Page 70 of Atop the Faerie Throne
“It’s cute that you’re saying that when you’ve been following your cousin around more loyally than the Nicnevin’s barghest.” Gryffin’s ease is slowly calming both of them down, although I know it won’t take much to send them off again.
“Shut up,” Prae retorts. “Anyway, like I said. I never meant for it to be used. I just wanted to see if I could do it. It started as a way to launch bombs farther, and then I just tweaked and tweaked…”
Her voice gets softer and softer. “If I knew…” Regret drips from the unfinished sentence.
“I’m half convinced that Danu saddled us together to ensure you didn’t invent any more catastrophic devices,” Florian grumbles under his breath. “I can’t wait for you to explain all of that to the Nicnevin’s Court when they try you for war crimes.”
“Ifthey find out,” Gryffin interrupts.
“If? What do you mean, if?”
“As far as the fae are concerned, Elatha might have an entire mountain full of inventors matching my skill and ingenuity.” Prae’s not lying, there’s no bitterness flooding my mouth, but that doesn’t make what she’s suggesting any less true. “There’s no reason for anyone to think I designed that weapon. I certainly didn’t fire it.”
“Exactly,” Gryffin agrees. “Trials are such a long and drawn-out business.”
“The honourable thing to do is?—”
There’s a rustle of clothing and a hitch of breath before Prae says, “Do you really want to think about honour right now, commander?”
Her voice drops to a husky whisper, quickly followed by a deep masculine groan.
Wait… did Prae just…?
“No fucking in the throne room!” Jaro protests, evidently coming to the same conclusion that I have as he bursts through the doors.
Yup. Prae is on her knees between the two fae princes. I barely get a glimpse of wandering hands before they jump apart. My brother’s cheeks are almost as red as Lore’s cap as he spins to give me his back, frantically shoving his clothing to rights as Gryffin helps their mate off the floor.
“You’re back.” Florian’s voice is an octave higher than it was a second ago, bringing a smile to my lips for what feels like the first time in days.
“And I think you might need to take a break,” I finish for him. “The palace looks so much better.”
“That would be my doing,” Dare says, sweeping into the room, our other three brothers hot on his heels. “And I am exhausted, baby sister. Do you know how much sweeping I’ve done? I’m not meant for hard labour.”
His put-upon expression is so overdone that my smile grows. “How is Yvaine?”
Dare presses his hand to his chest. “What about my welfare?” His swift wink dismisses any concern I may have felt. “She’s better than fine and feels terrible that you met her in such a state. She had an outfit picked out for meeting the new Nicnevin and everything.”
“Your mate is going to kill you for admitting that,” Uther reminds him. “Speaking of mates… I see some things have been made official since we last met.”
It’s disconcerting to have all my brothers suddenly far too interested in the four visible marks on my arms.
“When’s the mating ceremony?” Uther asks, suspiciously lightly.
I roll my eyes at him. “When this is done and my city isn’t in ruins?” I catch sight of Prae trying to drag her mates away, using me as a distraction so they can find a shadowy corner and grin. “Besides, I’m sure Florian is just as eager for his own ceremony. Isn’t that right, big brother?”
The three of them freeze, caught in the act, and our other brothers grin.
“Ah, the trials of being newly mated,” Dare says, locking an arm around Madoc’s neck, then Uther’s, as the three of them stare down Florian. “What was it you called us, big brother? Love-sick cait-shìth?”
“Something like that,” Roark agrees, dodging Dare’s grasping hands.
There’s a pause as Madoc’s brows lower, then Uther’s eyes roll heavenward, praying for patience.
“You sticky dickhead! Undo it!” Madoc growls, and I laugh as Dare steps away to reveal Madoc’s auburn braids stuck to Uther’s black and red tresses.
No wonder Roark dodged.
“Dare,” Uther tries to reason with him. “The Nicnevin is right there.”
