Page 123 of Beneath a Shattered Sky
The Lord of the Wild Hunt stares back at me, waiting for me to say something, but there are no words that can describe how I’m feeling right now. Am I grateful for his protectiveness? Yes. But I’m also battling a heap of self-loathing and disgust at my own actions.
And thrown into my toxic emotional cocktail is grief for Bram all over again, and disappointment that killing one of the fae responsible for his death didn’t bring any of the closure I’d hoped for.
“I think I need to rest,” I murmur, waving at the corpse. “I’m sorry to ask, but…”
The body vanishes in a plume of fire, becoming ash in seconds.
“You never need to think of him again,” Bree whispers.
Pretty words. I wish I could believe them. Unfortunately, I’m fairly certain my actions just granted Mervyn’s malignant glare an eternal place in my memories and my nightmares.
Thirty-Seven
Rhoswyn
I’m still thinking about Mervyn’s words the next morning as Drystan fusses with the fastenings of the heavy fur coat I’ve been forced into. Blizzard is beside us, and everyone else has mounted up, but my dullahan just won’t stop lecturing me on snow safety.
“Rhoswyn, you’re not listening to me.”
He’s right, and the knowledge colours my cheeks until he sighs.
“Your necklace will protect you from the worst of the cold, at least enough that you shouldn’t get frostbite, but without the rest of the set…”
“There’s a set?” I ask curiously.
“A very fancy one.” Lore pops into existence beside us with a grin. “A family heirloom of Froshtyn House from the founding of Calimnel, recently—well, recently by fae reckoning—split between three very angry brothers. All together, the set protects one from getting chilly.”
He’s talking about Cedwyn and his brothers, I realise. “I’m wearing Cedwyn’s mother’s jewellery?” I squeak. “Won’t that upset him?”
“The necklace wasn’t his to give,” Drystan replies curtly. “Ashton gave it to me when I was exiled. Cedwyn has the earrings, and Kieran took the anklet with him when he left the realm.”
So the male who cut off his hand also gave him a priceless family heirloom? My confusion must show on my face, because Drystan sighs impatiently.
“Ashton gave Cedwyn his true name as a child. A lot of his actions… aren’t his own. Those that are often make no sense. He’s the mad dog of the Winter Court. He was just as likely to give me the gems as he was to strangle me with them.”
That’s horrible. Cedwyn tricked a child into giving up his name?
“Ashton spent half of my childhood jumping out from behind every corner with his sword out, ready to murder me if I wasn’t fast enough to defend myself, and the other half ignoring my existence or doling out Cedwyn’s discipline.”
“And he could be your father?” I ask.
Drystan hesitates. “I suppose so. Though Hawkith was always insistent that I refer to him as an uncle.”
Because it fit his mother’s agenda for Drystan to view Cedwyn as his father. Yet, handing down a family heirloom and training a child to fight? Those seem like awfully paternal actions to me.
Drystan blows out another breath. “Anyway, as I was saying, keep your jacket buttoned at all times. Don’t rely on my magic to keep you warm. We could get separated, or I could be injured. There are all manner of predators who might take issue with us and attack, distracting me. Your clothes are your lifeline in the mountains.”
“When we finally get to the fucking mountains,” Caed grumbles, notably bereft of the heavy furs everyone else is draped in. “Your route has us going south for thirty leagues before we even start to scale the things. And let’s not forget the snow doubles—sometimes triples—the time it takes to get anywhere. We’ll be ten years older and the war will have been lost by the time we reach the city.”
“Calimnel can only be reached via a trail that begins at Winter’s Fork,” Jaro says, riding up beside us. “It’s one of the most beautiful trails in all of Faerie. Rose will love it.”
“Oh, you mean the six-foot-high snowdrifts, deadly wildlife, and sheer cliffs of doom are supposed to be beautiful?” Caed rolls his eyes. “No, thanks. Tried invading that court and gave up for a reason.”
“I still think we could’ve managed it,” Prae protests, her tone coloured with the exasperation of an old argument. “I had this design for metal carriages with these hooks that would be able to?—”
“We didn’t have the time or the resources to invent that. Letting them starve to death was a better?—”
“If you two have finished talking about all the ways you planned to invade my court, we need to get going.” Drystan is less than impressed as he finally lifts me into his saddle.
