Page 123 of Atop the Faerie Throne
Fuck him. Fuck him for even thinking that I would do anything that might shatter what little of our mate remains. And fuck me for—urgh.
I can’t take this. I can’t.
Without a word, I slam out of the room, taking the stairs three at a time with my hands curled into fists.
“You’re running away?” Jaro demands, following after me. “You’re going to leave her?—?”
Turning on my heel, I stop him in place with a glare, then resume my path.
If only the wolf were so easily brought to heel.
“What are you going to do?” he presses, as I resume grinding my teeth into dust. “Drystan. You can’t leave her without even?—”
I whirl as I reach the next platform, fist raised, before I can stop myself. I bounce off his shield and find myself flat on my arse a second later, a giant wolf poised to rip out my throat. The beast stares at me, primal and uncomprehending. Whatever hold Jaro has over him is gone, and the feral creature only cares that its mate is in pain.
“I can’t fix this if you maim me,” I growl, returning his bared teeth with a snarl of my own.
That quickly, he shifts back, uncaring of his nudity.
“You think you can give them the bond back?” The honest hope in his eyes is too much, and I refuse to look at him as I shove back to my feet.
No.
Truthfully, I doubt it’s possible. The Goddess has decided, and her Will has been wrought. There will be no easy way of restoring what’s been lost.
“I am going to ask someone wiser than me.”
“Do you want backup?” He looks guiltily in the direction of our mate, and I know he’s as fed up with being powerless as I am.
He needs something to do other than keep vigil.
“Manage the troops while I’m gone. Keep her alive.”
With those last words, I abandon him and head for the stables. I don’t need a saddle or bridle to ride Blizzard, and fetching them would waste time, so I ignore the flustered stable hands as I lead my horse out of the stall. Then, in a move that shows just how far gone I am for my mate, I ignore the dozens of watching fae in the courtyard, mount my horse, and tug my head free of my neck.
With one hand fisted in my braids and the other tangled in his mane, I kick the stallion into a gallop, urging him up and into the morning sky.
The skyabove Calimnel is dark by the time we reach the peak, and the lights of the Otherworld are twinkling above, faint, but present despite how late in the year it is. I urge my horse down into the mouth of the Sanctuary, leading him to one of the long-dead braziers and lighting it so he’s warm. It’s been a hard two days’ riding, with no rest. He deserves something to eat, but I don’t have that, so I hope the fire makes up for it.
I pat his neck twice in gratitude, before pacing back to the cavernous entrance and the shimmering sky beyond.
This won’t work. It’s been too long since Samhain. The veil is at its thickest. What I’m about to try goes against every law that I’ve been taught.
Yet, the mating bond is sparing me no quarter. It resonates with the echo of my Nicnevin shutting down. There’s nothing I won’t do to fix this.
I just hope I’m not alone.
“Grandfather,” I call.
Archie appears on my left, touching the ribbon over his neck in greeting as he regards me. He’s never been a spirit of many words, even when he used to visit me as a child, or when he taught me the lore of our kind in quiet moments.
With no reason to torment the Froshtyns, he’s returned to his favourite haunt, just as I hoped. That saves time. Unlike Rose, I’m no necromancer to summon spirits when I need them, and I wasn’t looking forward to searching Calimnel for him.
“It’s been a while since you sought me out, lad,” Archie eventually says.
Placing my head back on my body, I nod grimly. “I need your help.”
He raises a brow. “The Lord of the Wild Hunt escorts the dead to rest. Only necromancers may command their aid.”
