Page 120 of Beneath a Shattered Sky
Her curiosity is natural, I remind myself, even as it snags on the edges of old wounds and draws blood.
“Snowchild is what the Winter Court fae name orphans whose parentage is unknown,” Bree explains softly, sparing me. “There are variations. Seaborn for summer, Bloomwrought for Spring, and I think Autumn’s is something like Boughbairn…”
“My mother was locked into the Temple Cloister every single time she showed so much as a hint of fever.” I take over. “As such, she quickly decided the best way to foil Cedwyn’s edict was to have a child. The only way to guarantee that child’s survival was to ensure that it belonged to Cedwyn himself. It would make an Iceblyd heir to the throne of winter and achieve what her father had set out to.”
The ultimate revenge.
Rose’s hands tighten in her lap, and I drop the necklace.
“It took almost a century, but she was eventually able to convince a trader to sell her a potion designed to bring on early fever, along with others to boost her fertility and conceal the symptoms.” Nausea burns at the back of my throat the way it always does when I dwell too deeply on the manner of my making. “Hawkith concealed her symptoms, feigning a poisoning attempt that excused her absence at court. She had a few loyal maids who helped her to Cedwyn’s chambers.”
“She raped him.” Rose can’t contain her horror, and I look away sharply. “Sorry,” she whispers, realising her error.
Her body snuggles closer to mine, and I frown, wondering if she’s seeking warmth. My magic complies, raising the temperature another degree before I continue.
“She made a miscalculation. Cedwyn’s paranoia is legendary. The Winter King doesn’t sleep unless there’s someone he trusts there to protect him.”
Someone like Ashton, who’d given away his name to his older brother when he was young.
“Cedwyn wasn’t alone. My uncle was caught up in the fever’s grip, too, and so Hawkith’s plan to bear the next heir was only half-successful. There was no way to know who my true father was, and that gave Cedwyn the out he needed. He also… ensured he was present at my birth, so he could ensure that my name wasn’t recorded as Iceblyd in the book of names, as it should’ve been, foiling Hawkith a second time.”
As a grown male, I can see the malice on both sides. Given how much my parents hate each other, and me, I’m lucky to still live.
“He ordered a fae with the magic of withering to work with the palace healers to destroy my mother’s ability to have more children.” Mutilating her internal organs beyond what any magic could fix. “She was permitted to raise me, but only under his careful supervision. When it was discovered I was a dullahan, he hated me even more.”
I wish I didn’t have to elaborate, but the bargain is there, still pushing.
“My mother kept scheming—of course she did. She had a prince. It didn’t matter whether or not Cedwyn would acknowledge me as such. I looked just like the men of his family, and everyone knew it. But whenever she forced the issue, Cedwyn took it out on me.” I suck in a deep breath, loathing my next admission.
“Winter Court males are pierced just before adulthood as a rite of passage. Traditionally, their father takes them to have it done, and they only receive one or two bars. Cedwyn ordered Ashton to take me. You’ve seen the result. ‘That’s the closest you’ll ever get to a crown,’ he told me.”
And ithurt. It hurt so badly that I dropped all semblance of pride, screamed, and begged them to stop.
“Cedwyn knew what he was doing, ensuring I wouldn’t even be able to take a piss without remembering the consequences of playing Hawkith’s games. And when the nobles threw me into a whorehouse with a bag full of gold to celebrate my maturity, I didn’t let any of the females touch me. I just couldn’t, for almost a decade, until I discovered there were fae out there who would give me the control I needed to navigate those waters.”
Rose is clutching at my coat now, her violet eyes red-rimmed and weeping silent tears. I want to stop, to spare her big heart the next blow.
But the bargain says I’m not done.
“When I was made Lord of the Hunt,” I continue, woodenly. “Cedwyn was beyond furious. I was sixty-three, not old enough or strong enough to stop him taking my head. He locked it in a box in the dungeons and refused to return it. I was stuck in shifted form for fiftyyearsbefore he offered me a quest to reclaim it. Even then, the task was so impossible that it took another hundred and twenty before I won it back.”
And even that was only by sheer luck. He set me the task of bringing back his exiled brother’s hair—a fool’s errand, even when the fool was able to hear and talk. I stumbled across realms for so long, relying only on my ability to see auras to help me find Kieran Froshtyn, and when I did…
Well, it’s a good thing my uncle took pity on me and agreed with his vampire associate’s suggestion to spare my life. He knew who I was—or at least, knew who the last dullahan hadbeen before his banishment—and I managed to convince him to part with his hair. Albeit only after a long and complicated game of charades that would’ve made the redcap howl with laughter.
“Cedwyn was forced to give my head back when I returned,” I finish, sighing. “After that, I fled his court and didn’t return except to do my duty on Samhain. By the time I left, I’d been poisoned, beaten, trained to the point of unconsciousness, and tortured to make sure I wasn’t involved with any of Hawkith’s plans to take the throne. Which brings us to the rules…”
“Rules?” Jaro asks, making a face. “How about we just take a page from the redcap’s book and stab them both, or lock them in their own dungeon? You can pledge the Winter Court’s fealty to Rose, and we’ll march ourselves back to Elfhame.”
That’s the most unseelie thing he’s ever said, and the redcap isn’t even here to congratulate him on it.
I snort. “I’m illegitimate, and my duty is to the Guard first. Even if I wanted anything to do with Calimnel, which I don’t, deposing them would only end up with Ashton taking the throne.” My uncle at the head of the Winter Court would be an unpredictable nightmare. “It would be an even bigger clusterfuck than what happened in Siabetha. No. Leave Hawkith and Cedwyn to jab at one another. It’s practically a hobby for them both at this point. We’re there to collect his vow, nothing more. But we’re going to be stuck in the palace for at least a day while that happens, so you need to know the rules.”
A salty wet scent reaches my nose, and dampness blooms on my shirt, but I choose to ignore it, adjusting my arms tighter and using my magic to evaporate the moisture.
“Firstly, one of us tastes everything Rose is offered.Everything.”
Hawkith’s propensity for potions is well known at this point. She has a maid with the magic of brewing under her thumb, and I wouldn’t put it past her to poison the Nicnevin whenit becomes clear Rose is staying well clear of her political machinations. The leaves falling through the air above us catch fire, burning to ashes before they can hit the ground, and my jaw tightens anew at the loss of control.
