Page 139 of Amidst the Insidious Courts
Beyond the crowd, I finally spot King Eero himself. He’s huge, almost as tall as Jaro. Even seated, his presence is impressive, made grander by his golden tunic and the enormous stained-glass window behind his throne, which depicts the sun like a halo around his head.
On either side of his throne, Máel and Ciarra stand demurely. No one says a word as Drystan and I walk towards them. The sound of the waves coming from below the royal tower and the cawing of gulls fills the air.
I almost stop when I catch sight of a familiar face—Mervyn—at the edge of the room. Butterflies erupt in my stomach, but Drystan is still moving, his solid presence forcing me to do the same.
He doesn’t falter, even when Eero shocks me by standing and moving aside, as Aiyana should’ve done that first day. Leaving the throne to me.
Maybe this will all be okay, I think to myself. Surely, no one would give up their throne unless they were preparing to speak the vow?
Drystan releases me at the bottom of the dais, turning to face down the rest of the room as I climb the two steps up to the throne by myself. Turning, I survey the room one last time, scanning for a threat. For anything amiss.
Nothing. My head is pounding, and I think I even sway a little.
“You’re doing great,” Titania urges, when my hesitation lasts a littletoolong. Her voice is so quiet, almost like she’s getting farther away, and it’s a struggle to hear her.
Maeve agrees, floating on my other side. “Once he’s spoken the vow, you can interrogate him about where the rest of your Guard has gone.”
Swallowing the dry lump in my throat, I do as they say. The backs of my knees hit the surprisingly cold metal of the throne first. I lower myself carefully, arranging my skirts as soon as my ass hits the cushion.
When I’m seated, my hands rest lightly on the arms, and I turn my attention to the king in front of me.
Chink.
My guides disappear, gone like they were never there. Looking down, I find my wrists encased in shackles.
Ironshackles. They’ve sprung from inside the chair, pinning my hands down so tightly that I can’t move. Suddenly, my guides’ quietness and my headache make a sick kind of sense.
Already, my skin is blistering, though the pain takes longer to register. My eyes water, and I hiss out a pained breath.
Drystan notices, whirling on his heel. When he sees the cuffs, his hands catch fire.
“You dare—!” he growls, striding forward, drawing his sword.
That’s when the glamour drops.
What I’d thought were a hundred tightly packed beautiful courtiers is quickly revealed to be a full contingent of armoured soldiers. Drystan hasn’t noticed—he’s too busy swinging the blade at Eero’s head.
It connects and—
Shatters.
What? No! How?
“Seize him.” Eero scratches at the spot on his neck with a grimace. “Quickly.”
“Release the Nicnevin, you traitorous—”
Lore blinks into the room, Bram and a handful of other redcaps at his side. My youngest brother is wearing armour and all of them are carrying swords of their own. The Summer Court soldiers, realising that things are getting out of hand, immediately leap into action, and the battle is on. Chaos erupts. Redcaps whoop in glee at the promise of bloodshed, and Bram dodges out of the way.
My youngest brother may be a scholar, but it’s clear he’s had training. His sword—a delicate needle of a blade—flashes like lightning between his opponents.
Lore, however, ignores all of the bloodshed and heads straight for me, gripping my shoulder as he blinks… and I go nowhere.
“Their hats!” Máel cries. “Take their hats!”
“It’s the iron,” I whimper, tears staining my cheeks. “I need…”
In a blink, Lore is gone, and then he’s back with Drystan beside him. “Melt them,” the redcap says. “Once she’s free, I can—”
