Page 105 of Beyond the Faerie Gate

Caed

Scaling the walls of Elfhame was sickeningly easy. They didn’t expect a Fomorian to have glamour, and it showed. Father won’t be happy about it when he finds out. He’ll be even less impressed that I stooped to using fae trickery to secure the queen, but he’ll come around when I bring her back with me.

The only downside to my plan is that technically, I have no plan.

Right now, I’m winging it.

Later, when questioned, I’ll say something grand like I wanted the glory for myself. Anything except the truth: that her damned hold on me tightened like a vice around my soul, and I physically couldn’t keep myself away.

When I dropped over the final wall of the fae stronghold and landed straight next to her, completely undefended, I thanked the Ancestors for my good luck. Then I saw the blood.

And her tears.

My distraction cost me. Fuck, I could’ve gotten out of there with her, and they wouldn’t’ve been any the wiser.

Now, as I’m led directly into the bowels of the palace by a host of pretentious knights, I can’t help but wonder who put her in such a state.

I glance upward at the uppermost platform in the sky, wondering if she’s watching, only to have my head roughly forced downward by a fae hand.

“You don’t even get to look in her direction.”

I remember the dark knight from the cave where we swore our oaths, but the years haven’t improved his haughty scowl. Not that any of them look particularly impressed to see me. They could probably give my father’s court a run for their money in the gloomy looks department.

Our jolly little procession is disrupted when the enormous valravn returns, landing on the arm of the skinny male with feline ears with an ear-piercing squawk that damn near breaks my ear drums.

The púca stares into the bird’s eyes for a long moment before announcing. “He’s alone.”

Well, there goes threatening them with my non-existent backup. Prae will shank me for this one.

“What is the meaning of this?” The silver-haired knight commander is in fine raging form. I’ve seen him on the ramparts before—pacing like a hulking bear amongst his troops—and he’s even larger in person.

The bigger they are, the more glorious their defeat.

“I take it no one mentioned I was part of her Guard to our new brother-in-law?” I can’t resist poking the fae. Not when their reactions are so brilliant.

Gotta love the over-developed territorial instincts of fae males. It has entertainment value, if nothing else.

“Jaromir,” Florian growls, not taking his eyes off me for a second. “Tell me he’s lying.”

The sheer amount of distaste he puts in that last word makes me grin. Ancestors, it must grate on them that their mortal enemies can lie and they can’t.

“Unfortunately,” the still-nude shifter—who must be Jaromir—replies. “He's speaking the truth.”

My bad. I’m going to have to make sure to slip some lies in there later. Just to mess with them. Most fae can sense any untruths, which is no fun. But still, anything that pisses off a fae is worth it.

The curses which escape my mate’s brother could make even my cousin blush. In one great bounding step, the knight commander places his bulky self in front of me.

His eyes—nothing like her violet ones—search over every inch of me, lingering on the steel and iron bands around my arms, and on the scars across my skin. The funny thing is, more of those wounds came from my fellow Fomorians than the fae we’re at war with. We’re a savage bunch.

“There is no way the Goddess would sanction this,” he grunts, almost to himself.

So I do the one thing guaranteed to ruffle his feathers even further.

I hold up my hand.

Rose’s mark on my skin is mangled, but still clear as day. If my father hadn’t tried to burn it from my flesh, perhaps it would be just as perfect and unblemished as she is.

Unfortunately, as teenage rebellions go, mine was rather… extreme. Promising my twelve-year-old self to the infant queen of the enemy in order to prevent the arranged bonding my father had planned for me did not go down well.

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