Page 159 of Beneath a Shattered Sky
“Not interested.” Lore’s hat turns into a spiky mass that resembles a scarlet hedgehog. “I don’t want anything to do with the toxic cunt that spawned this grumpy asshole.”
All the training in the realm couldn’t stop my eyebrows from rising into my hairline at that pronouncement.
I know she’s offered herself to others to get Cedwyn killed, but did my mother really offer to sleep withLorcan, of all people?
Thank the Goddess he had the sense to turn her down. It was probably way before Rose was born, but still… Even the mere idea makes me nauseous.
“Besides,” Lore continues, blithely. “It’s not like Cedwyn’s the only royal who needs murdering. I’m going to earn the title ‘king killer’ by collecting Eero’s head, and then maybe Rose will let me?—”
Jaromir elbows the redcap in the gut before he can complete the sentence. Lore bends double, gasping for breath, and I send up a silent prayer that’s equal parts gratitude and a plea for patience. I don’t need a visual of Lore’s murderous fantasies on top of everything else.
“Dinner,” Hawkith repeats, her eyes hard and disapproving as she looks over the two of them. “I’ll see you both then. Leave the Fomorians and these two behind. They’re hardly fit for polite company.”
Her tone is final, and resignation hits me as I realise there’s no escaping this. She wants my mate in her clutches, which means I’m going to have to find a way to keep Rose safe from my own mother.
Forty-Seven
Rhoswyn
Kitarni regales me with tales from her travels on the way to the temple, pausing only to allow me to bless the shrine. Bree follows silently behind us as we walk aimlessly through the ice-bound halls, exchanging news and catching up.
To get here so fast, she hired the services of a fae with the gift of blinking to take her as far as the Findwellyn. After that, she had to bargain with the kelpies to reach Winter’s Fork, and she’s been a day’s ride behind us the entire time, following the trail of pilgrims to Calimnel.
But all her tales can’t distract me from the thoughts running in circles in my head. Thoughts that only grow louder when we leave the temple, and there’s nothing to distract me.
Bram’s been here all along. Following us ever since Siabetha. He just doesn’t want to talk to me. I thought he was just checking in on us occasionally, but to hear that he’s been practically glued to my side and yet choosing not to be seen? That cuts. Drystan seems to think it’s because of my mortal sensibilities, but I doubtthat’s the reason. Bram knows I’m comfortable with the dead. He also knows that I’ve been practising my powers.
Is it resentment? He died for me. Dived in front of that blade, forme. He never got to see the rest of his brothers, never found a mate, or really got to enjoy his freedom after leaving Fellgotha. All because of this stupid pilgrimage and these ridiculous royals…
“You’re in a bad mood,” Kitarni observes.
I look up, then wince as I realise I’ve been stomping down the corridor.
“Sorry.” My anger flees. “I don’t know what came over me.”
“Grief, silence, and rage are the bedfellows love leaves behind,” Kitarni recites. “You’ve been so focused on the pilgrimage. Now that it’s over…”
“I already grieved.” My words are curt, but I hate the reminder of how I fell apart in Bree’s arms.
The dryad pins me with a look. Sometimes, I forget just how long she’s lived—she’s my friend, and the age-gap seems insignificant—but that gentle, knowing expression speaks of centuries of wisdom and painfully hard-earned truth.
“Grief is not something one does and then continues as they were before,” the high priestess reminds me. “It’s something you carry with you forever, and you learn to live with.”
“I know that!” I swallow and tuck a stray strand of my hair behind my ear as I collect myself. “I just… don’t understand why he wouldn’t show himself to me. He’s travelled with us all this time. It didn’t need to be goodbye.”
“But it did, and I suspect he remained out of sight for the same reason you didn’t summon him.” Kitarni bumps her shoulder into mine affectionately. “Both of you understand that he has passed on, and pretending otherwise is the way to madness. It’s healthy that you respect death as final, rather than seeing your power as a way to spare you the pain of loss.”
My mind drifts back to Cressida’s mother’s journals. To the way she clung to those she lost, coexisting with them as if they were still alive. The guilt of denying them rest in the Otherworld ate her alive, but the sorrow of parting was too much for her to bear.
No. I don’t want to be like that.
“The pathway between life and death is a difficult one to navigate, but Danu knew you were capable of it.” Kitarni sighs. “I don’t think anyone would fault you if you summoned him to say goodbye and asked him your questions before he left. I believe it would bring you, and those he knew, some peace.”
She’s right. Shame coats my throat as I realise it’s not just me who should get to say goodbye. Our brothers would appreciate the chance. Without meaning to, my mind drifts back to Caed, and the memory sphere he gifted me. He saw Bram as an older brother.
He’d probably like to say goodbye, too.
“When the war is over,” I decide. “Before Samhain.”
