Page 12 of Beneath a Shattered Sky
“It’s irrelevant,” he argues.
Mab shakes her head and tells me, anyway. “Eero’s alternating between your males, torturing them in an attempt to get them to reveal your whereabouts. The king and Máel both hope that, with enough persuasion, your Guard will begin to drain you, making your capture easier.”
And none of them have. My heart breaks a little.
My breath hisses between my teeth. “Andhowis that not relevant?” I demand. “I’d say knowing if you’re all too weak towalk out of the dungeons of your own accord is pretty essential information. Why are none of you drawing from me? I’m safe now. I could heal you.”
Drystan scoffs. “You don’t get it, do you? It doesn’t matter if they’ve broken every bone in our bodies. If you need us to move, we’ll crawl.”
The word conjures memories of the night when he made me crawl for him, and the dark gleam in his eyes makes me wonder if he’s remembering the same thing.
“Good,” Mab interrupts, dousing my heated thoughts in cold water. “Because you might have to.”
“No, they won’t.” I pace the length of the fire. “I’m going to charm us into the temple. Once we’ve got Kitarni, we’ll head to the palace. Kitarni will be?—”
Maeve shakes her head. “The high priestess is in no danger.”
Aghast, I turn to her. “I’m not leaving her behind.”
I can’t. For all that her faith sometimes intimidates me, she’s my rock.
“The temple is on the other side of the city,” Mab reminds me diplomatically. “Your chance of discovery goes up exponentially if you try to stage two rescues. Better to free your redcap, and then have him blink her out of the city later.”
Her words make sense, but that doesn’t mean I have to like them. “Fine. I’ll charm us past the palace gates.”
Drystan sighs. “Given your flaky mastery of that ability, I would like to request a different plan.”
“It appeared to work well enough last night.” I gesture to the Fomorian who’s slouched on the sand, balls safely hidden behind crossed ankles as he rests his elbows on his knees. Prae is reclining next to him, popping summer berries into her mouth one by one.
“Nice to see you’re both so invested.”
Prae snorts. “When you decide to host a war meeting and not a lovers’ tiff, I’ll contribute.”
My shoulders slump. She’s right. “I’ve not done this before.”
“Are you a Nicnevin?” she asks, meeting my gaze. “Act like one. If you were a Fomorian general, you’d have flogged both of them for speaking out of turn and the spirits for derailing the meeting.”
My mouth twitches. “I think I’d like to rule with less corporal punishment, if it’s all the same to you.”
It doesn’t earn me a smile. “The principle is the same. You’re in command. Act like it.”
Goddess, I wish it were that simple. Maybe it would be if I knew what I was doing.
Sighing, I shove my fingers through my hair. “An all-out assault is impossible with just the four of us, so we’re going to have to sneak inside. Once we’re there, we can glamour ourselves and split up. I’ll be useless in the dungeon with all that iron, so it makes sense for me to find Bree and regroup with you later.”
“What’s our escape route?” Caed asks.
“Jump?” Maeve suggests dryly.
“They’d break every bone in their bodies.” Mab shakes her head. “But I suppose as a last resort, it did work quite well…”
“You have to assume that they’ll discover missing prisoners fast,” Titania counsels. “Flying worked all right the first time, but they’ll have learned from their mistakes. At the very least, Eero will have the beaches guarded.”
Guarded or not, it doesn’t matter. The way my wings are still aching means flying is out of the question, and the Fomorians couldn’t do it, anyway.
Scrubbing a hand down my face, I look at the others. “Lore will blink us out.”
“If he’s conscious,” Drystan reminds me. “He’s still healing, and his aura is dim. What’s the backup plan?”
