Page 32 of Beneath a Shattered Sky
“Sir Jaromir.” Two can play this game. “You don’t have to talk to me about whatever is bothering you if you don’t want to, but there will be no more fighting in my Guard. Do I make myself clear?”
“Crystal,” he grunts out.
Spinning on my heel, I head blindly for the other side of the fire and the log there. It doesn’t feel like I’ve put enough space between us, but I meant it when I said I was hungry. I’vebeen through a lot, and my stomach hasn’t exactly been at the forefront of my concerns until now.
Whatever spell kept everyone from moving while I spoke is broken the second I sit down on the torn up grass and help myself to a skewered fish that survived the ruckus. Lore blinks to my side, plopping his hat onto my wet hair before he tugs me into his lap and snuggles me.
“Pretty pet,” he croons. “Cages are no fun without you. Did any of these idiots congratulate you for flying yet?” His eyes fix on the necklace at my throat. “Oooh, where did you get the shiny? It looks awfully like part of a famous set?—”
“I gave it to her.” Drystan’s voice is dark. “Stop trying to rile me, redcap. Did you not hear our mate ask us to stop fighting?”
Lore’s red eyes narrow, but his lips tilt up in a grin. His silence is almost more terrifying than if he had leapt to his feet and gone for the kill.
“Eat,” Bree prompts, crouching beside us. “After that, we’ll rest. In the morning, we’ll come up with a plan.”
“I have a plan,” I say. “We’re going to finish this pilgrimage, then we’re going to free Elfhame. Once all of that is done, we’ll deal with Eero.”
“The Summer Court being in league with the Fomorians changes things,” Drystan argues. “They could join forces. It’s too risky to leave Eero to his own devices.”
They’ve been talking, I realise. Caed must’ve filled them in on Eero’s plans while I was bathing.
“What else can we do, right now, to solve that?” I ask, honestly. “The Autumn Court is battling the invasion, the Spring Court has sent their best knights to Elfhame, the Winter Court is too far away, and Eero is apparently invulnerable. We were lucky enough to get in and out of Siabetha to rescue you. They’ll have doubled the guard by now, so if you have a plan, please tell me now, because I am out of ideas.”
His head drops. “The redcap is the assassin?—”
“I will not watch Eero snap his neck again,” I hiss, my fingers fisting in Lore’s shirt.
“Aww,” Lore groans. “Did you have to tell them about that part?”
“There’s a chance Cressida might refuse to swear her vow because of this.” Drystan sits opposite the fire. “It makes no sense for her to allow herself to be drawn into civil war on top of the one she’s already fighting.”
“Then I’ll make her swear it.” I’m done playing nice. “I don’t care if I have to charm her and Cedwyn. I’ve had enough. Pandering to the minor royals is what led to this.” I pause, my eyes straying back to Jaro’s back before I snap them to the fire. “I’m happy for you to choose the safest route to the Autumn Court, and I’m not some dictator who won’t listen to your suggestions, but my gut says this is the right thing to do.”
Drystan jerks his head down once, acknowledging what I’ve said, and doesn’t argue any more.
I finish my food, then snuggle deeper into Lore’s lap. I could find my bedroll, but I don’t want to be alone just yet. The redcap is tracing spiral designs across my shoulder with his thumb as he holds me close and finishes his own meal, and I listen to the quiet conversation of the others.
After a while, Bree takes out the flute he was granted and starts to fiddle with it, playing a few notes here and there, learning the instrument. The tone it makes is haunting, ethereal in a way that makes me shiver.
Perhaps it’s a reflection of my current mood, but it almost sounds mournful.
“Bree,” Drystan snaps, cutting my thoughts short. “We need an eye on the Fomorians.”
I hadn’t even noticed that Prae and Caed had left, but Bree obliges. His valravn bursts free with a soft caw, erupting into the skies and leaving a trail of ink behind.
“And what were you thinking?” Drystan hisses, this time directing his comment at Lore. “Forgiving him? When did that happen?”
His voice is soft, despite the anger in his words, and I wonder if he thinks I’m asleep.
Lore shrugs around me. “I can still stab him whenever I feel like it.”
“You’ve given him hope.” Drystan sounds like he’s getting farther away. “You’re going to give Rose the wrong idea?—”
“What idea is that, dullahan?” Lore drawls. “The idea that him coming to save her—and rescue our cute wickle bottoms—when we needed it most, might mean something?”
“You’d trust him with her? To be good to her?”
“No, but Lore’s right,” Bree mutters, interrupting before Lore can say anything. “Caed just had the perfect opportunity to take Rose and hand her over to his father. He didn’t take it.”
