Page 94 of Beneath a Shattered Sky
The general’s mate rips away, uncaring of the blood that spurts as a result.
“Nicnevin or not, the elders all agree she’s no redcap mate unless?—”
“Was the rulebook lubed when they shoved it up your ass?” Lore demands. “I am an elder—though that makes me sound boring, which I most certainly amnot—and I don’t remember agreeing to anything.”
The rest of my retinue is regarding the squabble between redcaps like it’s amusing, but I’m still caught between roaring anger and confusion.
Lore and Cressida were both so careful not to trigger any of my possessive instincts while I was in Illidwen. He wore my dust everywhere, and Cressida made certain to never be withintouching distance. With her three mates always nearby, and their obvious devotion to one another, I sometimes managed to forget they’d been lovers for centuries.
But I’ve never heard of redcap elders, let alone whatever they’re arguing about.
“Besides,” Lore continues, blinking behind the redcap whose name I still don’t know with a smug smile. “During my mate’s fever, I got to feast on her sweet cunt in the middle of a battle. Far better than just fucking her in the aftermath.”
All the fire of my anger travels straight to my cheeks, and I resist the urge to hide. I’m pretty sure Caed, Prae, and Gryffin are all staring at me in shock.
“Almost scared ten years off my life,” Jaro mutters, breaking the silence that follows. “Now, are you going to escort us to Reyni, or do we have to wait out here all day?”
Lore blinks to me, and I lean back to whisper in his ear.
“Who’s that, and what did he mean I was no redcap mate?”
Lore grins down at me. “That is Finch. He’s got blood for brains, and knows absolutely nothing, little pet.”
His careful avoidance of my question doesn’t reassure me one bit, but I don’t have a chance to question him further, because Finch takes his spear back and bashes it against the trunk of a nearby tree.
I almost expect another portal, or perhaps a rope ladder.
Instead, the enormous tree lifts, branches groaning as the roots swell beneath it and raise the entire trunk upwards, revealing a dirt path five-men-wide that disappears down into the dirt.
“After you, Nicnevin.” The three of them offer me shallow bows, the kind I’m used to getting from the unseelie.
Maeve said they’d bow properly when I earned their respect, and that still hasn’t happened, not that I’m surprised.
They seem to respect blood and slaughter, and I don’t really make a habit of causing either if I can help it.
Drystan and Jaro ride first, with Bree, Prae, and Gryffin quietly bringing up the rear. That means Caed is forced next to us. His horse snickers nervously at being so close to Wraith. My Fomorian’s brows are furrowed, his eyes flicking back to Finch every so often.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, grimacing as the roots drop the tree back down with a heavy thud that makes the damp earth walls shake.
He bites his lip, then shakes his head. “Now’s not the time to explain.”
He’s right, because our tunnel opens out faster than I expected, giving way to a chasm full of… giant mushrooms?
Goddess, it really is. They’re huge. So big that, on the other side of the ravine, one of them is currently serving as a camping spot for several soldiers. Deep below, I can hear the rushing of water, and above us the trees and dirt of the forest floor teeter dangerously, scarcely holding on to the soil at the edge of the chasm.
The horses emerge onto one of the enormous cream polypores slowly, snickering as their hooves sink into the soft flesh. Wraith doesn’t seem to mind so much, but Drystan and the others take it as a cue to dismount, so I follow suit.
“This way,” Finch says, taking the lead. “Your mounts will be cared for while Reyni tells you to piss off back to Elfhame.”
Bree pulls me away from Lore just in time for my redcap to tackle Finch in a great bear hug that sends both of them rolling over the edge of the mushroom.
“Lore—!” My screech is cut off when they reappear right next to me, Lore on top and… tickling Finch?
“You’ve got to start showing my mate more respect, Finchy,” Lore says, and the redcap beneath him trembles with silent laughter.
“Stop it, you asshole!” Finch chokes.
“Why is he tickling him?” I ask Bree quietly.
