Page 37 of Atop the Faerie Throne (The Fifth Nicnevin #5)

Thirty-Six

Rhoswyn

T hrowing myself into preparing for the feast of Beltaine hasn’t helped. The dread, which once was a low-level hum in the back of my mind, has become a constant underlying buzz of anxiety that starts when I wake, then follows me into my dreams.

No amount of planning, decorating, or helping has dispelled it.

So here I am, watching the sun lower towards the horizon from an empty room in the palace, hiding from my Guard as I try to find the strength to face this.

Beltaine Eve.

The moment the sun goes down, the feast starts, and it continues until the following sunset. No one seems sure when Danu’s curse will take effect, and Caed will…

My breath catches, eyes watering.

“Kid,” Maeve murmurs, sitting beside me. “It’ll be okay.”

“It won’t,” I whisper. “I was so stupid. I should’ve kept my distance. I should’ve known that Drystan would never… that this was doomed.”

My heart is breaking, and the worst part is, they can all feel it. I never thought I’d regret mating them, but I wish that they didn’t have to go through this.

“Dear heart,” Titania tries from my other side. “They’ve made progress. There’s still time.”

My three guides are convinced that the stag’s head on Caed’s arm is a fraction darker than it was at the start of the week. I’m not so sure. And time? Everyone has been telling me ‘there’s still time’ for too long now.

All that remains is hours, if not minutes.

Taking another shaky breath, I watch the fae in the outer city crowding the many dark silhouettes of unlit bonfires. They’ll be lit as the sun goes down, and then I’ve been told the fucking will start. Samhain is dedicated to the Wild Hunt chasing the dead, but its sister festival is the polar opposite. Life, sex, joy.

Instead of hiding in their homes, the fae become the hunters. Females are chased through the streets by their suitors, only to be caught and taken for all to see. Those who aren’t partaking in the great rite dance and drink around the Beltaine fires, keeping them stoked until the end of the feast, when the ashes are distributed as protective charms amongst the masses.

A celebration of life, and yet Caed’s hangs by a thread.

“Please, Danu,” I whisper, pushing the request at the part of myself where the Goddess lies quiescent and insipid. “Spare him.”

“Danu would listen to your prayers, above all, if she could,” Kitarni says, and I turn to meet her sad eyes. “But I fear that this is out of her hands.”

My guides disappear, content to leave me in the care of my high priestess. Or perhaps they’re sick of my morose company.

“It’s her curse,” I argue, dragging in a shaky breath as she clasps a bark-covered hand around mine and leads me back to the stairs. “There must be something.”

“If there is, it will not be discovered here, in an abandoned garden. Come. Beltaine is a time for wishes. Dance the fire with the other young fae.”

She raises a hand to her blossom-strewn hair and snaps off a strand, weaving it swiftly into a heavy flower crown that she places atop my head.

“I don’t feel like dancing,” I say, only to stop in place as I realise who waits for me at the bottom of the steps.

Two pairs of eyes, one amber and one turquoise, flash to meet mine. When they catch sight of the tear tracks on my cheeks, they both freeze. Caed’s hand comes up to rub the back of his neck, and my dullahan crosses his arms.

“Rhoswyn, I…” Drystan starts, then clears his throat. “I thought you might enjoy spending the feast with the Fomorian.”

He bows, his self-directed anger filling the space between us for a second before he turns and strides away.

Caed offers me a small smirk. “I think that was his awkward way of apologising for killing me later.”

The Fomorian is completely shirtless, tattoos on full display, and I can’t help glancing hopefully at the mark on his arm.

No change.

It takes every single ounce of bravery I possess to paste a smile on my face. “Apparently, Kitarni has decided I’ve got to dance around the bonfires. Care to join me?”

“Fomorian warriors don’t dance,” Caed corrects, then ruins the snooty impression when he adds, “But I might be convinced if a certain little queen were to ply me with enough fairy mead to drop an ogre.”

Snorting, I take his hand, even though he hasn’t offered it. If I cling a little harder to him than usual, he doesn’t comment as we navigate the steps down and out of the palace. Wraith bounds over as soon as he spots us, butting my shoulder with his huge head. Someone has already saddled him, ready for our trip, and my fingers stroke the smooth leather.

“There are some rituals that ought to be taken care of in the Temple,” Kitarni says abruptly. “Enjoy yourselves, both of you.”

The excuse is so transparent that it might shatter like glass if I say anything, so I nod and wave her off.

“That was the closest I think I’ve ever seen her come to lying,” Caed comments as he lifts me up onto Wraith’s back and hands me the reins, then accepts a horse of his own from the waiting page.

“She was being nice,” I say. “We can call her back if Drystan thinks we need a chaperone.”

Caed coughs. “This was actually his idea.”

My brows rise into my hairline, but I keep my thoughts on that to myself.

Either it’s his way of apologising, or some last-ditch attempt to save us. Either way, I’m grateful. I can’t even be mad at him, not really.

“He’s trying,” I say. “I don’t think he hates you anymore.”

“How could he? He’s been exposed to my sparkling personality pretty much constantly for the last week.”

Though the words are cocky, there’s a hint of annoyance there.

“I take it that all of those war meetings weren’t fun?”

Caed huffs out a breath. “I get that he was trying to trust me, but honestly, I’d rather he beat me into a pulp daily. At least that would’ve been less boring.”

“It can’t have been that bad.”

“You’re right. I’d take that over holding his head any day. This morning, he made me do that for almost an hour.”

Goddess, he really is trying.

The rest of the inner city is a blur. The two of us watch with amusement—and a little shock—as mostly naked fae with glittering skin dart between buildings, pursued by their equally nude partners.

“That looks like chaos,” Caed mutters. “Goddess, my eyes. This much cock on display is just awful.”

“There are some children’s fires by the north gate,” I say. “Everyone there will be wearing clothes. You can join them if your insecurity is getting hard to bear.”

“Insecurity?” Caed scoffs. “Little queen, if you want to know how big my cock is, you only have to ask. I don’t think you’ll have any complaints.”

That’s the boldest his flirting has ever been, and my eyes widen as they meet his.

We’ve been so careful never to cross the line, though we’ve never said as much. He, because he didn’t want to hurt his chances with Drystan, and me because I knew there was no going back once I did.

The reasoning seems silly now. Obviously, celibacy had no impact on whatever subconscious block my dullahan is battling, and it didn’t stop me falling for Caed.

Fae call out to us as we ride past, towards the largest of the bonfires, and my heart sinks as I realise the sun has dipped below the outer wall. I can’t help compulsively glancing at the mate mark on my hand, checking that the blue sunburst on my wrist is still there.

There are fae peddling food and drink everywhere, and when we finally dismount before the largest bonfire, a goblin with a wicker vending tray wastes no time in darting forwards and placing brightly coloured paper bags into our hands.

“Goddess bless the Nicnevin,” he says, waving me away as I reach for my money.

Before I can even reply, he’s gone, working his way through the crowd.

“Fuck yes.” Caed grins, digging straight into the bag and pulling out a wrapped sweet. “Wait, what’s a sour gnome?”

I shrug, because I have no idea. He gives the hard-boiled sugar within an experimental sniff before shoving the whole thing into his mouth.

“Ancestors balls,” he mutters. “That is sour. Wait, what the fuck?”

He sticks his now-green tongue out, making a comical face as he tries in vain to see it past his nose. I cover my mouth with a giggle as miniature sugar flowers pop into being on the surface.

Without thinking, I lean forward and kiss him, swiping one of the sour blooms into my mouth. It melts almost instantly, leaving behind the flavour of tart apples.

“I don’t think those are my favourite,” I say, after a second of considering it.

“Fucking fairy food,” Caed snorts, swallowing the rest. “Do you reckon a fizzy barghest is safe, or will it grow teeth and try to eat my soul?”

Offering him a smile and a shrug, I pick one from my own bag at random and shove it into my mouth. Sickly sweetness replaces the sour, and I hum happily, following him through the crowd to get a better view of the bonfire.

“This one is really good.” I almost drop the bag in shock, and Caed roars with laughter. My voice is three octaves higher than normal, and the words are so fast I can’t believe they actually came from my mouth. “Goddess! This is so weird.”

Caed takes the wrapper from me. “Pixie mallow.”

“You’ve got to try one,” I say. “Where’s another?” But my words are already returning to normal.

Disappointment spikes, and I shove my hand back into the bag, searching for more.

Caed snorts. “No way. I want to keep my dignity. Do you think trollish liquorice is safe, or should I go with a valravn twist?”

“Valravn twist,” I reply, distractedly.

Laughing drops sound safe… right? I pop the bright yellow teardrop into my mouth and grin at the citrus sweetness. “Oh, these are so?—”

My words cut off with a burst of sudden, bright laughter.

“What the—” Another giggle bursts free, and I slam my lips together as my cheeks heat and my belly starts to ache from holding it in. “No. I take it back. These are terrible.”

Caed unwraps his valravn twist. It darts from the wrapper and zips around his head, swiftly evading his attempts to catch it. It’s amazing, beautiful magic. The kind of whimsical things that make my heart soar like it did during my first days in the realm.

Caed finally catches the black and red sweet in one hand and shoves it into his mouth, only to find himself hovering inches in the air. “This is absolutely ridiculous,” he mutters. “Fuck it. I’m having the troll thing next. How much worse can it be?”

It turns out that a trollish liquorice is worse. He’s stuck speaking in grunts and snorts for a full two minutes after eating one. I’m not sure if it’s the laughing drop or genuine amusement that makes me cackle as he gets more and more frustrated by the inability to speak. In an effort to dispel the effects, I shove a fizzy barghest into my mouth.

“They’re actually pretty good,” he finally manages.

“Awooo,” I howl in agreement, then squeeze my eyes shut and shake my head as it’s his turn to laugh. It takes four more small lupine howls before I can get words out again. “I think I’ll stick to the pixie mallows.”

My cheeks must be permanently pink from the amused looks we’re getting, but we’re hardly the only ones, nor the loudest in the crowd.

“I would pay gold to anyone who could trick the dullahan into eating one of these,” Caed mumbles, grabbing another sweet at random as we finally reach the steps up to the wall. The reminder drags me out of the brief spell of levity, and he curses. “I didn’t mean to bring that up. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” I mumble, putting more focus on keeping my balance on the stairs than is really necessary. “Maybe…”

The sentence lingers, unfinished, and neither of us rushes to fill the silence. I shove another laughing drop into my mouth, but it’s hollow.

The sun is just dipping onto the horizon. Conversation all around us falls to a hush as anticipation fills the crowd. The second the glowing orb starts to dip, a cheer rises, and the bonfires go up in a whoosh of flame.

Warbling voices join the cheers. Fae kiss and laugh all around us, completely unaware of the fear gripping my heart.

“Still alive,” Caed jokes, and I give him an admonishing slap to the arm. “Looks like the Goddess might grant me until the end of the festival.

“Caed, I…”

“I’d rather spend it loving you,” he says, cutting me off. “Having fun, than kissing that idiot’s ass.”

“Drystan could?—”

“Rose, the male has tried everything. It’s not happening. Just… enjoy the moment.” He raises one of the brown discs to my lips, and I take it obligingly, only to discover it’s one of the troll ones.

“Ohg grubt morp bleght,” I tell him, then offer him a scowl. It doesn’t taste bad, but the grunting is less than flattering.

“Yeah, I know. I do have the best ass of all your Guard,” Caed deliberately misinterprets. “It’s a shame the others weren’t so blessed.”

“Cabht orscht,” I roll my eyes at him. “Agght leog.” I shove away the second he aims in my direction.

“You know you love it.”

In revenge, I rummage in my own bag, fingers catching on a round sphere in the bottom. With a brow raised in challenge, I peel off the wrapper and hold the glittery ball out to him.

Cocky smile in place, he bends and eats it from my hand.

I hold my breath, hoping that this one comes with something that will lighten the mood again. Only… his brows draw together, and he shifts his weight from left to right instead.

“What…” He clears his throat, does an odd little sidestep, and tries again. “What was that one?”

Looking down at the wrapper, I suck my lower lip between my teeth, cheeks turning scarlet.

“Erm… it says it’s a…” I lower my voice. “Faedust fuckbomb.”

He makes a funny sound in the back of his throat that might be half chuckle, half groan, and the tips of his double-pointed ears turn navy. “You’ve got to try this.”

His hand goes straight into the bag that he’s currently holding protectively in front of his crotch, like some kind of shield. As soon as he finds it, he holds it out to me expectantly.

“What does it do?” I ask, peering around the bag.

“Don’t you trust me, little queen?”

Not in the slightest, but the challenge there is undeniable and… I want to know. Curiously, I suck it between my lips, frowning when the previously solid candy bursts into liquid syrup on my tongue.

Just like with him, nothing happens for a long moment.

And then…

Wetness gushes from me. My mouth parts on a silent ‘o’ of surprise as my core explodes. For a second, I wonder if I’ve lost control of my bladder, but then the low buzz I get from being around my mates flares bright into fireworks of arousal. Goddess, I’m close to the edge of orgasm without any preparation or warning.

“Shit,” I cough out, collapsing against his side as my thighs squeeze together. I’m not sure if I’m trying to stop it, or to push myself over the edge. Neither works. “Who came up with that?!”

Of course , the fae have arousal candies. Shouldn’t there be a warning on those? Beltaine is a fertility festival, I suppose, but still.

“Ten gold it was a redcap,” Caed grunts, and I belatedly realise he was holding the bag over his crotch to hide the bulge there.

As soon as he notices me staring, he shoves the bag aside and raises a glamour over the spot instead, clearing his throat. “I don’t think we were supposed to eat those until later in the evening.”

I know what he means. We barely got here, and already I desperately want to leave or search out a dark corner. Actually, who needs a corner?

Goddess, Lore would be so proud of me for that thought.

Searching desperately for a distraction, I glance over at the bonfires and the fae whirling around them.

“I don’t have any mead,” I admit, remembering his earlier comment about Fomorians not dancing. “But… I do want to join that.”

They’re whirling to the beat of drums and harps, and it reminds me of the under fae revel Bree and Lore took me to after my coronation. I don’t even wait for his response before taking his hand and dragging him back down the stairs. Away from the wall and the sun slipping farther and farther beyond the horizon, and towards the dancing flames.

I don’t know the steps, but that doesn’t stop me as I pass him my bag of sweets, kick off my shoes, and join the crowds of spinning, barefooted fae. The skirts of my dress flare out around me as Caed takes a seat on a bench at the edge of the crowd, arms folded and eyes alert. Unlike last time, where I couldn’t take part when the winged fae took to the skies, this time I can.

My wings drip dust, thanks in part to the fuckbomb and because Caed’s stare just doesn’t leave my body once. His eyes scan my legs as I twirl, then skip to my breasts when I bend backwards and wink at him. Soon it becomes a game.

How long can I dance before he joins me?

How much can I tease him before he gives in?

I’m not the only one playing. The fae around me are being far more openly suggestive than I am. Skirts are being lifted. Buttons undone. Drumbeats pound faster, fiddles come out, and pipes trill merrily in the night. The heat from the flames kisses my bare skin, and the scent of incense scattered on the fire fills my nose.

Every so often, a fae dashes away from the fires into the darkness with shrieks of delight, only to return later with mud-streaked skin and twigs in their hair.

It’s primal, base, and yet… right.

I dance for over an hour, my skin slick with sweat and dust. Someone presses some mead into Caed’s hand, and he sips it as he watches me until it’s gone and the tankard is discarded alongside the paper bags on the floor at his feet. It feels like I’m dancing for him, and him alone, caught up in the excitement of the crowd and the rake of his eyes across my body.

Come here , I beg silently. Touch me, dance with me…

But he doesn’t break.

Finally, I undo the top button of my dress, followed swiftly by the second. He takes that first step forwards as my breasts try their best to escape the tight-fitting fabric.

Grinning triumphantly, I hold out my hands in invitation, but he grabs my waist instead, pulling me flush against him.

“I thought you were coming to dance,” I murmur against his bare chest.

“Dancing? Is that what you’re doing?” He presses a tiny kiss to the tip of my ear, and I shiver. “From over there, it looked like you were teasing the ever living fuck out of me.”

My pussy clenches, and I flutter my wings a little, raising me so I’m level with him and nip his own ear in return. “Can’t I do both?”

“You’re not playing fair, little queen.”

No. Probably not. But I’ve waited too long, and if this is all we ever get, I’m not wasting another second.

“Chase me,” I whisper, trying to pull him away from the fire and towards the darkness.

But he won’t give in so easily. He remains rooted to the spot, turning me so my back is plastered against his front. “You wanted to dance, little queen. Besides, if the dullahan were to come for us and find me chasing you… I don’t fancy my chances.”

My stomach dips, but I won’t let the curse steal this moment from us, so I roll my hips instead, drawing a tiny, hitched breath from him.

“Next time,” I promise, refusing to dwell on the fact that there might not be a next time.