Page 118 of Atop the Faerie Throne
“What the—” Another giggle bursts free, and I slam my lips together as my cheeks heat and my belly starts to ache from holding it in. “No. I take it back. These are terrible.”
Caed unwraps his valravn twist. It darts from the wrapper and zips around his head, swiftly evading his attempts to catch it. It’s amazing, beautiful magic. The kind of whimsical things that make my heart soar like it did during my first days in the realm.
Caed finally catches the black and red sweet in one hand and shoves it into his mouth, only to find himself hovering inches in the air. “This is absolutely ridiculous,” he mutters. “Fuck it. I’m having the troll thing next. How much worse can it be?”
It turns out that a trollish liquorice is worse. He’s stuck speaking in grunts and snorts for a full two minutes after eating one. I’m not sure if it’s the laughing drop or genuine amusement that makes me cackle as he gets more and more frustrated by the inability to speak. In an effort to dispel the effects, I shove a fizzy barghest into my mouth.
“They’re actually pretty good,” he finally manages.
“Awooo,” I howl in agreement, then squeeze my eyes shut and shake my head as it’s his turn to laugh. It takes four more small lupine howls before I can get words out again. “I think I’ll stick to the pixie mallows.”
My cheeks must be permanently pink from the amused looks we’re getting, but we’re hardly the only ones, nor the loudest in the crowd.
“I would pay gold to anyone who could trick the dullahan into eating one of these,” Caed mumbles, grabbing another sweet at random as we finally reach the steps up to the wall. The reminder drags me out of the brief spell of levity, and he curses. “I didn’t mean to bring that up. I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault,” I mumble, putting more focus on keeping my balance on the stairs than is really necessary. “Maybe…”
The sentence lingers, unfinished, and neither of us rushes to fill the silence. I shove another laughing drop into my mouth, but it’s hollow.
The sun is just dipping onto the horizon. Conversation all around us falls to a hush as anticipation fills the crowd. The second the glowing orb starts to dip, a cheer rises, and the bonfires go up in a whoosh of flame.
Warbling voices join the cheers. Fae kiss and laugh all around us, completely unaware of the fear gripping my heart.
“Still alive,” Caed jokes, and I give him an admonishing slap to the arm. “Looks like the Goddess might grant me until the end of the festival.
“Caed, I…”
“I’d rather spend it loving you,” he says, cutting me off. “Having fun, than kissing that idiot’s ass.”
“Drystan could?—”
“Rose, the male has tried everything. It’s not happening. Just… enjoy the moment.” He raises one of the brown discs to my lips, and I take it obligingly, only to discover it’s one of the troll ones.
“Ohg grubt morp bleght,” I tell him, then offer him a scowl. It doesn’t taste bad, but the grunting is less than flattering.
“Yeah, I know. I do have the best ass of all your Guard,” Caed deliberately misinterprets. “It’s a shame the others weren’t so blessed.”
“Cabht orscht,” I roll my eyes at him. “Agght leog.” I shove away the second he aims in my direction.
“You know you love it.”
In revenge, I rummage in my own bag, fingers catching on a round sphere in the bottom. With a brow raised in challenge, I peel off the wrapper and hold the glittery ball out to him.
Cocky smile in place, he bends and eats it from my hand.
I hold my breath, hoping that this one comes with something that will lighten the mood again. Only… his brows draw together, and he shifts his weight from left to right instead.
“What…” He clears his throat, does an odd little sidestep, and tries again. “What was that one?”
Looking down at the wrapper, I suck my lower lip between my teeth, cheeks turning scarlet.
“Erm… it says it’s a…” I lower my voice. “Faedust fuckbomb.”
He makes a funny sound in the back of his throat that might be half chuckle, half groan, and the tips of his double-pointed ears turn navy. “You’ve got to try this.”
His hand goes straight into the bag that he’s currently holding protectively in front of his crotch, like some kind of shield. As soon as he finds it, he holds it out to me expectantly.
“What does it do?” I ask, peering around the bag.
