anything but feel as it dissolves you from the inside out.

There is no cure.

It’s a fitting end for such a poisonous bitch.

“We need to go,” Caed says, glancing at the door. “If Draard is here, he won’t be alone.”

I hesitate. Bree deserves to see Máel’s death, to know that she’ll never be waiting around a corner to drag him back into this hell, but he stands anyway.

“Don’t let go of me.” His hand tightens on mine as the snake slithers back up his arm and sinks into his skin with a last affectionate lick.

“Never,” I vow, pulling him towards the doorway where Caed is already disappearing.

With a final look at the dying princess, I tip over one of the lit braziers by the door, watching dispassionately as the flames eagerly leap from their prison and steadily eat their way across the lush rug and up the tendrils of sickly sweet nightshade.

As we flee, I say a silent prayer to Danu that the fire consumes every last inch of the place where Máel tortured my mate. I can’t say I’d mind if it spread to the rest of the palace as well.