Page 75 of Beyond the Faerie Gate

I check quickly, even though they normally would’ve made themselves known by now. When I’m certain we’re alone, I shake my head. “No.”

He leans forward. “Can you call them?”

Does he want me to?

I’m drained, more so than I ever remember feeling, and for some reason, the thought of summoning my guides is exhausting.

“Sometimes,” I hedge. “They don’t always come.”

Maybe Kitarni can sense my reticence, because she nods. “There’s no rush. If you’re feeling drained, it can wait until we’re in Elfhame.”

“Elfhame?” I blink at the sudden change of topic. “We’re leaving?”

Drystan glowers at the dryad, but answers me anyway. “It isn’t wise to stay in the Summer Court now that you’ve refused the King his audience. It’ll be considered favouritism. Especially by the more fickle royals.”

That makes sense.

“When Lorcan returns, he can blink us straight past the walls. He’s been to the city before—although it might have changed a little since the days of his youth—so I sent him to scout it and make sure it’s safe enough for you to return.”

That’s the second time she’s mentioned his age. Just how old is the redcap? He doesn’t look a day over thirty.

Drystan hisses before I can voice the question. “So that’s where he’s been this whole time? And safe enough? The entire city is under siege. Has been for months. By what definition is that safe?”

“Exactly. Elfhame City is one of the best defended places in the realm. The palace is even more so. The Fomorians could lay siege to it for decades and get nowhere, and Elfhame has the springs and farms to outlast them even if they did.”

“The city may be self-sufficient and well defended,” Drystan argues. “But the moment Caed senses that she’s inside the palace, they’re going to double their efforts to breach the walls.”

“Regardless, they only need to stand long enough for the Nicnevin to be crowned. As soon as she’s proclaimed High Queen and collects the pledges of allegiance from the minor royals, their courts will be forced to join the conflict.”

They might as well be speaking a different language for how much sense they’re making right now.

“That’s your plan? Stick a crown on her head and use it to force the four armies to fight together under her banner? Ballsy move, High Priestess.”

Kitarni waves him off. “Florian has the ability to win this war. He’s a brilliant strategist, and an unparalleled soldier. He just needs enough soldiers to drive the Fomorians out of Elfhame. Once that’s done, we can turn our focus to sending them back across the Endless Sea.”

“Am I—” I cut off as they both jerk their heads towards me, as if they’re just remembering I’m here.

“What is it?” Kitarni encourages. “Speak your mind. We were wrong to talk over you. I apologise.”

The question seems silly now, but I can’t think of a better one. “It’s just… clearly, I can… do things.” I wave a hand in the air, trying to say ‘shoot massive bolts of lightning’ without actually saying it because it just seems too much to admit to. “Should I help? Will my brother want me to fight?”

I did just bring down a building… Maybe that’s what will be expected of me now. I imagine it’s a useful skill when fighting a war… though I wouldn’t really know…

Kitarni takes one of my hands and stares at me for so long that it’s uncomfortable. “There are two types of Nicnevin,” she begins. “Ones like your mother and the second Nicnevin, who were born diplomats. They used gifts like healing and foresight to create incredible eras of peace and prosperity, using their wit and a quieter kind of strength.”

That doesn’t sound so bad. In fact, it sounds nice. Ruling a peaceful kingdom and negotiating through problems.

“Then there are the others. The first and third Nicnevins were incredible warriors. They both forced the Fomorians into a retreat and left our realm stronger and better defended when they passed it down to their daughters.”

I want to scoff, because as epic as being a warrior queen sounds, I’m no fighter. If anything, I should probably choose to be one of the peaceful Nicnevins.

“Danu has already decided which one you are destined to become,” Kitarni says, silencing my thoughts. “She has given you the strength and skill-set you need to face the challenges before you. You will grow into whichever path the Goddess has chosen. So don’t waste time panicking about whether someone ‘wants’ you to fight. If you are meant to win this from the front lines, then it will be so.”

I gulp. Kitarni’s faith in me is absolute, inspiring, and more than a little intimidating. But I can’t help but think she’s skipping a lot of eventualities. Chiefly, the ones where we might fail.

A knock on the door stops me, and Drystan opens it, returning with a large clay pitcher of water, which he hands to me like I’m supposed to know what to do with it.

I stare at Kitarni, silently begging her for instructions, but she doesn’t give me them. Oh, right. Because this is supposed to be instinctive.

The water is heavy, so I balance it on the mattress, cradling it with both hands as I stare into it. The priests in Nopchurch used to bless water all the time. Holy water was made just by sprinkling salt and prayers over it.

No one has handed me any salt, and I’m not sure hail Marys will have the effect they’re looking for.

“I have no idea what I’m doing,” I admit, under my breath. “But if blessing this water can help someone, or bring some hope, then I bless it.”

No one is more surprised than I am when the surface of the pitcher flashes with iridescent light. For a second, it looks like the glowing water in the Cave of Danu, but it’s gone before I can blink.

Kitarni beams at me, and it’s distracting enough that I almost miss Drystan’s soft huff of disbelief.

“Perfect.” The dryad takes the pitcher and carries it with ease back to the door, which Drystan opens for her. “Now, let’s go home, shall we?”

---