Page 33 of Atop the Faerie Throne (The Fifth Nicnevin #5)

Thirty-Two

Rhoswyn

D espite the early hour, the oppressive heat of the Summer Court slaps me in the face the moment we arrive.

“Are you certain you don’t want more soldiers?” is the first question out of Jaro’s mouth as he kicks sand around on the beach below the Archway of the Sun.

I shake my head, turning to check my full Guard is here, then silently call on my guides, just in case.

“Remember, we’re not here to start any violence,” I caution Lore.

Of course, my redcap is already swooshing his sword around in the air, his cap stiffening into a nasal helmet.

No part of him is committed to peace, confirmed when he says gaily, “But I do get to finish it.”

“Ignore him,” Bree says, shifting closer to me. “They’re already starting to notice us.”

Indeed, the few fae fishing on the dawn-painted shore have looked up, and more than one is pointing in our direction.

“Showtime,” I mumble under my breath.

“You can do this, dear heart.” Titania moves to my side, taking my hand in her chilled one.

Her words are probably meant to be inspiring, but when I look up at the palace on the sandstone arch above us and catch sight of the throne room window, confidence is the last thing I feel.

Grief drives my first step forward, the memory of Bram’s collapse fresher here than it has been anywhere else.

When Bree’s hand slips into mine, I squeeze it tightly, as if the pressure can drive out the encroaching heaviness.

“I’ll find my father,” he promises as his wings snap out in a burst of black feathers. “He won’t get away a second time.”

“Mab will lead you to him,” I say, more for myself than him. “And act as backup if you need her.”

I wanted him to take one of the others, but he insisted this was his fight. Mab was the only compromise we could settle on, and I still worry she won’t be enough.

Rising to my tiptoes, I press a kiss to his lips in farewell before the two of them take flight.

Now it’s just me, Maeve, Titania, and the remainder of my Guard. My grandmothers stay within easy reach, leaving Lore and Caed to flank them, with Drystan and Jaro on the outside as we head up the beach and onto the main road into the city.

For this to work, we need the element of surprise, and the force of the people. We definitely have the former—no one but my court knew that we were coming today—and as for the latter…

The fishermen abandon their lines, following us at a safe distance, and it doesn’t take long until they’re joined by other curious fae who are already out and about. By the time we reach the first group of soldiers patrolling the street, there are two or three dozen people behind me.

“Stop, in the name of the king—” one soldier announces, but his words cut off as the rest of his patrol bows.

“I’m here to see Eero,” I say, without pause. “Anyone who tries to stop me will find themselves answering to the Goddess in the Otherworld.”

The first soldier looks like he might be about to try something, but the male to his left elbows him so hard that he goes down like a stone. Another of his companions grabs his collar and literally drags him out of our path.

Holding my breath—because I can’t believe it’s going to be that easy—I keep moving, doing my utmost to keep projecting calmness as I walk. The crowd is swelling in my peripheral vision, but if I focus on that, I might lose my nerve.

“Oh, this is going to be good.” Maeve is practically vibrating with excitement.

“She means this is going to be simple and go well,” Titania corrects.

“I thought there would be more blood by now,” Lore whines. “Can I stab the male who hesitated? It would send a message, and I’m a huge believer in good communication.”

“Absolutely not,” Drystan and Jaro growl at almost the exact same time. Caed just sniggers.

I can’t tell if the heaviness I feel as I approach the palace gates is my armour, or just the knowledge that every step is taking me closer to the inevitable. Ice flows through my veins as I stop and fix my eyes on the two soldiers clutching their spears like they can’t decide whether they should use them.

“You’ve heard what I did to the Fomorians who invaded my city,” I begin, unable to keep the Goddess from my words. “Do you really want to stand between me and the male who murdered my brother?”

To punctuate that statement, I draw enough power to manifest Maeve and Titania, both of them clasping their own weapons.

The first one actually drops his spear in his haste to bow, falling to his knees. The other glances over my shoulder, swallowing as he takes in my Guard, the expectant crowd, and then looks back at me.

Please, Goddess, just move , I beg him silently.

When he thrusts his spear down in anger, I breathe a visible sigh of relief.

Maeve steps forwards, cricking her neck. “Shall I do the honours?”

“Please do,” Lore begs. “This is the most boring king-spanking ever.”

From the other side, I hear shouting. The wood is juddering, and I can imagine the soldiers trying desperately to reinforce it. Danu’s power spirals out of me, filling Maeve. She places one hand on either gate and shoves .

The males behind the door fall backwards, the wood of their barricade splintering under her strength and Danu’s power. Those who manage to regain their feet have their weapons drawn, but I refuse to take more lives than I have to.

“Please drop your weapons and step aside.” The charm is so thick in my voice I can taste it.

Some of them struggle, but the clamour of metal hitting the gravel of the gardens beyond is loud. Behind me, gasps ring out as the fae following me finally learn what their Nicnevin’s seelie magic is capable of.

No time to think about that now.

There are soldiers on the wall who haven’t been hit by my magic. Jaro’s golden shield covers my back as arrows fly, and Titania returns fire without hesitation.

Drystan’s fire whips up in a circle, forcing the fae back, leaving the space around me clear in all directions as I walk calmly into the great gardens before the palace. The scent of smoke and blood churns my stomach, but I force myself to keep going, to keep breathing.

Lore whoops, his glee through the bond at finally being able to shred my enemies matched with my determination to make this fast to limit the carnage. From the corner of my eye, I see the Summer Court soldiers turning on each other, their loyalty to their Nicnevin overcoming their loyalty to their king.

That’s not what I wanted, but I suppose hoping otherwise was na?ve.

The white of my tunic and palest silver of my breastplate stand out from the sea of golden armour as I move through them. That was the point.

This has to be a spectacle to silence any doubts that Eero and Mervyn have sown in the minds of the people. His trial has to be swift enough that he has no time to prepare or escape and public enough that word spreads. There will be no second civil war.

Plenty of fae are still staring at me, so I lean on my charm a second time.

“Please bring Eero to me so he can stand trial before Danu for the crime of high treason.”

The soldiers, who moments ago were rushing me with their weapons drawn, disperse, heading for the palace. Drystan, Caed, and Lore abandon the fight to stalk after them.

It’s unlikely that Eero will be able to fight off so many, even with his magic and his bodyguards, but I funnel more and more of the Goddess’s power to my Guard as their backs disappear beyond the palace doors.

Now all I can do is wait.

It’s hard not to let my nerves show. Last time we almost didn’t make it out of this place. Still, I fix my gaze on the entrance, folding my arms as I turn my attention inward to where I can feel my Guard. Bree is quiet, focused, and intent in a way that makes me certain he’s still hunting his father. Jaro is with me, his wolf snarling with protectiveness; and the others…

The unseelie are enjoying this far too much. The satisfaction emanating from Drystan alone is enough to make me pity the summer king.

“There’s no shame in surrendering,” I say to the dwindling combatants around me, my voice louder and tinged with the power of the Goddess. “You need not die for that worm, hiding away in his tower while you fight his battles.”

I’m not sure the words have any impact, but it doesn’t matter. Those who put up a fight are slowly losing, anyway, and it isn’t long before both of my guides return to my side, followed swiftly by Jaro.

It’s only then that I have the courage to look back and see the fae gathered behind us. They’re muttering amongst themselves, and eyes drop wherever I look.

They’re afraid of me now.

Fortunately, I don’t have time to dwell on it. Lore blinks back to me with a grin on his blood-splattered face.

“Pet, his eyeballs aren’t impenetrable!”

That’s about as much warning as I get before the once-strong king is shoved from his own palace. His left eye is skewered with the tiniest, most delicate blade I’ve ever seen. Eero’s dressed in vivid gold and green robes, his shirt loose and rumpled like he’s been yanked from the middle of either a workout or some tryst.

Drystan and Caed have each taken one of his arms, and the flames around me part to admit the three of them before they kick out the backs of his knees, leaving him kneeling just beyond my reach.

I dismiss Maeve and Titania with a small grateful look, and Lore takes their place by my side as he bounces on his heels with excitement.

“I left you an eyeball,” he says, offering me a matching blade. “After you charm him, you can carve it out, if you want.”

I curl his fingers back around the knife. “Prae’s invention will hurt more.”

Lore shrugs, pulling the sphere from his pocket and tossing it up in the air over and over again.

“You dare invade my court,” Eero spits. “Tell me, when will you give the Blade Prince my crown? Before or after you finish polluting Faerie with?—”

I meet his remaining eye and forgo any effort to hold back my rage as I say, “Please shut up and look at me.”

Charm whips from me like a physical blow, and the entire crowd goes deathly quiet.

“Please only speak if it’s to answer my questions truthfully and do so loud enough for your subjects to hear,” I continue, raising my own voice so it carries as I step forward, rage unfurling in my gut.

“Did you knowingly assist former Grand Cleric Mervyn in spreading rumours about my court?”

Eero gives a valiant attempt to look indignant, but the effect is rather muted by his position. “Of course I did.”

That’s not enough, so I push my magic a little further to loosen his tongue. “Please, tell us all why.”

“No Fomorian should ever have a place among us,” he begins proudly, but the magic is still working, ripping the rest of the truth from his mouth. “And under fae don’t belong in the court of a Nicnevin, let alone at the head of the Temple. Danu has never permitted it, for good reason. They’re incapable of comprehending the complex responsibilities that come with such a position.”

The muttering rises again, and I let the gathered fae gossip. They should know what their king really thought of them. It takes a moment or two for the hubbub to die down, and when it does, I launch straight into my second question.

“Did you use iron to trap my Guard with the intent to murder me, your Nicnevin?”

“Yes,” he hisses.

“Where did you get the iron?”

His complexion is darkening, the blood vessels in his good eye popping with strain.

“It was supplied by King Elatha and installed by his people.”

Someone in the distance shouts, “Traitor!”

“And did you conspire to help the Fomorians in exchange for sovereignty over these lands once his invasion was complete?”

He’s seething with rage. Every single muscle in his body is tensed against my pull, but try as he might, Eero can’t stop his words from spilling forth.

“Yes. I did.”

Gasps sound. The word ‘treason’ echoes from dozens of lips.

“Did you order Torrance Lyarthorn to assassinate me with nathair venom in the Autumn Court?”

His body sags, knowing that the battle is lost, yet he can’t look away. “Yes.”

I don’t wait for the fae to be quiet this time. My heart clenches in my chest, but this final question needs to be asked. “And did you murder Prince Bramwell, youngest son of the Fourth Nicnevin?”

His face is blank, so I can’t read him, and his voice is completely remorseless as he grates, “The stupid fox got in my way.”

A lone tear escapes the inner corner of my eye, running down my nose until I taste the salt. Eero scoffs, no doubt seeing weakness.

He’s a fool.

I’m not crying for Bram, though my throat is once again thick with grief. Nor is the tear for what he’s about to suffer. I’m not even crying for the mate my brother never found, who’ll now wander this world until death, wondering where the other half of their soul is.

These silly selfish tears are for me. For the girl who once tended a vegetable garden, hobbled around with mortal worries, and silently endured debilitating bouts of weakness. I’ve gained so much; a family, a queendom, five mates who I love with every fragment of my being, and yet…

This feels like the final death of who I was before.

Rose, the blacksmith’s daughter, would never have dreamed of doing what I’m about to do.

Even the version of me who set out on her pilgrimage so many months ago would’ve hesitated.

Nicnevin Rhoswyn steps forward, knowing she’ll do it a hundred times over if she has to.

“Please open your mouth and stick out your tongue,” I whisper, the simple instruction harsh and bleeding. “Lore?”

I raise my hand, palm up expectantly. Plucking his hat from his head, my redcap shoves his whole arm inside the crown, rummaging until he finds what I need.

He wanted to be the one to kill Eero, but somewhere in the midst of my questioning, I realised that no fae will respect that verdict.

Eero wronged me. Betrayed my throne. Killed my brother.

And so it’s me, and only me, who can execute him.

The tiny ball that Prae designed is warm. Lore hands it to me with a fang-filled grin, and his cap morphs into a delicate arching headdress, with beads that fall down to tickle my brows when he pops it onto my head with a kiss. He’s just as thrilled for me to execute the king of summer as he would’ve been to do it himself.

“Eero Scorsha, you have betrayed me, betrayed the realm of Faerie and the people you swore to govern and protect. For that, I sentence you to death.”

The orb lands on his tongue, and I grip his jaw with my other hand. “Now, please swallow.”

It takes work. For a moment, I panic that he might not be able to get it down. It’s the size of a large chestnut, after all.

But then his throat bulges, the lump of it visible as it travels to his gut. I don’t know what to expect, nor does anyone else.

We don’t have to wait long.

Eero jerks so hard that Drystan and Caed are forced to release him as he sprawls to the left. Then he jolts upright, then back down. His hands go straight to his belly, tearing at his clothes. When he rips the fabric up, I watch with horrified fascination as something presses against the flawless skin of his abdomen from the inside. Black lines spread out wherever it goes, making it clear that some kind of iron was involved in its creation, but it still takes the device ricocheting around his body several more times as his movements grow more and more sluggish for me to realise what Prae did.

She designed the ball to shred him from within.

The entire crowd watches as their king is torn apart from the inside out.

Lore is actively chanting something that sounds like it might be, “please let it exit through his dick,” under his breath, and I swallow back bile as I retreat one step.

Goddess, he’s still twitching.

This is justice, I remind myself, though I feel anything but just right now. His death is beyond cruel and yet…

No remorse shows on my face. Aside from that lonely tear, I remain unmoved. Perhaps it’s shock. Perhaps I’m simply getting better at projecting strength while I’m under such scrutiny.

Finally, he gives one great, convulsing cough, emitting a hoarse gargling noise that no living being should be capable of producing, before the ball shoots back out of his mouth, splattered in blood. I barely have enough time to note the six curved blades that have extruded from the outer shell in two crisscrossing lines before they click back in. It sits there, deceptively harmless and covered in blood, until Caed grabs and pockets it.

The king is dead.

Now all I can do is pray the new queen has the good sense not to test me.

“Bring me Ciara.” I don’t even have to use charm this time for the fae to scatter to obey.

They take even less time to find her than they did Eero, and I wonder idly if she was just waiting for this moment. She’s certainly dressed well for someone who was a prisoner. The summer princess is made up like a queen, wearing gold and white, her oiled brown skin gleaming in the sun as she glides towards us.

Drystan drops the flames at last, and I step forward as Ciara crosses the scorched line on the ground where they were. My fingers tremble slightly as I wrench the golden band from Eero’s head.

To her credit, she immediately drops to her knees before his corpse.

“I swear my fealty to Nicnevin Rhoswyn. Never will my deeds bring harm to her, nor shall I hear of harm to her, unless it is to obstruct it. I accept her as my Nicnevin, on condition that she rule my subjects with the Goddess’s fairness, and that she will perform all duties as they are written in the Treaty of Marlen. May Danu witness my vow and strike me down if I recant.”

My chin dips in silent acknowledgement, and I thrust the circlet at her. “We have work to do, Queen Ciara.”

I deliberately stress the title, ensuring the rest of her court hears it. There’s no time for arguments over the succession. I have no idea if Eero has other heirs, and I’m not interested in waiting for them to come forward. They can fight over her throne after the war is over.

“Summer owes you a great debt,” the new queen says slowly, smoothing the fabric over the generous curves of her thighs. “We will repay in full.”

Admissions of that kind are big to fae. I’d like to think that means we’re off to a good start. It’s enough to make hope flare inside me.

“Good. I need ships.”

Murmurs rise, but a sharp tug on my chest distracts me. Bree drags magic from our bond so fast it gives me whiplash, and even though I open myself to Danu as fast as I can, the accompanying dizziness still catches me off guard.

The ground shakes, and my wings flare out, steadying me while everyone around us staggers. My Guard spin, searching for the cause, but it’s not immediately obvious.

At least, not until the BOOM hits a second later.