Page 165 of Beneath a Shattered Sky
I doubt Rose agrees with her, and when our Nicnevin stands, her Guard shift closer.
“Enough,” she snaps. “What's done, is done. I want solutions, not squabbling.”
Both of them look at her with too little reverence for my taste. Evidently Wraith agrees, because he flashes his fangs.
“We have no idea how much his animal may have overheard while he was here,” Rose adds. “We’ll need to revise the war plans to account for that.”
That’s the part that scares me the most. Not only is my father out there again; he’s working for the enemy. Worse, I should’ve noticed that the rat was missing, or that his cuffs were fake. Iknowhim. I know his tricks and how slippery he can be. Instead, I was too focused on Rose and the threat Ashton posed to notice Torrance escaping right under my nose until it was too late.
I barely managed to stop him from charming Rose.
He’s my burden to bear. He always has been. Some parents are there for their children, showering them with unconditional love. I’ve always known he wasn’t like that.
Even knowing how toxic he was, I still did everything to please him. I made excuses. Paid his debts and protected him. It wasn’t his fault; he was just with the wrong people. He was just addicted.
And the cost of that child-like willingness to forgive a parent for anything was centuries of imprisonment, and now it endangers my mate’s safety as well.
“A full scouting party has been sent to scour the mountains,” Cedwyn’s general pipes up when it becomes clear his king isn’t going to respond. “But with the storm rolling in and the amountof planning which clearly went into this, I doubt we’ll find anything.” Rose’s noise of frustration cuts me to the bone, and he hastens to continue. “The citadel watch is on high alert, just in case he hasn’t left.”
“If he’s found, kill him on sight.” I almost don’t realise I’ve spoken until everyone turns to look at me.
Rose’s violet eyes darken with sympathy until they’re a deep midnight purple, and her fear evaporates completely, giving me the boldness to continue.
“He’s a threat to the Nicnevin, and he’s already proven he’ll escape, given the chance. Death is the only option.”
Drystan is already nodding. “As much as I want him tried and executed publicly, I agree. It’s too risky. Set Lore on him. At least the redcap will make it hurt.”
My breath catches, the wounded child in me crying silently at the knowledge that it’s come to this. Approving my father’s death, knowing it will be painful.
Rose rounds on the dullahan, levelling him with a glare, but Hawkith is already there, interrupting.
“Excellent. Well, now that that’s settled, perhaps we can all retire for dinner. Nicnevin, has my son told you that I’ve arranged for us to share a meal? It’s not every day a female gains a daughter-by-mating, after all.”
The troll—the sole remaining survivor among the dead—dares to look up hopefully.
That’s his mistake. The movement draws Cedwyn’s attention, and the King’s frost-touched quicksilver blade takes his head. It rolls along the floor until it hits the foot of the dais, and Rose’s fear spikes until it takes my breath away.
Standing quickly, she heads straight for the toxic woman. “Yes, shall we go?”
Hawkith wastes no time linking her arm with the Nicnevin’s in a calculated display of unity that doesn’t go unnoticed byCedwyn. The winter king catches Rose as she passes, leaning in to whisper something into her ear before Hawkith harshly yanks my mate away.
Wraith snarls again, and Rose looks back, giving us all a reassuring look, but I can’t take any comfort from it. Her fear might be lessened now that the executions are over, but in her haste to escape, I fear she’s put herself at the mercy of a fae who’s sizing her up like prey.
Hawkith’s roomsare darker than most in Calimnel. Cedwyn seems to have hidden his unwanted mate down in the bowels of the citadel, where the rooms are partly hewn from the rock of the mountain. There are fewer furs and less ice. It makes sense, given her fire magic, but as a result, the space has the atmosphere of a smoky dungeon.
I take the spot beside Rose at the large round table, ready to subtly resume tasting her food as soon as it’s served. So far, no one seems to have noticed the sips of drinks and tiny stolen bites of food Jaro and I have taken. I’m not sure the deception will hold up in a more intimate setting, but Drystan’s warnings about poison and the box full of nathairs in the closet weigh heavy on my mind.
Unseelie have no problem with underhanded trickery, and if Rose dies right now, she’ll land in the middle of Fomorian-occupied-Elfhame.
And Caed will die.
Not that I care much for the Fomorian, but she does. It’s written in every longing glance she sends his way when she thinks we aren’t looking. In quiet moments, watching them, I’vebegun to wonder if the reason he hasn’t earned my trust yet is because he hasn’t had the opportunity to.
If we left him alone with her, would he prove himself? I fear there’s only one way to find out. Yet still, I hesitate.
One of Hawkith’s servants shuts the door in the Fomorian’s face, and rather than objecting as perhaps I should, I turn my attention back to the deadly game before me.
Hawkith takes the seat directly across from Rose, leaving the others to fill in the gaps between us. I’m grateful when Drystan takes her other side, providing a buffer between our mate and his awful mother.
