Page 46 of Atop the Faerie Throne
“Rein it in, little pet,” Lore murmurs, pressing kisses to her flushed cheeks. “You don’t want your blue asshole to drop dead, too, do you?”
Shit. I forgot all about Caed’s curse. My gut turns over as I realise Lore just admitted her dying is a very real possibility.
“Rosie,” I begin, searching her eyes for any sign of my mate while my wolf tears and claws at my insides. “Come on. I’m begging you. Just pull back. Please.”
I shove myself along our bond, trying to get to her, but all that answers is the endless rush of magic from a deity a hundred times more powerful than I can ever be.
My claws erupt, eyesight flashing yellow as my wolf battles to get to his mate. I can’t win. Not when blood starts to weep from the inner corners of her eyes, her nostrils, and finally the corners of her lips. My beast howls as he bursts free of our skin, shoving his face into her abdomen. His tongue bathes her face, tasting her life force mixed with her dust, tears, and pain, but unable to do anything about it.
Please, Danu.I beg the Goddess as Lore takes over the task of holding her up.
Last time this happened, Drystan managed to snap her out of it. “Rhoswyn—” he begins.
Whatever he might’ve said is lost when she convulses.
“The iron.” Lore blinks her away in the next breath.
Too late.
My wolf’s paw burns like it’s been dipped in molten lava, and he whines, lapping frantically at the spot. It’s enough of a distraction that I manage to slip back into control, and I shift back immediately. Drystan and I exchange pained looks as Lore reappears…
Without Rose.
His manic eyes are lit with a murderous sheen as the three of us try to think past the lingering pain in our marks and the deadened branch of our souls where our mating bonds should be.
“If you’ll excuse me,” he says, voice disturbingly empty as he passes Drystan something. “I haven’t yet gotten my pet a mating gift.”
The dullahan opens his palm, displaying the shimmering, ash-covered snowflake necklace that Lore passed him, then clenches his fist around it again. “Redcap, you need to?—”
Lore’s already gone.
I don’t think I’m imagining it when the screams of the dying below grow louder.
I kick at the powder with my bare foot, my toes itching at the contact. “Lore’s right. It had to be the iron.”
Somehow, the stress of using so much magic while around the metal she’s so sensitive to must have overwhelmed her body. This awful powder gets everywhere. It was on her boots, in her clothes, probably even in her lungs.
Our mate bonds must’ve helped, otherwise she would’ve burnt out far sooner, but in the end, they still weren’t enough.
“Agreed.” Drystan flexes his palm with a furious glare, no doubt trying to dispel the throbbing itch that lingers long after our Nicnevin has returned to Danu. “Praedra has a lot to answer for. Maybe we should force her to invent a way to clean this shit up.”
“You really think she’ll be in a talkative mood? There’s a good chance Caed just got smote by Danu. He did abandon Rose to chase after his father.”
Admittedly, I understand his reasons for doing so. There’s no chance that Drystan will ever trust him while Elatha lives, so Caed’s as good as dead if his father makes it out of this.
“Come on,” I mutter. “We should go after him and Bree. They might need our help.”
If I just stand here doing nothing, I’ll go mad.
The words have barely left my mouth when the púca drops in on massive black feathered wings, looking the worse for wear. There’s no Caed with him, and my posture slumps. Has Danu already killed him?
“Elatha?” Drystan asks.
Bree rolls his shoulders as his wings disappear, sighing. “On a ship, probably sailing back to his mountain.”
“With the Goddess-damned Fomorian, I presume?” The dullahan glowers out over the parapet, lifting his sword and cleaning the blood and dust from it with his sleeve.
Personally, I don’t believe it. Caed worked too hard to earn Rose’s forgiveness. The way he treated her on her mating night was reverential. No male does that, then turns their back on their female.
