Page 89 of Atop the Faerie Throne
“I don’t think this is another invasion.” I shift her weight so I can run my fingers over Lox’s beak.
My eyesight sharpens, bringing the white-haired, blue-skinned crowd into sharp relief. I’m so used to them wielding crossbows and spears, wearing their war paint and armour, that it takes me a half-second to process what I’m actually seeing.
They look… broken.
My grip on my mate tightens, but it’s no use. I know what she’ll say, even before the glamour trickles over her ruined clothes, turning them to armour.
“Take me down there.”
Twenty-Nine
Rhoswyn
“Are you sure, dragonfly?” Bree asks, his wings beating powerfully as he effortlessly holds us both high above the Fomorians
“Mab, could you find out what we’re up against?” I ask.
My grandmother appears and plummets from the sky without hesitation, landing straight in the middle of the crowd while they’re blissfully unaware of the spy in their midst. A tense few seconds pass, during which time Bree glamours and lowers us, albeit grudgingly, to the grass a few dozen feet away.
I understand his wanting to be invisible, but evidently whatever he did only hid us from the Fomorians.
Even from here, I can hear the panicked voices on the wall rising. A glance over my shoulder shows bows being lowered and fingers pointed in our direction.
Wonderful. No doubt. Jaro, Drystan, and Florian will be here shortly.
I don’t get a chance to mention that I was hoping to delay Drystan’s censure untilafterI’d spoken with the Fomorians,because Mab returns, shaking her head like she can’t quite believe what she’s seen. I give her a little drop of power, giving her a physical form so that Bree can hear what she has to say. I summon my other guides as an afterthought, just in case we need backup.
“Is it time to kick more blue ass?” Maeve cracks her knuckles. “Or are we going to sit back and let her Guard prove they’re more than just pretty faces this time?”
Titania swats lightly at her daughter’s arm. “Be serious. If this is a second invasion so soon after the first?—”
“It’s not,” Mab cuts in. “They’re refugees. They don’t even have weapons.”
The silence that falls between the five of us is absolute.
“Refugees?” Bree repeats, slowly. “Fomorianrefugees. How is that possible?”
“I don’t know, but I couldn’t see a drop of iron on any of them.” Mab shrugs, her forehead crinkling.
We might be confused, but Danu is restless beneath my skin, and before I know it, I’m taking my first step towards the group.
“You weren’t going to slaughter them without me, were you, pet?” Lore blinks into my path before I can take another. “Remember, the couple that slays together stays together!”
“They’re refugees.”
“Wouldn’t matter to them if the roles were reversed,” Maeve grumbles. “They’d have slaughtered any fae who asked them for help and laughed while they arranged their heads on pikes.”
“Excellent. The stabby queen agrees.” Lore has already palmed a dagger, and I reach out to grab the sleeve of his cream leather jacket before he can do anything rash.
“They’rerefugees,” I repeat, my tone hardening. “No one is killing anyone until we hear what they have to say.”
Lore’s disappointment hits me down the bond as his shoulders slump and his lips turn pouty.
“Drystan will have an aneurysm if you invite more Fomorians into Elfhame City,” Bree murmurs, his ears both trained on the group.
Perhaps he’s right, but Danu’s words from Prae’s mating ceremony weigh heavily on my mind, alongside Caed’s words about what a world free from Elatha could look like. If we continue shunning each other, then there will just be another war in another few centuries.
“I said I want to listen. I never said I was inviting them inside.”
