Page 20

Nineteen

Rhoswyn

W e reappear in the Court of Blades, and I heave a sigh of relief.

I’ve never been as grateful for Lore’s magic as I am when it spares me from having to walk past whoever just watched us fuck in a puddle of blood and ash.

“Wimpiwort, a bath!” Lore yells, apparently assuming that the poor fae will hear him despite us being alone in his bedchamber. He pauses, and I chuckle as I watch him realise that the other redcap is probably in Elfhame with the rest of them.

“Be right back!” he says. “I’m sure someone somewhere is having a bath.”

He disappears, and I hug his poncho around me as I try to come to terms with what just happened.

I came— multiple times —in front of five armies, while people died all around me. My body is trembling with aftershocks of remembered pleasure. My knees are weak, and my toes are a little numb, but my arms are covered in blood. I use the edge of Lore’s cap-poncho to wipe detachedly at the stains on my hands.

My mate was undoubtedly messier than me, but I think there’s some in my hair that his cap didn’t catch, and?—

“Ta-da!” Lore calls, blinking into the room alongside a huge wooden tub full of steaming water with rose petals scattered over the milky surface.

“Whose bath is this?” I ask, tracing the ornate whirls painted along the sides with confusion.

Lore shrugs. “They hadn’t gotten in yet, if that helps.”

It does. The water smells heavenly, and I quickly slip free of my boots and torn leggings, then the poncho and my top.

Oooh, thank the Goddess.

The bath is steaming, and the heat instantly gets to work on the tension in my muscles as I submerge.

“Are you joining me?” I ask.

He doesn’t answer, and I search for him, only to find he’s crouched on the seat of the armchair in the corner, his red eyes unfocused and levelled at the place where my breasts disappear under the water.

“Lore!” I flick droplets at him, and he sighs, shaking his head as if to clear it.

“What? Sorry, your tits were distracting me.”

“I asked if you’re joining me.”

He looks down at his blood-and-dust-splattered clothes, then back at me like I’m the mad one here. The golden morning sunlight streaming through the window reflects rainbows where it catches the glitter my wings have left on him, and my cheeks heat again as I realise just how covered in the stuff he is.

“Why would I wash off all of this blood and your lovely dust? I worked so hard for this!”

Of course. Why would I expect anything else? I sink lower in the water as he disappears again—probably off to steal some poor fae’s towels next.

How do I face anyone after that?

Hundreds of fae just saw me fuck Lore, and I was into it. I’m not sure whether to be more embarrassed by my sex being on display, my orgasm face, or the fact that, if Lore asks to do it again, I want to say yes.

“You’re overthinking,” Titania tells me, popping into being beside me as I soak. “How did Aiyana react after you watched her being serviced by her harem?”

Completely unperturbed. As if she’d been doing something so banal, it wasn’t worth mentioning. “You think I should just pretend it didn’t happen?”

“I think,” Titania says, “that you’re questioning this as a result of your mortal upbringing.”

“I’m not questioning it.” I cross my arms churlishly. “I wanted it. I enjoyed it.”

“But are you ashamed of it?”

My throat seals up, and my grandmother pets my head soothingly, her ghostly hand evoking a chill across my scalp.

“Shame sometimes exists to teach us about our own limits,” Titania murmurs. “Is this one? Be honest with yourself. Would you do it again?”

“Yes.” It’s not even a thought. “I trusted Lore, and he kept me safe. I just… I worry that my other mates will…” I don’t know how to finish, but I swallow the anxiety pooling in my chest and continue. “I could take the judgement of the minor royals—probably—but if any of my Guard looks at me like what we just did was dirty or immoral or wrong…”

I can feel their concern for me down the bond, and the more I focus on it, the more comforting it becomes. Lore is preening like a hyperactive peacock, practically buzzing with excitement and more than a little cocky smugness. Jaro is fraught with worry, there’s anger there, but it’s directed at Lore, which seems to be the case for the rest of them… except for Caed, who’s just jealous and turned on.

“Dear heart, they’re fae. The thought has never crossed their minds.”

Titania doesn’t need to say it, but it soothes the worst of my nerves until all that remains is a tremulous thread of embarrassment that probably won’t fade until I see the proof for myself.

“Would it help to turn your mind to the upcoming tasks?”

Not really. That’s just exhausting. I dunk my head under the water to buy myself time to think, scrubbing at my tresses before I resurface. The water is already a soft pink, reminding me ominously of the iron-filled fountains in Elfhame.

“How are we supposed to remove all of that iron?” I ask candidly as I scrub away the dried blood beneath my fingernails. “It’s everywhere. I can’t stay in the palace until it’s dealt with, and?—”

“Danu prevails.”

What does that even mean? Is this just another of her sayings or some genuinely helpful advice?

My confusion must be written into the set of my brows because she smiles softly. “Faerie belongs to whom?”

“Danu. But magic can’t work around iron either.”

“Have faith.”

Before I can tell her how unhelpful that statement is, Lore returns, looking a little singed as he perches on the edge of the bed.

I raise one brow at his appearance. “Did you happen to run into Drystan?”

“Apparently, Daddy D was not impressed by my actions.” Lore shrugs. “He’d appreciate it if I returned you to your brother’s bedside?—”

“Florian.” I burst out of the bathwater, sloshing it everywhere. “I need clothes.”

Lore’s eyes are fixed on my breasts again as he shakes his head. “Nope.”

“Lorcan.” I use his full name and inject as much steel into my tone as I’m capable of when he’s still looking at me like that . “I need some clothes, and then we need to go back.”

Snatching a towel from the bed, I wrap it around myself to the sound of his groan. Goddess, he’s pouting like I’ve taken his favourite toy.

“If you insist, pet, but they’re not going anywhere. There’s a lot of posturing to be done now that the minor royals are all within two leagues of one another.”

I’d give anything to avoid getting in the middle of that, and I try to calculate my chances of avoiding Cressida, Aiyana, and Ashton, only to dismiss the idea.

They won’t leave without some kind of acknowledgement. Not a thank you—because expressing gratitude to any of them is a terrible idea—but something to soothe their egos at being summoned.

Lore ends up handing me a short, beaded dress with straps that crisscross over my shoulders and down past my wings, revealing all of my marks, including the one on my inner thigh, whenever I move. It feels like another claiming, but I know it’s also a show of strength.

There is nothing in this realm as powerful as a Nicnevin bonded properly to her Guard. The minor royals could do with being reminded of that at every opportunity.

But first, Florian.

When we arrive in the communal area between my Guards’ rooms, he’s half-conscious and battling Jaro’s, Prae’s, and Gryffin’s attempts to force him to sit in the plush chair by the bar. His eyes are concealed behind a crooked bandage, and it’s clear he can’t yet see.

“I’m fine!”

He’s not. His wounds are slathered in green paste, and his veins are still grey beneath his skin as he sluggishly fights against Gryffin and Jaro. His wings strain, adding extra impetus to his blind struggles.

Lore disappears with a kiss to my nape, and I don’t see Drystan either, so I assume he’s downstairs somewhere putting out fires with Kitarni.

“Stay back, Rosie,” Jaro warns, as Florian tries to throw a punch at his jaw that almost connects.

I have no problem staying out of reach, but I’m not about to let him earn any more bruises.

“Maeve?” I ask, shoving power at my grandmother.

She appears, cracking her knuckles. “Thought you’d never ask, kid. Step aside, boys.”

Gryffin and Jaro move, and the bronze-haired Nicnevin has no trouble grabbing both of Florian’s hands and restraining him.

Titania’s already beside me as we approach my struggling brother. Her hand is cold in mine, but Florian’s skin is colder still and slick with sweat as I grab his shoulder and allow her to get to work. As with all iron poisoning, it takes its toll, but I breathe through it, providing as much of Danu’s magic as she needs until my brother slumps, and she nods at me.

“He needs rest.”

Florian lurches forward, ripping free the bandage over his eyes with one hand. As he struggles to his feet unimpeded, I realise I’ve accidentally let go of Maeve.

“No. I need to get to my knights. We need to sort the city clean up and ensure there’s a full?—”

“A full garrison on the outer wall,” Jaro finishes for him, stepping up beside me and pulling me against his wide chest. “Burials for the dead are underway. Those who died defending the palace are being given wall honours. The high priestess herself is seeing to it.”

My brother’s eyes flutter closed, grief eclipsing his features before he shutters the emotion away.

“The refugees?” he finally presses.

“Already returning as we speak,” Bree pipes up from across the garden, his valravn perched on his arm as they gaze into each other’s eyes. “They’ve formed a caravan from Orvendel, led by the knights you sent with them, and they’ll be back tomorrow. The elders are already organising a plan for a city-wide cleanup. It might take a few weeks, but it will get done.”

The púca blinks and looks away, his valravn disappearing in a puff of ink. At the realisation that all of us are now looking at him, his ears flatten on his head. “At least, that was what Lox gathered from listening in.”

“See? Everything is in hand,” I tell my brother. “Please rest and, once you’re well, there are some things that I think you need to discuss with your mate.”

I manage to stop myself adding any charm to my request, but I do emphasise the last word, glancing to where Prae lingers on the fringes of our group. The Fomorian princess seems a little lost as she stares between her two males. The shorter strands of her white hair have fallen free of her blood-splattered dragon braid, and her war paint is smudged around her eyes—though I know better than to suggest that she’s been crying.

The awkwardness hits hard, the silence thick and cutting. Prae ends it when she reaches back down her spine and draws out a huge familiar sword, holding it out pommel-first.

“You can have your stupid sword back.”

My brother’s ice-blue eyes trace the blade, the corners of his mouth hardening as they reach her arm, where they linger on her fiery mating mark.

“What happened to ‘I’d rather die than mate a fairy?’” he asks, voice tight.

Prae’s mouth parts a little, the sword lowering as she casts about for an answer.

“This is a private conversation,” I murmur, tugging lightly at the bonds inside my chest to get my mates’ attention. “We’ll see you downstairs.”

“Stay,” Florian grates. “I—” He glances at Bree and Jaro, the former of whom senses his meaning and nods as he jumps into the sky, his wings catching him easily and taking him out of sight.

Jaro, of course, simply hugs me harder against him, one brow raised as if to say, ‘you really think I’m going to leave her alone?’

Honestly, his protectiveness is as unwarranted as it is sweet. I suppose I did just die… again. Still, this is my brother.

“Are you sure?” I ask, quietly. “You might want to be alone…”

Florian’s posture softens. “I’m hoping your presence will encourage both of us to be on our best behaviour.”

Prae snorts. “He means he’s fed up with us snarling and yelling at one another.”

“Hate sex can be hot,” Gryffin suggests.

Whatever gentleness that entered Florian’s bearing when he addressed me evaporates at the interruption. “Your input wasn’t asked for, withering prince.”

Jealousy seeps from him, but Gryffin just shrugs, cocky demeanour completely unaffected. “Prae likes my input. She likes it all night long until she can’t walk?—”

“Shut up,” Prae and Florian order at the same time, then glare at each other.

“If I may,” I begin, the tension between the trio making me physically uncomfortable. “I think, perhaps, this whole thing would go smoother if you told Florian how you two ended up mated in the first place.”

I have a sneaking suspicion that half of Florian’s anger is because he thinks she chose Gryffin over him, when really the situation couldn’t have been more different.

Prae lowers the sword. “It was a scheme worthy of a Fomorian, dreamt up by that hateful old crow of an unseelie queen.”

When she says it like that, it’s almost a compliment.

“My gracious aunt,” Gryffin corrects. “Who’s offered to host our mating ceremony once the war is over.”

The princess rolls her eyes. “She’s a she-hag who ordered you to trick me into a mate bond?—”

I drop my head into my hand, because it’s almost like Prae is trying to rile him up.

“What?” Florian takes a step forward until the pommel of his own sword is butting against his chest.

“Take the damned weapon,” Prae says.

“Only if it’s to make you a widow,” Florian promises, flicking the handle away.

“Drop the act. You only wanted me to have it so you could use your magic to find me after this was over. Did you think I didn’t know?”

Florian doesn’t deny it. “Are you going to tell me you didn’t plan on running away?”

My brows rise as the pieces fall together. Florian’s magic is dowsing—the gift of finding lost things—but Prae is a Fomorian and immune to a lot of fae magics. I’m also pretty sure he’s right. She would’ve run from her mating with Gryffin, too, but the circumstances didn’t allow it.

All this time, his sword was his way of keeping track of her?

“And if you knew, why take it in the first place?” Florian adds, gruffly. “I don’t understand you, Praedra. Every time I think we’re getting somewhere?—”

“You pull some shit like trying to get my cousin charmed into servitude,” Prae finishes for him. “I haven’t forgotten that.”

He bristles. “It would have saved his life. It would’ve spared you the pain of losing him like I lost Bram.”

Goddess, and there it is, a dull echo of pain that catches me off guard and steals my breath.

“Well, if you’d just let him out of the dungeon and taken him at his word?—”

“Goddess,” Gryffin interrupts, laughing. “You two need to just fuck already.”

Silently, I agree with him, but I say nothing besides darting between them and taking the sword for myself.

“Sorry,” I apologise. “I’m too tired to keep healing everyone.”

It’s the truth, but also, they’re here to sort out more than just the ownership of a stupid sword.

Florian’s brows crease in concern, but I hold my hand up for silence.

“I need you three to sort this out, so I can head downstairs to deal with the minor royals, knowing that my Court will take care of everything else.” I swallow but keep my tone level as I list off the rest of our problems. “The city is covered in iron, the summer king is in open rebellion against the crown, and Elatha escaped, despite everything we did.” I pause, taking a deep breath. “None of that is your fault, but I’m asking you to be kind to one another and resolve this, because I need all three of you.”

Florian gives me a sombre nod, before turning back to Prae. “You told Rose everything?”

“Yeah, it kinda fell out during the whole mess…” Prae shuffles her feet. “But that doesn’t mean you get to shove me into fae dresses and parade me around like a stuffy princess.”

“Tell me you weren’t going to stop her from wearing her sexy little outfits?” Gryffin tuts.

Florian grinds his teeth together. “I simply made the point that it would be hard to integrate her as a princess of the realm if she continued?—”

“You can’t be serious! The Siabethan nobles wear less on a cold day. And why would you ever want to cover her perfect tits?”

Florian’s eyes fall to the single strip of fabric currently covering Prae’s nipples, and I groan because that’s my brother and I don’t need to know what he thinks of her breasts.

My wings flutter impatiently, and I stroke Jaro’s arm around my waist to calm myself. He nuzzles his mark on my neck in response, and I remind myself to be patient.

Their relationship and happiness are important to me. Everything else will wait.

“Nicnevin,” Florian addresses me with strained formality. “I’d like your blessing on our mating ceremony?—”

“That’s presumptuous,” Prae objects.

“I’ve given you five years of space, Praedra. You objected to mating a fae prince. Since you’ve obviously overcome that hurdle?—”

Gryffin is grinning even as Prae folds her arms across her chest.

“I have not.”

My mouth floods with the bitterness of a lie, and I make a face.

“I believe it’s high time we tied the knot and made a respectable princess out of you.”

“I will stab you in your sleep.”

“No violence in the mating bed,” Gryffin pipes up.

My eyes are bouncing between the three of them as, behind me, Jaro quakes with silent laughter.

Prae glares at the autumn prince before turning on Florian again. “If you think?—”

“They’re good,” Gryffin tells me. “Arguing is her love language.”

Florian’s brows rise. “If that’s the case, she’s been infatuated with me since we first tried to kill each other.”

“Okay…” I take a step back, drawing Jaro with me. “You have an hour to discuss… things. Then I need you all working on how we’re going to clean up my palace. Maybe Prae can invent something, I don’t know.”

I’m babbling, practically racing from the room as Gryffin says, “That’s enough time for a quickie.”

“They’re not really going to…?” I ask Jaro as we pause on the stairs, grinning.

A low moan echoes from above us, and he makes an exasperated face. “I didn’t think Florian had it in him. They better wipe down the table.”

I pause, frowning at him in confusion. “The table…?”

His chuckle is low, and he reaches down to kiss his mark again . “Still so innocent, Rosie. I’m shocked the redcap hasn’t taken you on one yet.”

Blushing, I shake my head. “No… But we did enjoy ourselves on Cedwyn’s throne.”

Jaro’s smirk turns into a full-blown laugh, but the noise is covered by a tortured masculine groan, and the two of us exchange a look, then flee before we can overhear anything else.

“Do you think…” I begin.

“That it’ll work out?” Jaro shrugs. “I trust Danu knows what she’s doing. Florian’s always in control, always in charge. He needs someone to challenge him and make him cut loose.”

Silently, I wonder if Prae and Gryffin will challenge him or simply drive him insane, then dismiss it. They’re all adults. They’ll survive… probably.