Page 70 of Beyond the Faerie Gate

Drystan

King Eero is perhaps my least favourite royal of all time. Even Cedwyn has some redeeming features—and he certainly wouldn’t demean himself by storming his city’s temple in a rage—but the same cannot be said of the Summer King.

In all honesty, I’m surprised it took him so long to arrive. After the standoff between the city guard and Jaro, and our subsequent hasty retreat to the temple, I anticipated he’d be at the doors within the hour. Instead, we received and ignored no less than three separate summons from his Knights before the summer king rode down here on his white horse to demand an audience with Rose.

Right now, the raging dark-skinned seelie is pacing in front of the three dozen men he’s brought with him. His fists are clenched by his sides, and his muscles are so tense it’s a miracle they haven’t burst. He’s a big man, and he’s chosen to wear his golden armour as a show of strength, which makes him appear to glow in the sunlight streaming through the temple courtyard.

Kitarni, however, is handling the monarch like a pro. The dryad is wearing the robes of a high priestess, showcasing the mark on her chest to its best advantage as she stands beneath the amorphous fountain, which is somehow supposed to represent Danu pouring life into Faerie.

“Your Highness,” she insists, her tone calm despite the small army standing in front of her. “The Nicnevin may or may not choose to receive you for an audience when she has recovered. You may wait here, without your army, or await news of her decision back at the Summer Palace. The choice is up to you. Regardless, if you threaten me or my priests again, I will ask the Temple Guard to remove you, by force if necessary.”

It’s not an idle threat. Most court armies are highly trained, but the Temple Guard is so elite they’re considered on par with the knights of Elfhame.

“This Nicnevin is a menace,” Eero growls, glaring at the door I’m guarding with barely disguised loathing. “What excuse does she have for burning the oldest pleasure house in Faerie to the ground?”

“As per the law, the Nicnevin—and all other fae—are permitted to challenge those who would seek to try to keep them from their mates. The Toxic Orchid was holding a member of her Guard as a slave. I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that it is also against our laws to hold either the Nicnevin or her Guard against their will.”

“The man you’re claiming as her Guard is under fae!”

“This Nicnevin has called two under fae into her Guard.” Kitarni isn’t even raising her voice. Impressive. Even my ice cold bitch of a mother would have trouble maintaining her composure in the face of the angry summer king. “Now, I understand that you’re emotional, but your continued rudeness will not stand. For the last time, leave my temple.”

I want to laugh at the outrage on Eero’s face at being called emotional. Usually the Summer King is a suave, sneaky bastard—for a seelie.

There’s a long, strained silence, where Eero’s golden eyes flick over the dryad, trying to find a weak point he can exploit. Behind him, his men shift uneasily. They don’t want to fight the Temple Guard. They certainly don’t want to piss off the Nicnevin they’ve been thanking Danu for returning to them for the last week.

Finally Eero’s posture relaxes, some of his slick charm returning. “My apologies, Your Worship.” The bow he gives her is the shallowest he can get away with—a subtle insult which makes my hackles rise in anger. “Please, I would be grateful if you’d extend an invitation to feast with me to the new Nicnevin and her unconventional Guard.”

“After her coronation, she will visit all four courts, as custom dictates,” Kitarni says, not taking any of his bullshit. “And she will start with the Spring Court, as is traditional.”

I don’t trust the flicker of rage behind his expression as he half-bows again. “Nevertheless, it would be an honour to host Her Majesty for dinner.” He pauses, sparing an ill-tempered glance at the temple priests who are shrinking back against the walls behind the Temple Guard. “My apologies for distressing the peaceful servants of Danu.”

Without another word, he turns on his heel and strides through the lines of his assembled soldiers without a backward glance. The army makes hasty bows to Kitarni and marches after their king.

Only when the temple doors have closed behind him does the dryad allow her posture to slump.

“There goes keeping her return quiet until she’s safely in Elfhame,” she mutters, accepting a glass of fae wine from one of the waiting attendants.

She downs the alcohol in one long swig.

My own anger seethes in my gut at the mention of Rose’s spectacular introduction to the realm. Lorcan should’ve stopped her. She should’ve let Jaro and me handle it. We were just about to strike a bargain with the madam for his freedom when Lorcan blinked us out of there.

He blinked us all the way back to the beach where we first arrived, and then left us to run the entire way back, only to find the brothel on fire and Rose…

Looking like a Goddess. Her aura was glowing so fiercely I couldn’t even look at her. It even shone through my eyelids.

The migraine still hasn’t dissipated.

“Eyewitnesses say she shot lightning from her fingertips, then used incredible strength to break open doors.” Kitarni is almost speaking to herself.

“Those are her gifts, then?” I stare at the skull and rose on my hand, trying to make the two things fit with the image.

“They also say she healed her final Guard.”

I shake my head. “Not possible. No Nicnevin has ever had three gifts before.”

Kitarni looks at me and shakes her head. “When I spoke to Rose, she told me she’s been seeing people. Females who aren’t there.”

I stiffen. “What are you saying, High Priestess?”

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