Page 32 of Atop the Faerie Throne
This has rendered me as weak as an iron shackle. Unless we can find somewhere that’s clear of this stuff, I’ll be useless. Even my Guard will surely be affected.
Our plan hinges on me being able to summon the spirits of the fallen knights, and my Guard being able to keep me safe while I do so.
I cling to his chest, seeking comfort in his warmth as I subtly cast glances around us.
Goddess, everything is covered. The moat and the waterfalls which fall from the lowest of the floating gardens are red with rust. They cascade into withered gardens that were once lush and full of life. The whole place stinks of smoke and decay, and there are huge piles of rubble around the pond. If I had to guess, that must be where the hidden entrance to the tunnel to Orvendel once was.
Can this even be fixed?
The fae built this place to invite nature—invite the Goddess—inside. There were so few rooms which could’ve been sealed against such an attack. Perhaps the cellars and the vaults underground.
Danu’s rage beats against me, pooling heavily in my gut as I struggle to sort her emotions from my own doubt and heartbreak.
One thing is abundantly clear. If Florian was here when the fighting broke out, it’ll be a miracle if he’s still alive.
“Nicnevin,” Prae whispers, the heat of her brushing alongside me even though I can’t see her. “I am so sorry. I swear, it was a prototype. I never thought?—”
Dropping my head so that my hair will hide my lips, I reply, “Now isn’t the time. How do we make the plan work?”
Her silence is damning.
She was smart enough to design a weapon that could do this. Now I need her to be smart enough to figure out how we overcome it.
“Iron is heavy,” she finally says. “There’s a chance that the highest rooms haven’t been affected. If you can fly up there….”
My wings flex where they’re caught between Caed’s arms and my spine, and I nod, lifting my eyes to my garden at the very top of the palace. There’s still greenery poking over the edge, which seems like a beacon of hope.
I could be safe up there. However, it’s unlikely to be a spiritual hotspot. The plan fails if I can’t use my magic to rout the Fomorians.
“Find Florian and get him to my rooms,” I order her.
My head pounds as we draw closer and closer to my desecrated home.
Goddess, I don’t dare breathe any deeper for fear of inhaling more of the stuff. All my training and hard work is useless in the face of the shimmery piles of powdered metal.
We reach the great doors of the palace and come face to face with one of the Fomorians I least want to see.
Draard.
The enormous, malevolent warrior leans against the shattered doors, flicking a knife in the air and catching it repeatedly. When Caed tries to pass him, he shoves off the frame and plants himself directly in our path.
“So the half breed traitor returns, as ordered,” he says, giving us both a once over.
“Shut the fuck up and get out of my way,” Caed retorts.
“So eager to hand over the fairy?” Draard leans in closer. I can smell the alcohol on his breath. “The king has granted me permission to string your carcass up from the walls once he’s done with you. I’m not sure there’ll be much left, but I’ll make do.”
Caed gives up waiting and slams past him, driving his shoulder hard into the larger male until he moves. “If you’re so favoured, why are you out here rather than licking my father’s boots?” he calls back. “Face it. You’re still only useful for guarding doors in conquered cities.”
“I’m going to enjoy feeding you your teeth until you learn to keep that big mouth of yours shut, bastard,” Draard snarls.
Caed says nothing, but he quickens his pace, probably in response to the bolt of fear that radiates from me. The halls are a little better, if only because they’ve been well-travelled, forcing the iron powder to the sides, but my weakness and the headache remain. Still, I won’t be carried into the hall like a prize.
I push at his arms until he puts me down, keeping close. My knees threaten to give out.
Deadened grey vines cascade through open windows, and I swear they reach for me as I stumble again.
“Careful,” Caed mutters, ignoring the snickers of the Fomorians around us, then takes my elbow and helps me forward.
