Page 17 of Beneath a Shattered Sky
Her rage was there, but the decision—the deathblow—was all me.
“Shake it off, kid.” Maeve’s hand hasn’t left mine. Even now, her strength flows through me. “This isn’t the time or place for an identity crisis.”
I know. But I won’t forget the glassy stare of the dead fae on the floor and the wet sticky feeling of his blood coating me any time soon. Beside him, his companion is still gurgling.
“You used your magic,” I notice, glaring at Caed accusingly.
“It seems I can only call one.” Caed shrugs as he sinks his sword into the chest of the fae, putting him out of his misery. “And only when I’m protecting you. Every other time I’ve tried, it fails, and believe me, I’ve tried. Now, are we saving Bree or not?”
“Máel is in there,” Maeve warns me. “She’s a formidable opponent.”
“So are we,” I reply. “But we’re not going to kill her.”
“We’re not?” Caed asks incredulously.
“You can restrain her, but her death belongs to Bree.”
As much as both Danu and I crave to dispense justice, it’s only right that Bree chooses.
He opens his mouth, then sees I’m serious and closes it again, jaw clenching. “Fine.”
Without waiting to ask if I’m ready, he creaks open the door.
“I’ll go first.” His tone may be quiet, but it brokers no argument. “Stay back until she’s under control.”
I nod, waiting for him to disappear inside, before following. Máel’s rooms are as immaculate as they are luxurious. Siabethan nightshade grows around the edges of the ceiling, the blooms drooping down onto the lush furniture.
I really, really hate that plant. It’s irrational, but it’s a symbol of this toxic court.
The space is lit by crackling braziers, their flames casting menacing shadows across the room.
Máel isn’t in the living area, and I follow Caed towards the open bedroom door.
There’s no sound coming from within, and that sets my teeth on edge as we creep closer. Every breath I take seems too loud, my heartbeat thunders, and beneath it all is this terrifying undercurrent of dread that makes my ribcage feel too tight.
Bree was barely starting to heal from what he went through at the Toxic Orchid before this. Who knows how much damage this will do to his recovery?
I wrap a glamour around us as we slip inside, but it’s not necessary. Máel is standing before a large window overlooking the starlit sea with her back to us, wearing a deep navy robe. She cradles a glass of wine in one hand, the firelight glimmering off it as she shifts her weight slightly from foot to foot, lost in thought. Caed moves past the bed, ignoring everything else in favour of facing the threat.
But the moment my eyes fall to the covers, my heart stops.
Bree is naked and splayed out across the mattress, a bloodied blanket carelessly tossed over his lower half. I force myself not to look too deeply at the bruising and burns across his body and focus on the thick iron collar around his neck instead. Mercifully, Máel has left the key on the table by the door, and I snatch it up in the folds of my skirt, ignoring the way my skin warms through the fabric.
“What are you—?” Máel’s outraged demand cuts off as Caed catches her in a chokehold. His muscles bunch tightly around her throat, not letting go, even when blinding blasts of light start to explode around him like stars.
Closing my eyes against the painful bursts, I leave Caed to deal with the struggling princess, and feel my way across the bed to the collar.
The key slides in easily, and as soon as it’s off, I carefully drag it away from him using a thick, bloodied quilt to protect my skin.
The starbursts have stopped, but Bree’s still not moving.
“Come on, Bree,” I whisper, taking hold of his shoulders and pulling him towards me as I blink away the residual blindness caused by the princess’s magic and cradle his head in my lap. His ears are missing, I realise, as my fingers catch in the sticky red mess where they should be.
She’s cut his ears off.
There are slimy pieces of skin on the bed around him, too. His tattoos. Burning him and beating him wasn’t enough; she cut pieces of him away as well.
With shaking hands, I reach for his arm, unbuckling the leather restraint. Once his limbs are free, I pull his hand towards me. His mark is one of the only unblemished tattoos remaining, his fingers clenched protectively around the rose and skull.
