Page 160 of Beneath a Shattered Sky
With all of Diana’s sons descending on Elfhame City, that seems like as good a time as any. Personally, I can’t wait to leave the glacial perfection of Calimnel behind and get on with the business of saving Elfhame. I’m scared of battle, of course, but the minor royals have done almost as thorough a job of trying to kill me and my Guard as Elatha has.
I wish I could say it’s made me stronger, but it hasn’t.
I’m not brave. I’m numb. But perhaps the two are one and the same when viewed through the right lens.
“Indeed,” Kitarni agrees, frowning. “Don’t look now, but I believe we’re about to be ambushed by a Froshtyn.”
My spine stiffens a second before a familiar voice calls out. “Nicnevin, a moment?”
Ashton.
It didn’t take him long to act on his brother’s orders. It’s barely noon.
“Maeve,” I call. “Mab. Titania.”
My grandmothers appear around us as I turn, looking past Bree, to the male approaching us.
Ashton isn’t running, but there’s definitely a hastiness to his step as he strides down the corridor towards us. The erratic darting of his gaze is the only outward sign that he’s different from the rest of the fae we’ve passed. He looks at me like I’m salvation and doom all rolled into one, and it makes me uncomfortable.
“Careful,” Maeve warns. “You can’t trust a word said by one who’s given their name away.”
I expect Titania to shake her head or scold Maeve for her lack of compassion, but she merely nods sagely. “Agreed.”
Pity tugs at my chest, regardless. This male has been bound in servitude to a tormented king for centuries. Given what I saw last night, I can’t help but feel begrudgingly sympathetic.
My logical brain knows that he may just as easily turned out as bad as the rest of them, even with his name intact. So I make sure none of my pity is visible on my face as he reaches us.
“Prince Ashton, save your breath. I have no intention of interfering with the affairs of the Winter Court.”
Given how they seem to deal with grudges, it would be suicidal to try.
He doesn’t falter, a smile as fake as Cedwyn’s obeisance fixed firmly on his face.
“Perhaps I simply wish to keep you company,” he says. “It’s criminal to leave two of the most charming females in the citadel to wander alone.” He offers Kitarni a slight bow, and she inclines her head to the side, accepting the flattery as if it’s a true compliment.
Bree shifts closer, his presence as reassuring as my guides’ on either side of me.
“Don’t give away what you know,” Maeve coaches. “You have the upper hand as long as you hold more information. And don’t be afraid to stab him for his impertinence. Unseelie respect that kind of thing.”
How exactly am I supposed to do that when I don’t even have a weapon on me?
“May I ask where you’re headed?” Ashton asks, falling easily into step with us, completely oblivious to how he’s practically inside of Mab.
It’s irrational to get irritated at him for it. The Froshtyns don’t have the sight. That’s an Iceblyd gift. Still, it seems rude.
“The dungeons,” I answer instinctively.
I have business with Torrance Lyarthorn, and he’s too dangerous to be allowed to languish, even under guard. For our safety, and Bree’s sanity, he must be dealt with.
“Ah, you want to interrogate the bard,” Ashton guesses. “I’ll gladly offer my assistance. They are insufferable, don’t you think? All those whispers they keep hearing with their too-big ears. If they weren’t so useful, I think we would’ve had them all executed.”
Ignoring his less-than-subtle remarks, I look over my shoulder, letting Bree know with my gaze that he doesn’t have to be with me when I do this. My púca stares resolutely ahead, refusing to meet my eyes or take the out I’m offering.
“I will protect you,” he promises, quietly. “I am well used to his tricks.”
Ashton stretches, the move deliberately putting him within reaching distance of me. His arm comes down, curling as if to wrap around my shoulders in a half-embrace?—
My púca is there before I can react, tugging me away and pressing an inky blade to the crease of Ashton’s armpit, exactly where my body would’ve been had the prince succeeded.
