Page 126 of Beyond the Faerie Gate

If I left them alone, would they talk each other to death? Or just get violent?

“Did you come down here to interrogate him?” I ask Lore, rubbing the back of my neck.

Goddess help us if the redcap is hoping to be put in charge of extracting information.

“No, I blinked to you. Kitarni wants Drystan to tell Rose about the Wild Hunt, but he won’t. So I thought I’d bring you as a consolation prize. You’re taller and almost as grouchy.”

“No one is that grouchy,” I mutter, before realising that there is one other person as grim and serious as Drystan.

Florian. And he will only be in a worse mood if I can’t get anything out of Caed.

Damn it. This is literally my one chance to be holed up in a room with Rose for what could be hours, and I’m going to have to waste it talking in circles with Caed.

“Tell Drystan to get off his high horse and help,” I grumble. “Samhain is tomorrow. Unless he wants Rose to accidentally break sacred tradition on her first hunt, he needs to suck up his pride and help her.”

Lore blinks up onto the table behind me, tip-toeing along one edge with his arms out on either side as he balances his knife on his nose. “She doesn’t want his help. She said so. But she wouldn’t let me stab him either…”

“Trouble in paradise?” Caed remarks dryly, reminding both of us of his presence.

“That’s none of your concern, Fomorian,” I retort. “Unless you’re going to tell us how you got over the damned wall.”

“I asked very nicely, and it moved out of my way.”

I hiss out a breath at yet another lie and massage the back of my neck as I review every possible way I could torture the bastard, and then toss it aside.

At this rate, I’ll have to find a non-physical torture to extract information. Maybe I should find a musician who specialises in annoying, repetitive tunes and pay him to play non-stop until Caed begs to tell us the truth.

Caed is the kind of annoying prick who probably enjoys that kind of thing.

“I’m bored,” Lore announces, flicking his dagger over his head and catching it behind his back with one hand. “I’m going to find Rose and see if she’ll play hooky with me. Have fun, you two.”

He blinks from the room with a mock salute in my direction, and I have to work hard to suppress my groan.

“I’m almost glad I’m stuck behind these bars,” Caed gloats. “It seems like a madhouse out there.”

He doesn’t know the half of it.

“You’re not a fool,” I snap. “You either rot in here—which is looking likely at the moment—or you answer my questions and work on proving your trustworthiness to the Nicnevin.”

He snorts. “I won’t rot in here, seelie.”

“No. Because if the nobles get wind of your being here and manage to cause enough of an uproar, Rose won’t be able to save you. She’ll be forced to reject you, and your head will be mounted on a pike beyond the outer wall in full view of your army.”

Finally. Something I’ve said gets to him. His turquoise eyes flash with a deadly glint, and before I can track his movement, he’s pressed up against the bars, staring me down.

“There will be no rejecting anyone,” he hisses. “I thought you fae thought your perfect little Goddess was infallible? Remind your prissy little nobles that she chose me, even if they can’t wrap their little heads around her reasoning. That makes Rose as much mine as she is yours.”

So he’s just as possessive as a fae. Interesting.

“I can’t imagine Rose will be hard to convince,” I continue, as if he hasn’t spoken. “After all, you ordered her first death. Do you know how painful it is to die from a crossbow bolt? She was alone and terrified.”

My voice is a snarl, my wolf pressing against the inside of my skin. I meant to enrage the Fomorian, but instead, I seem to have triggered my own lingering anger.

I could’ve forgiven a lot.

Getting Rose killed isn’t one of them.

“You want me to talk?” Caed growls, knuckles white as he tries to crush the bars. “Bring her down here and let me talk to her.”

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