Page 106 of Beneath a Shattered Sky
Suddenly, every other person in the camp has somewhere else to look. They almost look… nervous?
Drystan shatters the moment by changing the subject with the subtlety of a club. “What exactly happened in there, Fomorian? Just how many of our plans did you hand over to the enemy?”
Caed glares at him. “I don’t break under torture, asshole, and for the record, most of my injuries were just a good, old-fashioned Fomorian greeting for traitors.”
“You’re avoiding the question,” Jaro remarks.
The shifter’s tone is deliberately non-confrontational. Too bad that Drystan isn’t on the same page.
“Did you tell them anything, yes or no?” my dullahan demands.
They’re toe-to-toe now, the promise of violence heavy in the air. “How could I do that when you tell me to fuck off whenever the map comes out?”
“You know enough. You know that we’re headed to Winter. You know Rose’s weaknesses?—”
“Just tell him you didn’t spill our secrets and be done with it,” Bree mutters, his hands stroking over his tattoos.
“Enough.” Gryffin stands, putting himself between the two of them. “Your pissing match isn’t helpful. Besides, he’s right. What could he possibly have told them when he’s never involved in any of our strategy meetings?”
“He—” Drystan starts, but I huff out an exhausted breath, and the dullahan stops himself. His exasperated look as he pins me to the spot speaks volumes. “I don’t trust it. Anything could’ve happened in that camp.”
“Caed’s healing,” I say. “He’s just been through a lot. Surely this inquisition can wait until he’s at least cleaned himself up, and then perhaps you could try being a little nicer about it?”
The answering stiffness in his shoulders and the clenching of his jaw assures me that this isn’t over, but Drystan stalks away, honouring my request—or at least part of it.
I turn to Caed next, softening my tone. “If you want to talk about it, I’m happy to listen, but if you don’t, that’s fine, too.”
I’m curious about his escape, and more than a little worried about his mental state after surviving it, but he tends to shut down when I push… He and Drystan have that in common.
“I, for one, wouldn’t mind hearing how you managed to slip free and slaughter an entire camp of Fomorians,” Jaro adds.
“It’s a lot easier when you don’t have to worry about iron.” Caed relaxes, busying himself with food, dismissing the subject.
Gryffin, sensing the moment has passed, returns to Prae’s side, and she rolls her eyes at him, mouthing, “Kiss ass.”
“We’ll head off to rejoin the rest of our battalion,” Illarion says grimly, after several long minutes. “Once everyone is well enough to travel, we’ll rejoin General Reyni’s troops and convince her and the queen to send us to Elfhame.”
“You think they’ll listen to you?” Drystan isn’t even trying to conceal his scepticism.
“I have been her Knight for centuries.” Illarion draws himself up to his full height. “Cressida will concede if I press hard enough. She respects her warriors.”
Like she respected Gryffin?I think darkly.
“Call, and we will be there.” Uther bows low. “With as many swords as we can muster.”
Given Cressida’s anger at me, I’m pretty sure the chances of an Autumn Court battalion riding to Elfhame’s aid are slim to none, but I manage a grateful smile in response, even as my gut churns anxiously.
Thirty-Two
Lorcan
Rose wants her high priestess, so her high priestess she shall have.
I pop into Kitarni’s room in Siabetha Temple with a grin…
Only to find it empty.
Odd. She’s been staying in relative comfort in this room since we escaped the city. Maybe she got fed up with the lack of a view. It is basically a cell, after all, even with all the comforts it holds. Well, this is rude. She could’ve at least told me…
