Page 45 of Beneath a Shattered Sky
“Never,” Drystan pants, hair wild and tone hard. “Ever sneak out of camp like that again. Do you even know what I—? You could’ve been on your way to Fellgotha for all I knew.”
“Was that…?” Bree asks, landing close to us.
“The white hart,” Drystan confirms. “I wondered why you were so difficult to wake, and the others didn’t stir.” Amber eyes full of flames scan me. “What did he say to you, huntress?”
“That’s between her and the hart,” Bree interjects. “We weren’t given an audience.”
“Well, he’ll keep Wraith busy, at least,” the dullahan mutters, and I startle.
That explains the barking, but… “Wraith won’t hurt him, will he?”
“No. I doubt even a barghest could catch the hart,” Bree reassures me.
Drystan looks at the bush the stag disappeared behind with an odd sense of longing on his face until I snuggle into his hold. That freezes him, and I chuckle softly to myself. My winter lord still doesn’t know how to respond to a cuddle.
“Let’s go back to the others,” I say quietly. “I have… lots to think on.”
The white hart confirmed what I’d been saying to them, but he didn’t tell me how to fix it. Honestly, a step-by-step guide to dealing with immortal egos and overprotective males would’ve gone a lot further than a couple of mystic comments about unity and nourishing.
Bree comes up behind me and presses a kiss to my temple. “Whatever’s putting that look on your face, it will work out. Look at all you’ve faced so far.”
I snort but work hard to soften the crease between my brows. Something tells me that falling from the throne room in Siabetha will seem easy compared to getting Caed and the rest of my Guard on speaking terms.
Fourteen
Rhoswyn
The Apporas is a quiet river, I think to myself as we pause atop its southern bank two days after the decision to cut short the pilgrimage. The near-black water twinkles under the setting sun, splitting the forest in half. On one side, lush green summer and on the other, the flame-bright colours of autumn. It’s serene yet chilling.
Lore sighs. “I suppose you want me to blink you across.”
“That was the plan,” Drystan replies dryly. “Unless you’re planning to make Rose swim.”
The redcap sighs from atop Wraith’s back as the barghest paces the waterline.
“Why can’t I just build her a bridge from the bones of her enemies instead?”
Caed snorts, the first sound I’ve heard from him in days. “Do you need any help with that? It sounds more fun than trekking through fairy land in silence. Ouch!”
“We agreed you weren’t going to provoke them,” Prae growls.
“Provoke them? I’m not the one religiously coating myself in her dust to make a point,” Caed retorts.
I whirl, pinning the rest of my Guard with a look. All of them wear some degree of shimmer, even Bree, who steals kisses when I least expect it. They’ve all been affectionate since we were reunited, and I foolishly thought it was just relief that we were all together again.
I didn’t realise they were using it as a pissing match.
“Tell me that’s not what that was,” I demand.
Jaro has the good sense to look guilty, Drystan just hardens his jaw, and Bree and Lore just shrug.
“Instincts,” Bree mutters, like that excuses it.
“At least it’s not fighting,” Titania chimes in weakly, popping up beside me.
My guides have been—in their own words—giving me spacefor the past two days. Aside from Maeve turning up to train me each morning, they’ve been leaving us alone in the hopes we’ll mend some bridges.
Which is what the white hart said we should do.
