Page 111 of Amidst the Insidious Courts
Siabetha truly is beautiful. The kind of idyllic paradise that I would never have dreamed existed before I came to Faerie.
Pity I’ve also seen firsthand how cruel the fae here can be. My hands clench on the arms of my throne as I recall how they cheered with every scream of pain that echoed from the Toxic Orchid.
Finally, the view is stolen by thick chiselled walls, and then we burst back into the dying sunlight in a courtyard that’s heady with the scent of Siabethan Nightshade and tinkling with the sound of polite conversation.
We appear to have emerged right into the middle of a party, and as soon as we make our appearance, the conversation ceases.
Dimly, I’m aware of someone announcing me and of Drystan stiffly offering me his arm to lead me off the ship. I do my best to offer polite smiles to the gathered fae as we walk amongst them, following the princesses.
Polite. Diplomatic. Friendly. I can do this.
My smiles are returned, and I begin to relax.
“The púca is losing it,” Maeve comments.
Thirty-Four
Bricriu
The creeping dread only grows worse the longer we’re in their presence.
Unbeknownst to Rose and the others, I’ve been doing my best to prepare for this moment since we left the Spring Court. I knew we’d inevitably cross paths with Máel—although the princess would never ever admit to fucking an under fae—and I wanted to make sure I did nothing to embarrass Rose when we did.
It doesn’t mean the breath isn’t stolen from my lungs at the sight of her. All the preparation in the world can’t stop the memories of what she did to me flashing before my eyes. Chains. Whips. Blades. Her voice is a serrated knife edge against my spine, and—
Drystan moves, taking Rose’s arm and leading her down into the crowd, breaking my spiral. I look up, realising I’ve missed the entire trip up on the chain lift, and then freeze. Beside me, Jaro stiffens, followed by Lore. The tail of Drystan’s coat catches fire, then winks out.
My brain ices over, the runoff trickling down my back until I jerk.
So many familiar avaricious eyes look up from bowing faces. Hundreds of nightmare memories rush forward until my skin prickles with the urge to draw a blade from the ink there, and I cross my arms to hold the urge back.
Don’t say anything. Don’t make any strange movements. Nothing.
Why would anyone…?
I knew. I knew it had to be a good portion of the nobility who had made use of myservices, but it seems every second face in the gathered crowd is one of them. If Rose finds out… If Danu breaks through…
Eero will have a very valid reason to withhold his vow of allegiance if the Nicnevin slaughters the crowd assembled to greet her before even talking to them.
“Why is Amberlea here?” Jaro mutters under his breath.
“More importantly,” Lore adds, not bothering with any kind of subtlety. “Why is every whore I’ve fucked in the last three centuries here?”
Rose stiffens.
Don’t turn. Don’t turn. Please, don’t turn.If she turns, there’s no hiding how my nails are digging half-moons into my arms, or the way my tattoos are swirling across my skin. My ears are flat against my skull, and the moment Rose sees…
There’s nowhere to hide, either.
My vision narrows, and as a last resort, I fix my gaze on the back of her rose-gold hair and make myself count the beads someone has woven into the braided bun nestled at the nape of her neck. Heart pounding sharp and fast, I follow as Drystan escorts her through the crowd.
There’s nothing but her. Only her. She is all. She isall.
The final sealing words of the Oath play on repeat, and I match them to my mechanical steps.
The princesses, maybe even Eero himself, must be behind this. It’s not just every single one of my regular ‘patrons,’ but Lore’s and Jaro’s words make it clear their old lovers are present, too. Those must be the faces I don’t know.
No fae would be stupid enough to do something like this. As a species, we’re fiercely territorial of our mates. Unless…
