Page 105 of Beneath a Shattered Sky
I swallow, trying to clear the bitter taste of the lie, but no one calls him on it. I doubt he even realises it’s an untruth, but it’s clear his fae family’s rejection has cut him.
Then again, perhaps he secretly believes he should be used to it now, given the Fomorian penchant for familicide. It’s unfair that he should be born of both fae and Fomorian, and yet be accepted by neither.
“We’ve got to visit a few more shrines along the northern coast.”
“We’re still doing that shit?” Caed mutters in disbelief. “Really?”
“Only the ones that fall directly on our route to the Torvyn,” I promise.
Prae offers her cousin a sympathetic smile. “It’s mostly a ruse, anyway. The pilgrimage gives Rose an excuse to practise unleashing her necromancy on the Fomorians. The more of them we kill, the more likely Cressida will send troops to help Elfhame.”
“The Queen is refusing to send her soldiers?” Uther looks toward his mate with concern. “She?—”
“We don’t have the numbers,” Illarion concedes, his mouth set in a grim line. “The Nicnevin’s plan makes sense. Retaking the forts along the coast will give us a chance to secure the capital. Cressida will want an adamantine defence system in place before she sends troops anywhere.”
“Our battalion will come, even if the others don’t.” Uther flares his wings and pulls the previously damaged one around to examine it, nodding appreciatively before releasing it. “I would sooner hang from the palace branches than leave Florian to fight alone.” He pauses. “Can you imagine the ribbing from our brothers if I was the only one to miss out on kicking the Fomorians back to Fellgotha?”
Jaro nods, tipping a handful of chopped meat into the pot over the fire, where it sizzles and pops under the heat. “Hopefully it won’t come to that. Besides, this way we can kill two valravne with one stone. Whenever Rose blesses a shrine, it makes Eero and that awful priest look like morons, and there are quite a few near to the most strategic forts.”
“Priest?” Uther frowns.
“Grand Cleric Mervyn.” I sigh in resignation. How is it that our list of enemies only seems to grow with each passing week.? “He’s decided that the Fomorians are responsible for ‘corrupting’ my Guard.”
“He’s an elitist prick,” Drystan snarls. “A pesky gnat in the grand scheme of things.”
“One who’s successfully campaigned to have the high priestess removed and who is preaching his heresy wherever he goes.” Jaro scrubs at his beard, his tone dark with caution. “We’d be foolish to underestimate him.”
Caed rolls his eyes. “How about we just send the redcap to kill the priest?”
“Yes, why aren’t we doing that?” Lore asks, blinking beside me to offer me some of his berries. “Can I kill him?”
That idea is distressingly tempting. Between him, Torrance, Eero, Elatha… Just having one less enemy after my head would surely be better than nothing, right? A fearful part of me pipes up, reminding me that things are never that simple in Faerie. There’s always a price with the fae.
“Killing him just risks making him a martyr.” Bree strokes his tattoos as a crevice forms between his brows.
“Yes,” Jaro acknowledges reluctantly. “And Eero will no doubt use it as ‘proof’ that you’re trying to silence anyone who objects to Caed’s presence on your Guard.”
“Just kill the asshole.” Drystan shrugs at Jaro’s exasperated expression. “Politics like that is a waste of time. You are the Nicnevin. Questioning you is questioning Danu, and the unseelie won’t respect a Nicnevin who allows so much dissent in her own temple.”
“If the redcap is taking requests,” Caed adds. “I vote to make it painful. He deserves it.”
“I wish Kitarni were here.” I lean into Lore, letting him tuck my hair behind my ear. His fingers graze the sensitive tip, derailing my thoughts for a second before I continue, “She’s the head of the Temple. She’ll know what is the best course of action.”
And she’d probably be less biassed about it than my Guard.
Lore shrugs, then blinks away, leaving me stumbling to regain my balance.
“Goddess, when he does that, I never know if someone is going to die,” I mumble.
“I’d give it good odds,” Caed agrees. “For what it’s worth, if he kills the fucker, I’m sure he’ll make it hurt.”
Ordinarily, I’d never wish that on anyone, but Mervyn set in motion the events that led to the disaster that was Siabetha, and by extension, Bram’s death. He was even involved in the mess in Pavellen.
“I hope he does.” I say it so quietly that I almost hope they don’t hear, but Bree’s ears twitch tellingly.
“Careful,” the púca warns. “If you get too bloodthirsty, Lore might take it as an invitation to introduce you to a proper redcap fucking.”
“For Goddess’s sake, what does that evenmean?” I’ve got my guesses, put together from tidbits dropped here and there, but no one will outright say it, and it’s making me nervous.
