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Eochaid brightened a little as an idea seemed to occur to him.‘The castle would make an excellent venue for other celebrations, don’t you think?Other festivities.’

My gaze roamed the dirty great holes in the roof, the vines dangling above our heads as Eochaid pushed the subject of other ‘visiting’.

‘It would be appropriate for certain type of festivities.It isn’t being used the way it should be, but I can see a future where it would be better utilised,’ Solas drawled, making Eochaid beam, unaware the Seelie King was toying with him.‘You know, if you keep it ready and waiting in preparation for a return, I could find some use for this place in future.Now, can we sign this amendment before my friend here changes his mind?’

Eochaid turned to bustle about a small chest, humming to himself as he unstopped a vile full of thick, dark red.Solas had turned away to speak with one of his advisors.

‘Don’t stock your storerooms,’ I said to Eochaid in a low voice when he turned back, holding the same goblet from the bloodletting, its original contents returned to it, now thicker and darker with age.

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘He’s not going to visit again anytime soon.He’s just an asshole.’

Eochaid’s face fell.I didn’t know why I cared if Solas made sport of him.Perhaps I was overly aware of the cruelty of disappointed hope.

A quill of white bone was produced, rumoured to be from the shinbone of Oberon himself, ready to inscribe runes written in the blood of all those in attendance.

The wind picked up and the light of the torches fringing the room flickered.A rushing seemed to carry through the air, edged in a sound that might have been the creaking of a rusted door hinge or might have been a distance screech.No one else reacted, conversations continuing, Eochaid fiddling with his quill, but every cell in my body was suddenly on high alert, magic stirring.The torches seemed to flare brighter, larger instead of being cowed by the wind.

Something was wrong.

Instinctively, I looked around for Imogen.She was here somewhere, but out of my line of sight.Ves was nearby, though, and he caught my eye as I poised on the balls of my feet, ready to move, undecided if there was any need.He approached me.

‘Ah, I see you’re not making it easy after all.You want Solas to chase—’

‘Shh,’ I hissed, cutting him off, turning my head to listen.

‘What’s wrong?’Ves said, all carelessness falling away.

‘I’m not sure.Something on the wind.Have you seen Imogen?’

Ves rolled his eyes.‘How did I know that’d be the next—’

His words were cut by a piercing shriek.

Torchlight flared, a dozen infernos ringing the room.The crumbling voids in the ceiling were suddenly choked with leathery wings.I was already running, barely taking in the creatures they were attached to, only catching gnarled limbs, masses of scaly hair and eyes burning like twin pits of flame.

Furies.

Courtiers were running, screaming as the furies dived into the throne room, taloned hands extended, pealing those ear-splitting screams.I clapped hands over my ears as I ran, trying to block them out.A fury’s shriek could drive you mad, and I had no intention of losing my senses.

I jumped over someone already writhing on the floor, clawing their face bloody.I had to narrow my focus, keep my thoughts from following the deafening sound down the path to insanity.The panic in everyone around me would only make it easier for it to take hold.The creatures dove at the fleeing crowd, clawing at hair and faces and eyes.Magic crackled in my veins.I could loose it at a close one, minimise the risk of hitting someone I shouldn’t.But before I could, a Seelie lord before me raised his hands as though to wield and was blasted over my head, body smacking against Oberon’s throne.

The fucking blood oath.Noneof us could use magic.Sliding to a stop, I pivoted, vaulting back the way I’d come.Wind buffeted me, and I was fighting against the beat of wings, ducking low to try to avoid the talons as the fury descending clawed at any part of me she could reach.Pain raked my scalp, my neck, my arms, but I twisted free, only stumbling in my race to the foot of the ancient throne.

Skidding to a halt, I found Eochaid crouched beneath the rim of the dais, arms cradling his head.

‘The oath!’I demanded, panting.

He blinked at me in confusion.

‘We can’t fight!Give me the chalice!’

He shook his head rigorously.‘You can’t—’

I snatched at his robe, yanked him forwards.‘Do you want to protect your traditions or your life?’

We both ducked as a shrieking fury dived past the throne, chasing down its prey.Eochaid’s lip trembled as he watched the chase, before his gaze flicked back to me.‘Alright.Take it.’