Page 157 of Beneath a Shattered Sky
Worse, I’m not ignorant of Rose’s growing feelings either. I can’t kill him—as I fervently want to—if it shatters my mate’s heart in the process.
I would rather die than forgive Caed… But I’d rather he prove himself worthy of forgiveness than hurt Rose. He’s just not eventrying. His damned pride is as unshakeable as it was the first day we crossed swords, and if he can’t put that aside and?—
The large double doors swing open at the far end of the hall, disrupting my pensive thoughts. In steps a familiar—if unexpected—figure.
Kitarni glides down the space between tables in immaculate robes, and I watch Rose’s face light up at the sight of the High Priestess.
Goddess, her smile is beautiful. Almost enough for me to forget the instant disapproval it’s garnered from the rest of the court. Before I can warn her against doing anything rash, she’s on her feet and sprinting towards the dryad, wrapping the taller female in a warm embrace.
The dryad chuckles—because of course she does—and the court’s interest turns predatory.
The offices of high priestess and Nicnevin are so intertwined that sowing division between the two is impossible, but there are still those who would try.
I move closer instinctively, dropping my glamour in a silent message of my own. Rose is protected, even when they can’t see it.
“I’ve missed you!” Rose murmurs.
“As I have missed you,” Kitarni replies, drawing back to study our Nicnevin. “I never intended to be away from your side this long. It took too long to heal the rifts. I apologise for not seeing the threat sooner or realising its severity.”
“Eero had a large part to play,” Rose says, too damned understanding for her own good. “Besides, you got the Temple back on our side, right?”
“The full force of the Temple’s army is on its way to Elfhame and things are moving apace. Florian will be pleased with the numbers we’ve managed to summon.” Kitarni gives Rose a sly smile. “A certain trail of miracle shrine blessings helped bolster the Temple Guard’s numbers. Fae are lining up to serve the ‘Great Fifth Nicnevin.’”
The two females part, and I want to groan at Rose’s scarlet cheeks and the way they link arms on their way back to the high table. Calimnel is not an easily accessible destination for most fae, making its people famously insular. Theothernesswith which the Nicnevin’s party are comporting themselves is probably going to be the source of considerable gossip for at least a decade.
“How goes things with your Guard?” Kitarni asks. “And with yourself? All of Faerie has heard how you threatened Cressida and rode into Calimnel on the back of a barghest.”
Rose’s cheeks turn scarlet, and I curse the reaction even as a tiny part of me finds it endearing.
“It wasn’t quite like that,” she mumbles. “And my Guard are…” She glances over her shoulder at me, then purses her lips. “Coexisting.”
It’s perhaps the kindest word she could’ve found to describe the situation, and Kitarni must realise it because she levels her perspicacious gaze on me for an instant before returning it to Rose.
“We should bless the citadel’s shrine while you’re here,” the high priestess suggests, taking a seat opposite Rose. “It’s the final stop on your pilgrimage, though I suppose Siabetha’s Temple remains unblessed.”
At the mention of Siabetha, I have to resist the urge to frown. Strange how remaining unaffected was once so easy. Perhaps Ashton was right; too long away from Calimnel has affected me more than I care to admit. My normal shields have fractured, the sharp edge honed here dulled by the other courts. Even, to a lesser extent, by Rose.
“Did Eero not attempt to prevent you from leaving the city?” I ask the high priestess.
“The King of Summer hasn’t left his palace since the Nicnevin escaped him.” Kitarni twists a branch of her hair around a long, twiggy finger.
All deciduous dryads moult upon entry to Winter, losing their leaves at the border. It’s probably why so few live in the north. Like this, her hair looks like twisted braids. “He’s up to something, and I don’t trust it. No one starts a civil war and then just goes quiet.”
“He sent Torrance and Mervyn out to sully Rose’s good name,” Jaro objects. “And there was the box of nathairs in Illidwen.”
“None of those things can be directly linked back to him,” Kitarni observes. “Mervyn was a temple rogue, dismissed from the court he was assigned to advise. Torrance is a well-known drunkard and cheat, who will claim whatever he can in the hopes of avoiding jail. As for the snakes, they could’ve been sent by anyone with a connection to Rose. Eero is ensuring he has plausible deniability should the matter come to trial.”
“If it comes to trial, he tried to kill the Nicnevin,” I growl, cursing myself for the slip. “Lorcan and I witnessed it. He killed?—”
Rose’s harsh intake of breath silences me faster than a kick to the gut.
“The death of one of Diana’s sons is not something any fae would take lightly,” I finish lamely.
The Fourth Nicnevin was well respected by all fae, especially the seelie. Her reign was one of the longest periods of peace in our history, though arguably a lot of that peace was a result of the Third Nicnevin absolutely trouncing the Fomorians in the last war…
“We will light a candle for him when we visit the shrine,” Kitarni says. “Have you tried summoning him to say your goodbyes?”
Rose shakes her head. “It… didn’t seem right to use my gifts like that. With Mab, Titania, and Maeve, it’s different—they were assigned to me by Danu—but it felt like if I summoned Bram, I was disturbing his afterlife for my own gain.”
