Page 151 of Beyond the Faerie Gate

Beyond the filmy fabric, Rose’s bedchamber is just as lavish as I expected. Overtaken by greenery—as everything is in this fucking place—but somehow more beautiful and ethereal for it.

Prae heads straight for the silken sheets and plops herself right in the middle, rumpling them.

“It’s settled,” she announces. “I’m switching places with her. I can never go back to furs and a stone bed again.”

“There’s a tiny problem,” I retort. “You’re not her.”

“You’re blue,” Gron points out, in a way that makes it clear he thinks he’s being helpful.

He shuts up as soon as Prae and I shoot him matching annoyed looks.

“Are you sure we shouldn’t wait?” she demands. “It would be an easy job. Snatch her before she’s about to lie on her too soft pillows.” She flicks one of the tasselled cushions in mock disgust.

“I said no,” I growl.

SNAP.

As one, every Fomorian face turns to the sound. It came from the clump of trees just behind the bedchamber. My swords appear in the air behind me, forming a protective halo as Prae jerks her head to Aron and Gron.

The two of them lower the metal poles they’re holding, placing them on the stone as quietly as possible, before moving in the direction of the noise, drawing their battle axes as they go.

Considering their hulking size, I’m always surprised by how fast they can move.

They disappear down the small, winding path.

A minute passes. Two.

They don’t remerge.

Shit.

I flick my hand towards Prae and gesture her over to the metal wings.

“Get out of here,” I mouth.

She draws the sword strapped along her spine instead, retreating toward me, instead of her escape.

“You think I want to be beheaded for failing to get you out of here?” she demands in a whisper, taking up a defensive stance on my right—my weakest side. “We leave together or not at all.”

The bush moves, and both of us tense.

The figure that moves out from the small pathway is bulky, but it’s not Aron or Gron.

The damned knight commander emerges, with blood on his tunic, clutching a Fomorian axe in each hand. His hands are blistering from the iron, but he doesn’t pay it any attention as he stares me down.

Prae clutches her own blade tighter. “Prince Florian.” She offers him a mocking little curtsy. “Imagine seeing you haunting your queen’s rooms at Samhain.”

There’s a heartbeat of silence where the knight commander’s eyes leave mine and fix on my cousin. The hatred burning in them turns to something akin to regret before flicking back to anger.

“Princess Praedra,” he inclines his head. “I should’ve guessed you’d be the one to break the blabbermouth out of his cell.”

“Let us leave, Commander,” I warn. “I don’t particularly want the hassle of killing you, and you don’t want to risk hurting me, do you?”

Prae looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “Take him out and the queendom crumbles,” she murmurs. “Think of it, Caed. There’s no one else who can lead all those armies into battle.”

“For once in your life, follow my orders and get your ass in the air,” I snarl, shoving her backwards.

“Too late for that,” Florian growls. “My guards are on their way to escort you back downstairs. Permanently. They’ll have the skies covered.”

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