Page 6 of Atop the Faerie Throne
“Are we going to talk about this?” I pant. “Drystan, wait.”
“What would you like to talk about?” Goddess, he’s managed to make his tone so bland, despite the anger that’s making his steps so damned fast.
“Your mother’s potion, Cedwyn’s oath, the fact that they’re both gone and?—”
“That’s irrelevant. My uncle has sworn the vow, and Elfhame has the troops that it needs.”
“You know that’s not what I meant. How are you feeling? It’s okay to grieve?—”
“I’m not grieving. They were your enemies, and now they’re dead.”
I grab his sleeve and drag him to a stop. “They were your parents, and you loved them.”
Amber eyes stare down at me, full of that unshakable false ambivalence. “It’s difficult to love two fae who continually torment and use you, and then try to kill your mate.”
That’s the problem with love. No matter how difficult people can be, often our traitorous hearts beat for them, regardless.
I try to say as much, but he gets there first. “If you think I regret anything that happened, you’re wrong. My mother was a traitor, and Cedwynwas not fit to rule. Whether Ashton will be any better remains to be seen. He’s certainly the least stoic king of winter in recorded history.”
“And what about Caed?” I dare to venture.
For the first time ever, the flames in those beautiful amber eyes go out, leaving them flat and empty.
“You wish to discuss the fact that you’re in love with the Fomorian, and if we kill him at Beltaine we’ll break your heart?”
“I can’t change how I feel.”
“Maybe not,” he concedes. “But neither can I. I don’t see how I can forgivethis.”
“He wasn’t in control of his actions.”
“And henever will be. Unless Elatha is killed—which might not happen, even if we win the war—he willalwaysbe a threat to you. And, thanks to your charm, I can’t even protect you from him. What if one day I’m in Bree’s place, and he’s kidnapping you in front of me? You’ve neutered me to protect the fucking enemy, and what happened two days ago was proof of how dangerous that could be.”
My heart squeezes.
He turns on his heel, then just as suddenly whirls back to face me. That familiar fire has roared back to life, and suddenly I’m up against the full force of his anger.
“When did it happen? Were you just going to let us kill him and then suffer in silence?”
He might be furious, but his words are quiet. The last question drips with raw, unhidden anguish, and my lips press shut. The truth is, I don’t know the answer. I didn’t have a plan.
Maybe I started falling for Caed under the mountain. Maybe it was when he saved the rest of my Guard in Siabetha. I realised the truth of it for myself during the Lantern Festival, even if I didn’t dare voice it until now.
Despite my intention to remain impartial, loving my Guard was always going to be as inevitable as breathing. Our souls were cut from the same cloth, and I need all of them, my Fomorian included.
“Do you trust me?” I ask at last.
Drystan swallows, casting his gaze across the deserted street. “I trust your good intentions. I also trust that a male like Caed would know exactly how to capitalise on your overly compassionate nature.”
My deep sigh echoes across the chasm between us. The hardest thing about arguing with him is that he’s often right, and usually well-meaning, for all that he’s as prickly as a hedgehog.
“What if I asked you to reserve judgement until after we’ve retaken Elfhame?” I ask.
His jaw clenches, that vein throbbing at his temple. Right when I think he’s about to offer me a scathing retort, he takes a deep breath and looks away. “I can’t make a bargain like that unless I know what you plan to do with him.”
“What do you mean?”
He starts walking again, his pace mercifully slower now. “When the venom leaves his system, are you going to leave him in the Court of Blades, under guard, or try to welcome him back with open arms,knowingthat he’s being controlled by his father…”
