Page 127 of Atop the Faerie Throne
“Where’s Drystan?” he asks, voice rough.
The reminder stills me, and I struggle to sort through the bleary thoughts to figure that out for myself. His bond seems quiet. Relieved, but also fraught.
My wolf shifter’s breath hisses out, and he leaves the bed, pacing away from me.
“Jaro?” I ask, my voice small. “What… what did Drystan do?”
Because he’s definitely done something. He drew all of that power, experienced such pain that it resonated between us… and then this happened. That’s not a coincidence.
My wolf strokes the back of his neck. “I’m not exactly sure,” he confesses. “But he left the day after Beltaine. He was in such a rush that he revealed to the entire palace that the Lord of the Wild Hunt is a dullahan and a member of your Guard.”
I shake my head in disbelief. Drystan went to great lengths to keep both of those things private. What could’ve possessed him to act so rashly?
“He took what happened hard,” Bree murmurs, reading the confusion on my face. “He blamed himself.”
“I had plans to torture him for the rest of our lives.” Lore shrugs. “Does this mean I don’t get to do that?”
Jaro sighs. “I believe he considers spending eternity dealing with you torment enough.”
Whatever relief I felt evaporates, and I shove out of bed. I can’t gain one mate only to lose another, but Bree catches my hand.
“Does he feel like he needs our help?” he asks solemnly.
I shake my head. “He’s on his way back… I think.”
The púca nods. “Then he’d probably prefer it if you rested and ate something. You’ve been through an ordeal.”
I blow out an aggravated breath. “Something happened.”
“He’ll be back to boss us all around before we know it,” Jaro reassures me. “Besides, this morning Florian sent word that the Summer Court ships have reached the northern shore. You need to make the most of a real bed while you can.”
Forty-One
Rhoswyn
Disquiet lingers in my veins, but I try my best to quash it as I fly down from my garden room with Bree at my side. Drystan has been drawing closer ever since the bond reformed three days ago, slowly but surely returning.
I missed him.
I’ve never insisted on all of my Guard sleeping in the massive bed in my garden before, but I have ever since Beltaine. Realising how fragile the bonds in my chest really are was awful, and I still wake multiple times each night just to check they’re all there.
Even Bree has stayed, though he confines himself to the end of the bed, so as to avoid even accidentally touching the others. I woke this morning with his hand wound around my ankle, Caed twined around my back, and Lore pressed against my front. Jaro took fur some time in the night and splayed out on the rug-covered floor with Wraith, the two of them deliberately placed between the rest of us and the top of the stairs.
I’m reluctant to leave any of them, and I don’t see that changing for a while. The only reason I let Bree cajole me into flying down was because they promised to meet me in the courtyard, and I desperately wanted to stretch my wings.
It’s a good day for it too. The sun is warm on my bare back as we meander down.
“Do you think…” I begin, then trail off. “Do you think Caed will ever rejoin the Guard?”
Bree is silent for a long glide. “No one has ever been removed before. It’s hard to say.”
Not the answer I wanted, but I suspected as much.
The restoration of our mating bond is a poignant victory. We’re poised on the edge of a battle unlike any the fae have fought before, and Caed is no longer immortal. I can’t heal him without Titania’s help or send him my magic.
I know better than to suggest leaving him behind when we sail to Fellgotha, but I wish I could.
A hooded figure gallops through the gate, and my wing beats stutter a little in relief as I recognise the black stallion. Before Bree or anyone else can stop me, I dive sharply, heading for the courtyard with a huge grin on my face.
