Page 77 of Beneath a Shattered Sky
“You weren’t entirely wrong,” she admits. “In the Deep Caves, there were carvings of Balor leading your people away from some kind of monsters in the sky.”
Prae’s eyes light up, the way they always do when new information is there for the taking. “The original Fomorians lived down there—although Ancestors only know how they survived the damned tunnel wyrms—and moved up to the fortress slowly over decades. So much history was abandoned when they sealed them off.”
Rose is absorbing Prae’s little lecture like a bright-eyed sponge, her abundant curiosity shining through. And Prae, the show off, is living for the experience of actually having someone—or two someones, if Gryffin’s rapt attention is any indication—who actually cares about ancient bloody history.
“The elders teach that our race was once enslaved and forced to mine ores for creatures with metal-based magic called the bàsron. Balor started a revolt, seeking our freedom, but he failed.” Her hands skim across her dress, reliving the second-hand embarrassment all Fomorians feel about Balor’s defeats. “The bàsron retaliated by sealing Balor and his kin into the mountain.” She pauses. “But we don’t know how they ended up in Faerie. When our Ancestors broke the surface, prepared to fight for their freedom all over again, they expected to find a realm with red skies and obviously… that didn’t happen.”
“Father said Balor must have found a portal,” I recall.
“Precisely,” Prae agrees.
“If that were the case, then why wouldn’t these bàsron come after him?” Gryffin asks, interjecting. “Seems like a stupid move to have your slaves run away and just leave them to it.”
But if the bàsron had sealed Balor beneath the mountain to die, maybe they didn’t even know their slaves were missing.
Prae shakes her head. “According to the elders, the bàsron bound their magic to pieces of drake gold, which were used to open portals so they could plunder other realms. Most of them agree that Balor’s medallion is one such key. The details surrounding it all are fascinating, though. Once all this is over, I would love to send an expedition down to the Deep Caves. Obviously, we’d be careful not to reopen whatever portal Balor led our Ancestors through, but there’s so much lost… Just think of how much of our former culture is probably waiting down there.”
Gryffin’s wearing a sickeningly worshipful look as he watches Prae glow with excitement—not that she’s noticed—and I want to snort.
He looks like he’d dive into the Deep Caves himself if she asked him to, and I pray that I don’t wear that love-stricken expression when I look at Rose. Suppressing a snort, I follow him and Prae out onto the interconnected branches of the palace tree.
We climb the stairs into chaos. Loud, crowded, and unforgiving madness makes me tense. The crowds are immense, and I move closer to Rose without meaning to. How am I supposed to protect her amidst all this?
Market stalls spread out as far as the eye can see. Some are selling food—the syrupy sweet scent weaving around us like a cloud of temptation until my mouth waters. In my head, my father’s voice scolds me for my very un-Fomorian sweet tooth. I was forced to eat bone broth for weeks after he caught me eating fae food as a teenager. The memory makes me cringe, and I turnmy focus away from the colourful powder-coated nuts roasting beside us with a scowl.
The forest around us is decorated with a hundred red hanging lanterns, the light glowing and reflecting off the golden leaves. It matches Rose’s dress, and I glance at her again, only to notice a stray strand of glamoured brown hair. Without thinking, I reach up to push it away from her face, only to still as a blade presses into my kidneys.
The redcap? No. He would’ve said something. Gloated. This must be Bree.
Dropping my hand, I try not to let their lack of trust grate on me. I did promise not to touch her, and her taking my arm was probably already pushing that.
“This way,” Gryffin says. “There’s the market and street performers to enjoy before the lanterns are lit. Oh, and it’s traditional for mates to split up and buy each other gifts to be opened after the festival.”
Can I throat punch him? I can’t think of anything worse than trying to find a gift for Rose amongst all this shit.
Prae rolls her eyes. “I amnotfalling for that.”
“He can’t lie,” Rose reminds her, before turning to me. “I won’t be long. I’ve already got an idea.”
She has?
She skips away, and Prae sighs, grabbing her purse and dumping half the contents into my hand before following after the Nicnevin.
“You always let your cousin control the funds?” Gryffin asks, and I want to groan.
Not only do I now have to find a gift for the Goddess Incarnate—an impossible task—but I have to do it while putting up with this prick?
“Fomorian females are always in charge of the finances.” I count out the gold coins in my hand, surprised Prae was sogenerous. “They tend to be less likely to waste it all on drinking and fucking.”
Gryffin’s brows rise, and I want to deck him all over again.
“Sounds like I might fit in better with the Fomorians than I do with the high fae,” he comments mildly. “So, want to throw me a bone here?” He surveys the stalls casually. “What exactly should I get your cousin?”
Like he hasn’t got a clue after a week of following her around like he’s her personal irritating shadow?
“Frilly dresses,” I answer immediately. “And plenty of soft metals. In fact, jewellery is her favourite thing. The bigger and gaudier?—”
“You know I can taste your lies, right? And it’s horrible.” Gryffin swallows with an expression of disgust. “So, no dresses, no soft metals, and no jewellery. That leaves… not a lot.”
