Page 163 of Beneath a Shattered Sky
“Oh, that won’t be necessary.” Torrance gets to his feet at last, hands behind his back. “As nice as this little chat has been, Nicnevin, I’m merely here to deliver a message.”
He takes a willing step back, feet slipping slightly on the slope.
My frown deepens.
He’s not going to jump. Torrance is too full of himself for that to be an option.
“What message?” I ask, begrudgingly.
“If you can’t respect the new sovereignty of an independent Summer Court, Eero’s spies will hand over every weakness the fae have to those who will.”
Elatha. He’s talking about giving Elatha information that will help him win the war.
“He’d hand the fae over to the Fomorians on a silver platter simply because he refuses to bow to me?”
I can’t contain the incredulity that slips into my voice. Eero is still fae. I know he’s working with Draard, but for some reason I expected him to have some principles.
Torrance takes another step back, losing his balance slightly on the icy floor as an unhinged smile creases his cheeks. “Many would argue that you already handed the queendom over to them, when you let their most deadly general into your bed.”
“He’s bluffing.” Bree’s hand is clasping mine so tightly that I think he might break bones. “Eero would never?—”
Torrance brings his hands—hisunshackledhands—around to his front, and Bree’s breath catches.
Cupped in his palms is a single, ink-black rat.
“Please—” Torrance begins, but his next words are silent. Bree has stolen the sound from the entire cell block.
His father doesn’t seem to care. The rat disappears into inky mist, reforming over his throat as Bree rushes forward, slamming his hand soundlessly against the crystal barrier.
“Stop him,” I mouth at Mab, who rushes the door as well in spirit form.
But it’s enchanted. Magic-proof.
She can’t cross. I start to funnel more magic to her in the hopes of her breaking it, but everything happens too fast.
Guards are rushing towards us, but they’re not going to make it in time.
No one can stop Torrance when he raises a hand in farewell, turns, and slides the remaining few feet to the yawning sky beyond.
He plummets downward and out of sight. The image is all the more unsettling for the lack of sound. There should be a scream, a splat, anything.
The door finally bursts open, and Bree steps through just far enough to lose his balance. His arms windmill uselessly. He’s going to fall. My heart lurches even though logically, I know he has wings.
At the last possible moment, Ashton reaches in and snatches him back through the door.
Safe.
Still, the shock makes my púca lose his concentration. All of the panicked noise around us returns in a rush that stings my ears.
It grows deafening as Torrance soars up again, held aloft in the arms of a high fae wearing guard armour. For a relieved second, I think he’s been re-apprehended. Then the feeling sours as the guard flies in the opposite direction, and the bard has the audacity to wink at us as his companion retreats.
Then they’re both gone. Hidden by a glamour.
“After him!” Ashton and I order at the same time.
“How did this happen?” I demand, as fae with wings dash out of the cell, taking flight. “I thought these cells were secure.”
“I don’t think you need to worry about his escape remaining a mystery for long, your Majesty,” Ashton replies tartly. “King Cedwyn will be even more furious than you are.”
