Page 63 of Beyond the Faerie Gate

His disorientation gives me a second to check on our Nicnevin.

Drystan reaches out to Rose, and I drop my shield to allow him to yank her out of the way. He pulls her against the wall and traps her there with his arms.

“You never get in between fighting males,” he growls.

I don’t get a chance to hear her response, because Lorcan is stirring. I bend down and snap at his legs, forcing him to blink again.

But this time, I’m ready for his tricks. I whirl behind me and paw his sword out of the way, flattening him to the ground and snapping my jaws towards his throat before he can react.

Lorcan just grins. “Bad puppy.”

That’s when I realise there’s a blade against my gut and another at my throat.

He’s got knives tucked into his boots?

“Enough,” Drystan says, eliciting a growl from me and a sigh of disappointment from the redcap. “We should be leaving for Siabetha, not squabbling like children.”

He’s right, but it doesn’t stop me from wishing he wasn’t. I shift back, glaring at the redcap.

“Fine.” I head for the door, trying not to preen as Rose’s eyes darken at the sight of my bare ass. “I’ll meet you at the stable.” I was ready to leave before I shifted and shredded my clothes.

Rhoswyn

The first thing which hits me is the heat. A sticky, humid warmth, undercut by the fresh salty sea air. Lore has blinked us and the horses, one by one, onto a deserted beach, and the breeze is heavy with the scent of flowers and sunshine.

I’m the last to arrive, and when I reopen my eyes, I find myself sitting on the back of Blizzard. I don’t remember if I was ever consulted about riding with Drystan again, but Lore has paired us together, so I hastily grab his belt and don’t argue.

Perhaps the redcap is simply doing his best to aggravate the Winter Court fae.

The horses seem to like our new location. They stomp at the immaculate white sand, and Jaromir’s mare actually takes a few wandering steps towards the water before he nudges it back to us with the reins.

My father took me to the sea once. It was brown and grey and cold, and it stank of kelp and fish. This endless sapphire blue ocean is so different it’s laughable.

The leather trousers and loose flowing tunic Kitarni helped me pick for the ride are uncomfortably warm, and I shove my sleeves up to my elbows as I bask in the sun’s heat.

“The city is up there,” Drystan notes, dragging my attention from the turquoise waves up to the city sprawled over the beige cliffs above.

Siabetha is fantastical. Built across an immense rock arch which connects the mainland to a huge island. Every building in the city seems to be painted white, and they’re built right up to the edge of the arch—some even cascade over the edge of the cliff until it seems they’re a hairsbreadth away from plunging into the water.

Right in the centre, walled off from the rest, is the gleaming palace of marble, crowned with spires of coloured glass and gold.

“Some stupidly romantic fae call it the Archway of the Sun,” he continues, spurring his horse forward. “Just because you can watch the sun rise and set through the arch.”

That sounds… beautiful.

How can he be so cynical about something so lovely?

I turn to Jaromir, grinning. “I’d like to see that, if we get the chance.”

“We’ll make time,” he promises.

The trek up into the city is slow, partly because I keep twisting in the saddle, trying to see everything. Eventually, Kitarni asks my permission to ride ahead to the temple, and—after getting over my shock at being asked permission to do anything—I agree, leaving me and my males alone.

The houses we pass become larger as we move closer. Unlike Iondell, Siabetha has no wall, and without that restriction, it spills out into the land around the arch. People don’t pay us any attention as we meander through the streets and up into the city proper. We pass multiple markets, each one selling exotic fruits I’ve never seen before. Then there are the shops with their brightly painted fronts and immaculate displays.

I want to go into every one, just to see what it’s like.

“We should be hurrying,” Drystan complains.

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