I’m pretty sure Elatha would’ve cut off my hand if he thought it would get rid of the mate bond.
I almost expect Florian to try it then and there, only he doesn’t. The bastard’s eyes switch from angry to calculating in the span of a heartbeat. He looks at the mark for a second longer, then turns his back on me to snap at his toy soldiers.
“Chuck him in the dungeons,”
“And get that iron off him. He reeks of the stuff, and she’s sensitive to it,” Jaromir adds, accepting a pair of trousers from a waiting page.
Thank God. I was about to start feeling insecure if he didn’t put his freakishly large dick away.
Not that I’m small, of course, but Ancestors, he must be part troll. Poor little Rose.
Wait. What does he mean ‘she’s sensitive to it?’ Why the fuck is she more affected by it than normal fae?
Ugh, there’s that possessiveness rearing its ugly head again. For the hundredth time, I shove it off.
Most of the time, the heritage of my mother’s people is easily drowned out by my father’s blood. Tonight, though, it seems to be rearing its ugly head again and again. It’s damned inconvenient to feel unnerved by the thought of harm coming to the woman who should—by all rights—be my mortal enemy.
So why am I suddenly considering getting rid of my armbands for her?
I earned them in trials that almost killed me. I worked my ass off to prove my fae half didn’t make me lesser than my cousins. I shed blood for the damned things. Giving them up because of a woman I’ve met once is rash—even for me.
Oblivious to my internal struggle, Florian strides towards the shifter, grabs his arm, and steers him away from the group. “You and I are going to have a talk, and I want to know everything I should’ve been told by that mad redcap when he first showed up. Are there any more of her Guard left? Does she know—?”
I’m distracted from his questioning as the stony-faced git from earlier takes Florian’s place in front of me, staring me down with those unnerving amber eyes. He obviously expects some kind of reaction from me, but to be honest, once you get past the swirling in the irises, they’re not that special.
Meh, they’re definitely nothing on the dead, black eyes of my father. Just thinking about them makes me shiver.
“Are you going to take the iron off, or do we have to force you?”
I roll my eyes. “Well, that obviously depends…”
He arches one delicate brow in question.
I can’t keep the grin off my face. It’s impossible. “On whether you’re going to ask me nicely.”
The fae scoffs, turning on his heel and striding after the other two, only to pause and glance back at the knights still on either side of me.
“Don’t harm him. We don’t want her wasting her life force healing him.”
Final command given, he strides after the other two.
The púca looks between the two of us, then up at the platforms above. He’s been glancing up at her garden the entire time, and I wonder if he’s lovestruck, or just knows something the rest of them don’t. Maybe it’s both. Still, he must have been paying attention because one of those cat ears was trained on us the whole time.
He strokes the beak of the giant bird beneath his ear and doesn’t even wait for his wings to appear before pouncing into the air, disappearing with a powerful whoosh of air that slams against those close enough, making them stumble.
My gaze falls on the last member of her Guard—the psychotic redcap—only to recoil as I catch sight of his grin and the mouthful of fangs it exposes. His gleeful smile only grows wide as—with his mission to disturb me complete—he disappears.
Leaving me alone with the knights, all of whom look like they expect me to attack at any second.
Nah. I’m going to see how this plays out. After all, I’m closer to her now, even if I am locked down in chains. What better way to learn more about the enemy?
“Well, I think that went well,” I say, watching all of the fae tense. “I really felt welcomed by the family. It was touching, really.”
Most of the time, fae don’t understand sarcasm. They just see it as a different kind of lie. But one of them—a twin, by the looks of it—snorts. His brother elbows him and joins the others in throwing fiery looks my way.
The butt of a sword at my back nudges me forward, and I trudge with the rest of them down into a dungeon that I’ll bet my left nut the innocent little fae queen has never even set foot in.
It’s dry and warm, but those are its only redeeming features. The cells are small, and the place has a musty, decaying smell to it. I get the full tour, which includes all of the torture devices, before I’m shoved against the bars of a cell.