Chapter 5

Five

Bricriu

I ’m floating. The only thing keeping me grounded is the heat of Rose’s tiny hand in mine. I should pull away—she shouldn’t dirty herself by touching Máel’s leftovers—but I can’t bring myself to do it. My position at the back allows me to watch as my Nicnevin follows Caed through the palace without question, stopping when he stops, tensing when he does. Fae stream past us as the smoke begins to spread, shouts of ‘fire’ filling the air, but my magic reaches out and mutes their calls for aid.

Let the place burn.

Something must have happened. Something big enough to drive Rose to trust him , of all people.

Máel’s earlier words haunt me, and the ball of dread that hasn’t truly dissipated since I followed my father into their trap grows heavier. What did they do? Was Rose hurt?

Given the state of her dress, and the blood splattered across it, I can only assume she was. My hand clenches on hers until my fingers go numb.

I should let go. I’m probably hurting her, though she hasn’t complained.

But her presence is the only thing keeping my screams from escaping. Her violet eyes keep finding me, checking on me, as we head through the palace. She’s so distracted that I’m pretty sure Caed must’ve taken over the responsibility of glamouring us.

Why did she come? Why put herself at risk for me? She knew I was in Máel’s bed. She knew what was happening, what the summer princess was doing.

And she came anyway. She’s touching me anyway. Even with the reek of another female clinging to my skin, she refuses to abandon me. My eyes are stuck to the place where we’re joined, not because it’s uncomfortable, but because it’s the only part of me that isn’t crawling with the memory of Máel.

Mercifully, the Toxic Orchid’s collection of powerful potions that would’ve forced my body to grow hard for Máel burned with the whorehouse. That didn’t stop her from trying to force a reaction. Thank the Goddess, nothing she tried worked. That was when she decided to pour her frustration into my torture. Punishing my body for denying her.

Torture I can take, but those touches before…

Shuddering, I have the sudden, selfish urge to yank Rose to me and rub against her. To use her scent and her presence to erase the wrongness that writhes beneath my skin.

Maybe it’s because she charmed me so I couldn’t fear her, or maybe it’s simply because she’s my mate, but right now she’s the one fragment of sanity I have left. I cling to her shamelessly, using her presence as a shield from the rawness scraping at my insides. In fact, I’m so focused on her that I don’t notice we’re not headed for the exit until the windows disappear, and the corridors take on the cool, damp scent that’s unique to underground places.

We’re heading for the dungeon.

I pull her to a stop. “This isn’t the way out.”

Is the Fomorian leading us into a different kind of trap? I summon Naris’s ears with a brush of my free hand, listening for any sign of an ambush.

“The others are down here,” she promises. “We have a plan. I promise, it’ll all be okay.”

Trust me , those violet orbs plead. And I do. It’s Caed I don’t trust.

“Come on,” Caed hisses, looking over his shoulder at the two of us. “There are more guards than there were before. You have to stay close.”

She nods, pulling me along gently, like she thinks I’ll shatter if she uses any real force. Maybe I will. The entrance to the dungeon is conspicuously absent of guards, but we find the two of them a few steps down the spiral stairwell, missing their heads.

At the reminder of the threats around us, Naris’s sensitive ears twitch on my head, catching the sound of fighting at the bottom of the stairwell.

“Battle, below us,” I warn, drawing a blade from the ink along my thigh.

Naked isn’t my preferred way to fight, but I’ll do worse to protect Rose.

“How many?” Caed asks.

“I’ve got good hearing,” I mumble. “But I’m not psychic . It sounds like enough.”

He nods, raising his sword. “Wait here.”

I should protest, or offer my help, but I’m too relieved. I don’t want to be within touching distance of anyone who isn’t my mate. Even healed, I’m not sure I can release Rose long enough to be of use, and I’m not dragging her into danger.

The Fomorian disappears into the darkness, leaving the two of us to wait in hushed anticipation.

My ears twitch as the sounds of fighting intensifies for a brief second, followed by a gruff. “What took you so fucking long?”

“We took the scenic route,” Caed retorts.

“Where’s my pretty pet?” Lore demands. “I want Rose.”

“It’s safe,” I tell Rose, because if Lorcan and Drystan are speaking so casually, then the fighting must be over, and I’ll feel better having her surrounded by her Guard.

She nods and continues the descent, and I frown as I realise I can hear waves crashing at the bottom. Where exactly does this lead?

The answer comes soon enough as we emerge into half a room. The walls and floor are tiled, stained and dirty, and the other half of the space is cut away entirely, leaving only empty air and the dark foreboding waves of the sea below. We must be beneath the stone arch. Dozens of cages hang from the rocky ceiling above, suspended over the ocean drop by rusty chains.

Iron. Cages.

Rose wobbles, and I go from being supported to supporting her as she trips on the final step.

“Sorry,” she murmurs. “Goddess… I hate this stuff.”

Keeping her hand in mine, I adjust us so her arm is hooked in mine.

“How did I never find this place?” I ask, confusion breaking through the fog for a second.

My animals and I canvassed every inch of the palace in my search for my father. Yet, I never saw even a hint that all this was down here.

“The door was enchanted,” Rose mumbles. “Drystan figured it out when they took his body up to the throne room for interrogation. It was so well done that even my guides didn’t spot it until they knew where to look.”

The floor is littered with dead bodies, and Rose stoops, swiping a wad of pink fabric from her pocket and dragging it through the blood. Wait. Is that Lore’s cap?

Just how bad did things get while I was separated from the others?

Caed struggles with a wheel set into the wall, putting all of his strength into the mechanism that will pull the cages along the overhead rails.

“This is…” Rose says.

“Fomorian engineering,” Prae finishes, examining the network of chains and cogs instead of helping her cousin. “Shoddy work, though. I would’ve done much better. Does anyone want to explain why a seelie court has a Fomorian-made dungeon?”

“Eero made a deal with them,” Rose replies, her voice thin. “We can talk about it when we’re out of here.”

“The palace is now on fire,” Caed comments. “So we may want to get a move on with the escaping.”

“What the fuck did you do?” Prae growls at him.

“Hey! Don’t blame me! I had no idea Rose was such a pyromaniac.”

Rose shrugs, surprisingly unaffected though her cheeks have grown pink. “I’m beginning to think it’s a theme with this stupid city.”

Squeezing her hand—because I know that will weigh heavily on her later when the primal urge to take vengeance on those who hurt her mates subsides—I guide her towards a spot in the corner where there’s less iron.

With a heavy crunch , Caed finally manages to get the wheel working. The first cage that rolls to a stop is empty, as is the second, but the third contains a very angry dullahan, with shadows for a skull and flames for eyes.

Prae flicks through a set of iron keys she must have taken from one of the soldiers, testing several, before she manages to find the right one. The second the door is open, Drystan jumps down and holds his hands out expectantly.

No one else seems surprised when the Fomorian princess passes him his own head.

Goddess… I’m not even going to ask how she got that.

The second his head is on, the black ribbon curling across his throat, he makes his way over to us. The wounds across his body are already visibly starting to close now that he’s out of the iron box.

“Turn around.” It takes a second for me to realise he’s not talking to me, but to our mate.

She eyes him warily but acquiesces.

“I’m going to touch your wings,” he warns her.

Then surprises both of us by sinking his fingers into the muscles of her shoulders and kneading.

“You should’ve let the damned Fomorian do this as soon as he found you,” he tuts. “Your back is so knotted and tight. How much does it hurt?”

Rose shrugs, her face tightening as he touches a particularly sore spot. “I’m used to pain.”

My gut sinks. She was in pain this whole time, and she still risked herself like this? Drystan’s expression echoes my frustration.

We should never have let this happen. This is on us. All of it.

The clunk of a new cage door opening is all the warning we get before Lore is there, tumbling from his cage wearily. His disorientation disappears after a few staggering steps, and seconds later, he’s blinking around the room like a tornado.

“I’m free!” he sings, seemingly ignorant of his bruised and broken body. “Oh, I’ve been so bored! It’s been days since I killed anything.” He presses a kiss to Rose’s lips, then blinks away, giving me space that I’m grateful for. “I’ll clear our exit route?—”

Drystan’s hand seizes the redcap’s collar. “Save your energy. Rose has a job for you later.”

“She does ?” he swoops in and kisses her again. “I will gift wrap the heads of your enemies. I’ll even fill their eye sockets with glitter.”

He blinks away from Drystan’s hold, landing on top of the crank wheel. “Mush, mush! Wolfie needs to cuddle his mate.”

The next cage is Wraith, who leaps down with a snap of agitation. The creatures of Faerie dislike iron as much as the fae, though they don’t have such severe reactions to it. The barghest shakes out his fur, strands of it raining everywhere, before he stretches deeply and comes over to lick Rose’s face affectionately.

Next comes Jaro, completely naked, and I grimace at the green-grey tinge to his skin as he staggers out of the cage. He’s not suffering from iron poisoning, not yet, but it’s clear the metal has been working on him for some time.

Instead of heading straight for Rose, as I expect, he runs for the wheel and starts helping Caed turn it.

“Faster,” he snaps.

I crane my neck, trying to see what the urgency is, only to grimace at the two figures who come into view.

Prince Dare, I recognise. He was at court when I was still performing. I liked him then, but the affable grin and twinkle in his eyes is missing now as he half-falls from the cage, cradling a limp banshee in his arms.

Like Jaro, his skin is greying, blending with the silver-blond of his hair. He’s lost weight, but he doesn’t let that stop him as he staggers towards Rose.

“My lady,” he begs, falling to his knees as he presents the black-veined banshee to his sister. “Please, I’ll do anything. Save her. Sir Jaromir said you could save her.”

Goddess only knows how long they’ve been imprisoned. The banshee’s pale skin is almost invisible beneath the lines of black, and at her side, a puncture wound that must be the source of the infection is blistered and surrounded with dried blood. She stinks. I don’t need Espen’s tongue to detect the smell of rot and infection.

Is she even breathing?

Rose’s eyes well with water, and I can’t tell if that’s Jaro’s continued refusal to acknowledge her, or because she knows who this is, or simply her big heart beating in solidarity with someone in pain.

“Lore, can you take us away from this iron?” she asks the redcap. “I can’t reach my magic here.”

“Take Rose and Yvaine to this beach,” Drystan says, waving his hand so the floor disappears beneath a glamoured recreation of a ramshackle fishing hut on a deserted beach. “You’ll find a merrow waiting there. Prince Dare?—”

“I’m not leaving my mate’s side,” he snarls.

Drystan bows his head. “I would expect no less. The redcap can retrieve our gear, and the rest of us will attempt to recover the high priestess from the Temple.”

“And Princess Ciara,” Rose finishes, “Right?”

Drystan’s eyes flick across our gathered group for a second, and I can read the regret there.

“If an opportunity presents itself,” he says, carefully.

Rose is so busy reaching for Lore that she can’t see the guarded expression on his face. She pulls her hand from mine, and a lump forms in my throat as Lore disappears with her.

Taking deep breaths, my hands run up and down the tattoos on my arms. The true horror of the last few days, which Rose’s presence had warded me from, is there, in the phantom brush of fingers and blades against my skin.

This is fine. I am fine.

Without meaning to, I start to back away from the others. Needing space. Needing air. My breath is shaky enough that Drystan notices.

Lore reappears, taking the banshee next, and Prince Dare lets out a strangled noise that’s halfway between a sob and a scream, yet perfectly encompasses how I feel.

No. I’m fine. I’ve endured worse. I’m healed.

Then he’s gone, too. I barely even saw Lore come and go, but he pops back into existence on Jaro’s shoulders, whistling like all’s right with the world.

“Bricriu,” Drystan says, and I realise belatedly he’s been talking to me. “Are you well enough to do this?”

I look across the group of us, wondering how we got to this. Jaro won’t meet anyone’s eyes, the Fomorian is hovering at the edge of the group like he expects to be shoved into a cage at any moment, and Praedra is fumbling for something in her bag.

My heartbeat is hammering in my ears, but if we’re to have any chance of rescuing the high priestess, I need to suck it up and hold out for a few more hours. Just a little longer, until I can find somewhere quiet and scrub the memory of Máel’s touch from my skin.

“Of course he is,” Lore says, grinning as he blinks in front of me. “After all, what better therapy is there than slaughtering the ones who hurt you?”

In his outstretched hand is a familiar scorched blade.

Familiar because the last time I saw it, it was being pressed to my ears.

The breath leaves my lungs in a rush, and I step back automatically. Lore is offering me the chance for revenge. To cut my way through all of them and do to the Summer Court what I did to the whorehouses in Elfhame.

Pain for pain.

But it wasn’t enough before. It won’t be this time.

“I need Rose,” I whisper. “I can’t… I’m not…”

I don’t deserve her, now more than ever, but her presence is the only thing in this world that feels safe. The one thing which might stop me wanting to finish what Máel started and bathe in acid to erase the memory of the princess’s touch.

Lore’s red eyes twinkle, as he says, “Well, when courting a female, it’s best practice to either jazz up your dick, or wear clothes.”

It’s oddly reassuring to know he’s still certifiably insane.

Drystan hisses at him to shut up, but oddly enough, having my dick commented on by Lore distracts me from the room upstairs.

I look down at my nude body and shrug. Then, just to mess with him, I caress the snake tattoo on my arm.

“What. The. Fuck?” Caed snaps, as every eye in the room is magnetised to my cock.

Or rather, cocks.

Lore pouts. “I meant put some clothes on, not out-do me!”

“Poor female,” Prae mumbles under her breath, turning away. “Ancestors, there are some things I never needed to see.”

“Do you think I can find someone to graft an extra dick onto me?” Lore asks Drystan, his expression dead serious, eyes pleading. “We’re being outdone , dullahan. She’ll love him more if he has twice the cock to give.”

Sighing, I release the hold on Espen, and my cock returns to normal. As much as Lore might be worried, I won’t show Rose that particular trick. Even if, biologically speaking, only one of them is supposed to go inside a female at a time, every other fae has wanted nothing to do with the ‘dirty animal’ side of me.