Page 96 of Atop the Faerie Throne
What in the Goddess’s name happened while I was gone?
Actually, I don’t think I want to know.
Kitarni, Gryffin, and Bree appear to have stayed out of their brawl, sagging heavily in their chairs, but Jaro’s wolf clambers to his feet and greets me with a nudge of his nose as I enter. When he does it again, I get the hint, threading my fingers through his fur until the enormous beast rumbles with happiness.
Did he shift out of tiredness or anger? Deciding that it doesn’t really matter, since the argument is clearly long past, I press a kiss to his silky ear.
“Shift back?” I request.
Jaro grunts as his wolf recedes. He leaves my side to grab some clothes, but only after he claims my mouth in a scorching kiss with a mumbled, “Good morning.”
Wraith is asleep by the embers of the fire with his belly in the air, and I cross to pet him while I wait for the silent stand-off between my dullahan and my brother to end.
“We have a proposal,” Drystan finally grates out.
“A temporary one,” Florian adds.
Frowning, I ask, “Where are Caed and Prae?”
“Prae decided her time would be better spent in her workshop, and Caed went to test the waters with the Fomorians,” Jaro says, voice muffled as he drags a shirt over his head. “Or maybe he just wanted to escape the unseelie word games Drystan and Gryffin have been playing.”
Florian bristles, and Kitarni winces.
Oh. So this is one ofthosethings.
Jaro starts up, “The honourable thing to do?—”
“Means shit when Rose’s wellbeing is on the line,” Drystan casually cuts him down.
“Rose, what is Danu’s feeling about the bàsron?” Kitarni asks.
My stomach flip-flops, and I find myself looking down at Wraith for a distraction as I answer, “Dread.”
“If the Goddess is concerned, we should be also,” Bree murmurs, eyeing Florian and Jaro as he says it.
“Then our best option is to follow Caed’s suggestion.” Judging by his expression, it physically pains Drystan to admit that. “We need to cross the Endless Sea and deal with Elatha before he can succeed. To do that, we need ships.”
“And the best place to find them is the Fair Isles.” A pulse of reticence hits me from Bree, and I look up to find he’s manifested the claws of his cat-sìth and is studying them intently with his ears pinned back.
“As far as your bargain with the Fomorians goes, that makes it simple,” Kitarni says. “You simply demand their aid in crossing the Endless Sea and taking Fellgotha. At least one of them must be a navigator, since they made it here.”
“And the scouts say more are coming.” Drystan scowls at the map.
“I’d like to add that they need to help with the repairs to the city,” Florian says. “We can designate this spot”—he points to a spot just inside the south-eastern section of the outer wall—“as a site for a small temporary camp.”
“We can’t leave them in tents,” I object, heart sinking as I remember that child.
“It would only be until autumn, when the rest of the city is rebuilt,” Florian answers curtly. “We can’t prioritise them over our own people. Besides, it’s a damned sight more than they would give us if the roles were reversed.”
“There’s also a good chance that some of them won’t stay there,” Jaro points out. “Danu was open about her plan for more matings between the fae and Fomorians. Some fae will be more curious than hostile.”
“Once the city is secure, we’ll see about creating them homes. They might go back to their dank little mountain if we’re lucky.” Drystan waves the issue off. “Now, back to the ships. Have you had any further thoughts about how we’re going to take down Eero?”
Swallowing, I roll back the city map to look at the one of Faerie beneath.
Siabetha stares back accusingly.
Going there again fills me with trepidation and anger. Máel may be dead, but it’s still the city where I lost my brother. Where Bram’s murderer lives in complete impunity, spouting blasphemy, making deals with the enemy, and sheltering Bree’s toxic father.
