Page 43 of Beneath a Shattered Sky
“Cressida allows this?” I frown. “Surely…”
Lore cackles. “Pet, who do you think does half of the disappearing? Cressidick has her fingers in all the pies.”
So the queen of autumn is also a queen of criminals? I shudder.
Somehow, I fear she might end up being worse than Eero and Aiyana put together.
Thirteen
Rhoswyn
Ihave to go.
The glowing embers of the fire pit are still smouldering as I slip from Bree’s arms and away from the camp that night. He’s sleeping so deeply he doesn’t notice I’m gone, curled up in a warm winged cocoon that I really want to disappear back into.
I cast a cursory glance at the rest of the group as I pass, but they’re all out as well. Caed and Prae are sleeping with their swords clutched tightly by their sides on ‘their’ side of the camp, and Jaro is on his back across from them, his mouth open on a sonorous snore. Lore’s feet are the only part of him I can see. He’s buried himself in his bedroll upside down, his bare toes pointed in the direction of the last few embers of the fire.
The urging in the back of my chest pangs again, returning my attention to why I woke in the first place. There’s something… off.
Almost anticipatory.
This part of the Summer Court is all dappled jungle glades and deep turquoise pools of water, both welcome in the midstof the baking heat and unrelenting sunshine. My Guard chose to make our latest camp on the bank of one of the wide, tranquil ponds. Something flashes in the corner of my eye, drawing my attention across the moss-covered stones to the trunks of the whispering, silver-barked aspens on the far side of the water.
A flicker of white disappears before I can make out what it is.
My heartbeat quickens. Someone—or something—is there. Hidden in the darkness of the ancient trees. Something that… calls to me. The ache in my chest strains towards it, and before I can do anything else, like reach out for my males, my bare feet are skittering across the rocks, drawing me out over boulders that extend from the water like stepping stones, then retreat beneath the surface once I’ve passed.
Magic, I realise, relaxing a little.
No Fomorian could do this. That doesn’t mean I’m not in danger, but it does ease the terror in my chest slightly as I reach the opposite bank and look back over my shoulder.
My males haven’t stirred, and that more than anything, convinces me that something else is afoot here. With gritted teeth, I force myself to stop with my toes buried deep in the loamy soil. Dotted between the trees are arches and crumbling walls, the remnants of an ancient villa—or so Bree said on our way here. Apparently, the Summer Court is full of such places. The high fae moved towards the coast over the years, lured by the wealth of the ocean, leaving behind those under fae who revel in the deep wild places; leshens and kikimory and the occasional ogre.
Their old villas have been reclaimed by the forest, and I stumble through the ruined archways left behind as the pressure in my chest becomes more insistent.
I can pick out a blur of white in the distance, and I justcan’tignore it. The chase is exhilarating, my pace quickening as I give in and surrender completely to the compulsion to follow.
Cool mosaic floor beneath my toes makes me shiver as I hurry after it. Ferns caress my ankles, and I swear the foliage is moving out of my way, creating a path where there wasn’t one before. A glance behind me confirms it. I’m being led, and the plants are rallying behind me. Cutting me off from my Guard. Crowding me forward.
Is this why Drystan hasn’t found me yet, even though he’s on watch?
Faerie is doing this. Mab said it would always aid the Nicnevin, but that doesn’t explain what’s happening now.
My breath starts to come in choppy little pants, and before I know it, I’m running, chasing them on trembling legs. A stitch burns in my side as I trip into what was clearly once some kind of courtyard, but now is so overgrown that only the finest slivers of moonlight can break through to illuminate the space.
A statue of a nude fae reclines against a giant tree on the far side. Water cascades from a jug on her shoulder over her full breasts and down her legs into a broken pond at her feet. There, at the base, and drinking deeply from the flowing water, is the largest white stag I’ve ever seen.
He’s huge, looming taller than I am, even without the magnificent rack of golden antlers atop its head, and that height becomes even more obvious as he straightens and pins me with a pair of coal-black eyes.
The weight in them lances through me like a burst of thunder. Dark, ageless knowledge, the likes of which does not belong in the realms of mortals nor fae, pierces me like a knife. I feel seen, flayed, broken, and reformed all in the space of one glance. My skull shrieks, ears ringing as the intensity grows until I can’t take it anymore.
Bowing my head and breaking contact is a matter of survival. Still, my head pounds and my eyes water as the ache in my chest finally falls silent.
The white hart.
What was it Titania said? The white hart is a sign from Danu and bestows wisdom on the fae who finds it…I don’t feel like it bestowed wisdom. In fact, I’m pretty sure it just split my brain in two.
No part of me wants to repeat that experience.
