Page 76 of Beneath a Shattered Sky
“Keep your nose out of my business.” Prae shoves past me, and I raise my eyebrows at the sight of the Knight Commander’s sword strapped down her spine. “Andyou. Stop stalking me. I didn’t invite you to come with us.”
She’s wearing the pretty dress she was oohing over days ago, and my stomach sinks as I realise it’s the exact shade of his hair.
Prae has her secret girly moments, and wearing something so pretty just to get blood on it would kill her. Her white hair hasbeen twisted into elaborate braids, and she’s even gone all out on her dark blue war paint.
Ancestors. She intends to mate the bastard.
And if she does that, and then I fail to win the other two’s approval, it will kill her.
Gryffin takes in her skin-tight copper dress with a smirk as he fakes a bow. “It’s only stalking if the stalkee doesn’t like it. Tell me, sweetheart, did you pick that dress for me?”
A look of pure disbelief crosses my cousin’s face before she rolls her good eye. “Go wither your own dick. This is just what I wear.”
I open my mouth to reply that, actually, the dress is more conservative than most of her outfits, but Rose appears in the doorway, and the rest of their banter fades into the background.
“Fuck.” The word slips out before I can catch myself.
Prae snorts before reaching over to shut my mouth for me.
The black and crimson bodice of Rose’s dress leaves her shoulders entirely bare, and the wispy sleeves that float around her arms do little to cover her there either. My eyes, apparently having forgotten the wolf shifter’s warning from earlier, rake over every inch of exposed skin, lingering at the soft upper slopes of her breasts.
If she bends over, I have the distinct impression that they’ll spill out. How long will my head remain attached to my shoulders if I spend the entire evening dropping things for her to pick up.?
On her head is a tiny scarlet top hat surrounded by feathery things I don’t have a name for. The redcap isn’t even trying to be subtle about staking his claim. At least it matches the ruffled skirt that looks like it’s actually glowing with the fire of embers.
“Stunning, Your Majesty.” Gryffin inclines his head, and I want to gut the bastard.
“Aren’t you supposed to tell me I look stunning?” Prae quips.
The fae smirks. “Jealous?”
Turning on her heel, she strides away instead of answering him. “Are we going to this festival or just making the corridor look pretty?”
I don’t miss the way the Autumn Court prince’s eyes are glued to my cousin’s ass.
Remembering myself at the last second, I offer Rose my arm, and she eyes it warily before taking it. My mind flashes back to a different time, under a mountain, where she did the same, and I chew on my lip as I debate whether to bring it up.
“At least you’re not leading me on a tour of the Fellgothan trophy halls this time,” Rose mutters, and my brows rise as I realise her mind went to the same place.
A glamour flickers over her a second later, brown hair replacing strawberry blonde, and her telltale eyes becoming a pretty—butwrong—shade of icy blue. I almost tell her to undo it, but I understand the need.
Rose wants to be able to enjoy herself without a hundred people staring at her. Prae and I will draw enough attention as it is.
“But Fomorian culture is so riveting,” I quip, steering us until we’re just behind Prae and her prince, who’s definitely failed to get her to hold his hand. Sucker.
“Was it culture?” Rose chuckles under her breath. “Here I thought you were just spouting dogmatic half-truths about Balor being the saviour of all Fomorians to impress me.”
I shrug. “Balor was pretty impressive.”
Prae snorts. “Let me guess, my idiot cousin regaled you with his war-time accomplishments and couldn’t tell you anything else?”
“Hey, that’s not true!” I protest.
“You barely listened to any of the elders’ lessons.” Prae is loving this, I can tell.
“Yeah, well, some of us were too busy doing… important shit.”
Prae opens her mouth to tell Rose exactly how I spent my time as a child—usually getting into trouble—but the Nicnevin interrupts.
