Page 70 of Beneath a Shattered Sky
All three of us are openly staring at him in confusion now. Mutiny?
Jaro is the one who finally asks in a resigned tone: “What mutiny?”
Lore grins, fangs glinting in the dawn light. “A bloody one. Want to see their heads, pet? I arranged them perfectly on my doorstep. It’s really quite artful, though they might be a little rotten by now.”
He frowns, as if the decomposition of dead bodies is some irksome problem he can’t shake, then shrugs. “Anyway, I’m fed up with people management. Cressidick wants my toy soldiers? She can order them herself.” He blows a raspberry at the ceiling, and my fists tighten as I realise that’s the direction of the autumn queen’s room. A room he probably knows too much about.
Cutting off that jealous thought before it can develop, I force myself to focus on Jaro and Caed and summon a little of Danu’s power.
“Please feel free to fight one another whenever you wish,” I say carefully, tugging at the magic inside me.
Undoing my charm is more difficult than using it in the first place. Not least of which because I don’t want to accidentally undo the one stopping Drystan from dismembering Caed, or the one holding Jaro’s wolf back from trying to complete my mating bond. It feels like surgically slicing away sticky cobwebs of power with my mind.
“Did it work?” Lore asks.
Jaro turns and decks Caed. “Yup.”
At my exasperated look, he winces. “I was just testing it! Anyway, Caed has something else to ask.”
The Fomorian rotates his jaw, nostrils flaring as he works on containing the understandable urge to retaliate. The tips of his double-pointed ears turn a deep navy, and I frown.
“Apparently, there’s a lantern festival next week.” Turquoise eyes are fixed on my face, studying me intently for my reaction. “Jaromir suggested you might want to go.”
“With you?” I check.
“That was the idea…”
Is this… a date? I pin the wolf shifter with an exasperated look. “I told you I didn’t want what I said to influence?—”
“I will always do whatever I can to make you happy, Rosie.” He cuts my words off. “Always. You’re my mate.”
Those last three words hold an intimate gravitas that trembles between us like a live thing, and my throat thickens in response.
He’s always so good, loyal, even when I don’t deserve it. I can’t even begin to comprehend how he can just look beyond his hatred of Caed, especially given that it was Fomorians who killed his father. But he’s trying. For me.
I love him. I don’t know when or how it happened, but the realisation steals my breath. All four of my fae Guards now hold irrevocable pieces of my heart and aside from Lore, I’ve done a shit job of telling them how I feel.
I find myself longing for the mating bonds, wishing I had a way to just… show them. I’d take that final, permanent step in a heartbeat. The only thing holding me back is the uncertainty surrounding the blue male in front of me.
The white hart’s advice rings in my ears as I turn back to Caed. “Promise not to take me to a drinking hall this time?”
My light teasing tone draws a tiny glint to his eye, and his stiff posture relaxes incrementally. “I can’t help it if you’re a dumb fairy who’s unable to appreciate Fomorian culture.”
There’s no sting in the words, for all that they make Jaro bristle, and I find myself smiling.
“Then I accept. But now I really do need to leave, before Cressida decides I’m not giving this my all.”
My wings flick on my back, eager—or nervous, I can’t tell which—at the thought of trying to fly again. I flick my eyes between the three of them, wondering which one has been assigned to me today.
“Take Prae with you,” Caed suggests. “She’s bored, and it looks like I’ve won myself two sparring partners for the day.”
“Hooray for male bonding!” Lore cries.
Smirking, because the alternative is dwelling on how many injuries the three of them will earn over the next few hours, I nod and head for the door, only to find his cousin already there, fist poised to knock.
Today, her eyes are masked by a thick band of that dark blue war paint that stretches from her brows to halfway down her nose. She’s given up her fae clothes in favour of an asymmetrical cut out dress in the deep purple of the Nicnevin, with a pin in the shape of my symbol holding together the single strap over her left shoulder. It’s still fae-made, but there are undeniable similarities to the clothes she wore in Fellgotha, and I’m glad for the return to her old style.
Pretending to be fae didn’t suit her at all.
