Page 73 of Beneath a Shattered Sky
“But youarein the court of her Nicnevin,” I press. “What harm would there be in trusting her a little more?”
Prae mumbles something that sounds a lot like, “My knife through his heart would sort this out.”
Making a snap decision, I turn to face the scarred prince. “This is Princess Praedra.” She shoots me a look full of betrayal, but I keep going. “She’s my friend and has saved my life more than once. If you hurt her, I’ll help her gut you.”
“Ten days.” Gryffin takes a step forward, hazel eyes alight with the reflection of flames from the fireplace beside him. “Give me that long to court you. My aunt holds my knight’s oath. She can prevent me from using my powers for that long while you decide whether you want to try to kill me.”
“I’ve already decided,” the Fomorian retorts. “And why can’t she just keep you from using them forever? Problem solved.”
“Because, like it or not, we need powerful fae to win this war,” Cressida snaps her fingers. “Despite his inability to follow orders, my nephew is one of the most powerful warriors in this court. His magic is equal to my own.”
Prae eyes him up and down with perspicacious eyes. “Can you fuck?”
Scarlet stains my cheeks. “Prae!”
“What? It has been the longest dry spell in the history of forever.” She shrugs. “Just because you have five males waiting to deliver orgasms?—”
“I fuck,” Gryffin interrupts, grinning. “It’s one of my many talents.”
Prae looks him up and down, one brow lifting when her good eye lands below his waistline. “Seven days. If you turn out not to be entirely useless by the Lantern Festival, I mightconsiderkeeping your pasty ass.”
“The bargain is struck,” Gryffin’s lips quirk.
“Now that’s settled, remember I called you here for a reason.” Cressida’s voice is resigned, her hand almost imperceptibly massaging her ankle where it’s propped against her opposite knee. At his blank look, she sighs. “The Nicnevin’s flying lessons. Once you’re done with them, return here. We still have much to discuss.”
He grins. “Oh, that.” Pinning me with a bright look, he shrugs. “Ready to crash into some trees, Your Majesty?”
Behind him, six golden dragonfly wings spread out.
He has wings like mine.
Cressida managed to find another fae, beside Florian, who can actually teach me to use the wings on my back.
That’s almost worth having to watch him and Prae bicker for an entire morning.
“After that”—the autumn queen turns back to the map table—“come find me in the ballroom. We’re going to work on summoning spirits from the Otherworld this afternoon.”
Twenty-Two
Rhoswyn
“Good. You’re here.” Cressida looks up from the small table in the corner of the dusty ballroom with a tired look on her face.
She’s sitting in a plush armchair, a cup of steaming tea cradled in her hands as she surveys me. A single candle on the table illuminates her, but even with so little light, it’s obvious this room hasn’t been used in a long time.
Dust motes swarm around me as I walk, and the heavy drapes that cover the windows are crowned with thick cobwebs. In the centre of the room, three large chandeliers have been lowered to the floor and covered in white linens.
“Come.” Cressida snaps her fingers at me, pushing the book in my direction. “I have something you might be interested in reading. A necromancer’s journal.”
“Tread carefully, kid,” Maeve mumbles, appearing out of nowhere.
I don’t want to tread carefully. My back is aching, and I’m tired from flying all morning. Now I have to deal with a temperamental queen.
“It was prescribed to her as a means of managing the constant presence of spirits that were driving her mad,” Cressida continues as I finally reach her. “She only kept up the practice for a few months, but there are useful bits and pieces here and there.”
I bend my head and skim the vertical lines of text, grateful anew for Cyreus’s magic. If I were still illiterate, no doubt Cressida would be even more grouchy than she already is. After a few minutes of reading the confused ramblings of what I can only assume is a past queen of the Autumn Court, Cressida gets impatient and taps a line on the far right of the page.
“Here. She used to hold balls for the ghosts, and here she talks about how, because of that, the ballroom has slowly become a place where the veil between Faerie and the Otherworld is thinner. She could hear the spirits without even trying. Which makes it the perfect place for you to practise calling vast numbers of ghosts across at once.”
