Page 35 of Atop the Faerie Throne
Evidently, Elatha didn’t tell them this part of the plan. Some of them look downright nervous at the news.
“First, we’ll conquer the fae, and then we’ll avenge our honour and take on our oldest enemy,” the king continues.
“You’ll get everyone killed,” Caed retorts.
“Caedmon Fomorii, shut your mouth and don’t open it again until I let you.”
My breath catches on a gasp as I realise I have no idea if Caed heard the command or not.
A tiny echo of his triumph resounds down the bond between us, and I relax incrementally. Bree’s magic must have worked, at least well enough to afford us this small win.
Florian’s body sags lower, before it’s replaced by a hazy glamour.
They have him.
“You aren’t going to live long enough to use that key,” I promise Elatha, wrenching my face free from his grasp.
Humour flees from his expression, leaving only a deadened stare. “You’re alone, in chains, and surrounded by iron. No matter what protection you think those stupid marks afford you, you’ll soon find they don’t mean shit to Fomorian soldiers who haven’t seen a female in a long fucking time.”
It takes all my strength to smile back at him. “But I’m not alone.”
Those black eyes grow impossibly flat, and he points one accusatory finger at me. “You think my useless heir is going to save?—”
Soft lips brush my cheek, then Lore slices off his finger.
Twelve
Lorcan
Ooooh! That’s my cue!
Blinking forward—then a second time because I only made it half the distance I had planned thanks to the stupid iron—I peck a kiss to my pet’s cheek.
A finger falls to the floor before the blue asshole can even register the cut, and I frown.
Note to self: use a blunter knife. He probably didn’t even feel that.
The trickle of glamour dissolving runs down my spine, and I grin as the warriors around us reach for their weapons.
My mate gives me the best presents. I’m going to give her this prick’s ugly blue head—after I stuff his cock in his mouth to stop his intolerable gloating.
“Lorcan, stick to the plan!” the dullahan roars, but the blue king is already drawing his hand back, and I’m rapidly losing my chance to take the rest of the fingers that dared to touch my pretty Rose.
If I’m being a hundred percent honest, which I rarely am, I wasn’t actually listening to the plan in the first place. Let’s face it, when you let a redcap loose on the enemy, there’s only one way it’s going to end:
Blood and death.
Dimly I realise that Rose is now surrounded by a flickering golden bubble as Elatha opens and closes his mouth but only manages fragments of speech. Ah, the púca is keeping him from spewing any more shit. Good.
That’ll do until I can feed him his pathetic dick.
“Stop playing and kill the fucker!” Caed growls, and I roll my eyes.
You’d think being a quarter under fae would make him less of a killjoy.
Rose dodges left, trying to slip past Elatha, but a sword almost takes out her feet, passing through the flickery shield and forcing her back.
Oooh, look. Another Fomorian dead. How did that happen?
