Page 51 of Beneath a Shattered Sky
Doing what I wish I had the courage and skill to do.
“Cress,” Maeve mutters. “Still a lazy fighter, as always.”
The female in question struts forward. Two of the knights beside her are beheading the shrivelled Fomorians around them with quick slashes of their swords, batting away those who still have the strength to try to attack their queen.
It’s barely even a fight at that point, more of an execution.
Between those two, directly behind Queen Cressida, is a lone archer, quickly and efficiently removing anyone who would think of hurting her from a distance.
A Fomorian in full plate steps out from between the trees that ring the village, brandishing a greatsword that’s taller than I am. The iron covering every inch of his massive form protects him from the withering magic, but Cressida doesn’t falter.
She waits for him to make his swing, dodges at the very last second, then stabs her blade through the gap beneath his arm with a swift punching motion, withdrawing it in a spray of blood that covers her. The shock of her strike is enough that her attacker overbalances, leaving one of her knights to collect his head.
The archer kicks the male’s skull away like a football, and my gut churns.
Then all four of them take to the sky, leaping into the air with an ease I can’t help but envy. Cressida’s wings are the bright orange of a monarch butterfly, but her companions are an identical soft umber brown.
As the quad draws closer, I almost expect to begin withering myself, but the only two who collapse to the ground, clutching their heads, are Caed and Prae.
Frowning, I step between them and the approaching fae. “They’re part of my court. Leave them be.”
The queen’s armoured head tilts to one side as she lands on the wooden walkway a few paces away, and I see her cold copper eyes narrow behind the guard of her helmet. It makes the hair on the back of my neck rise in warning, and I reach for Danu as the rest of my Guard tenses.
Something tells me this queen will attack me outright rather than play the subtle games that the other royals have forced me to endure. Before, I would’ve said that was a relief, but now that I’ve seen how formidable she is, I’m not so sure.
No one is more shocked than I am when she holds a hand up in a clear signal to stop and the Fomorians recover. Before I can try to figure out which of her knights was using magic against them, the queen drops to one knee, plunging her blade into the wood below her.
“I swear my fealty to Nicnevin Rhoswyn,” she begins, and I blink furiously at the unexpected words. “Never will my deeds bring harm to her, nor shall I hear of harm to her, unless it is to obstruct it. I accept her as my Nicnevin, on the condition that she rules my subjects with the Goddess’s fairness, and that she will perform all duties as they are written in the Treaty of Marlen. May Danu witness my vow and strike me down if I recant.”
“Accepted,” I stammer.
She stands as soon as she’s done, one of her legs jerking before she thumps her fist at the joint in her armour with a curse.
“Fucking brace,” she mutters, as sparks fly from the hinge before looking me in the eye. “This is your problem now, Nicnevin.” She waves a hand at the still raging battle below us. “Deal with it.”
Without another word, she strides away.
“Make me solid,” Maeve demands, uncaring of my stupefied state.
Because I’m still holding tight to the connection to Danu, I do as she asks.
No one is more surprised than me when my grandmother stalks up behind the queen and jumps on her back, wrapping her legs around Cressida’s waist.
“Gotcha!” she crows, holding a ghostly blade to the autumn queen’s neck. “Why are you giving my granddaughter such a hard time, Cress? I thought you’d at least have the decency to ask how I was.”
Seeing the two of them fight in such close quarters makes me worry that they might tumble over the edge of the bridges. Everyone has frozen, everyone except Cressida, who squats and grabs the back of Maeve’s tunic, flipping the dead Nicnevin over her head with practised ease.
“I havenotmissed that,” she grumbles. “Fuck’s sake, Maeve, I’m covered in blood and tired as shit. Can you save beating me up until I’ve at least had two hours’ sleep?”
Maeve gets to her feet and mock punches the queen’s arm. “You missed me. Admit it, bitch.”
“What’s going on?” I ask, and Titania appears beside me with a small smile.
“Cressida was one of Maeve’s handmaidens before she took her own crown. Cressida’s grandfather, the first king of the Autumn Court, hoped that by encouraging their friendship, he’d be able to use her to manipulate the Nicnevin.” She sighs. “Unfortunately for him, Maeve was perhaps the least influenceable queen in history, and Cressida is a close second.”
The two of them are tussling now, uncaring of the drop just inches away. Maeve isn’t drawing on me to use her powers, and neither is Cressida. They look and act so much like siblings that I wonder why Maeve didn’t say anything before.
“How in Danu’s name are you still alive, you decrepit old bat?” Maeve demands, rolling her over until her head is hanging over the drop. “I’ve been dead, what? Four thousand years?”
