Page 40 of Atop the Faerie Throne (The Fifth Nicnevin #5)

Thirty-Nine

Drystan

I have never despised another being quite as much as I loathe myself as I watch the maids lower a catatonic Rose into a steaming bath full of herbs.

We all felt it happen. Felt her wake up and the way she fractured.

The others haven’t said anything. They don’t need to. The way she screamed when we tried to separate her from Caed so he could get cleaned up was enough.

The redcap found them in the fields yesterday, covered in mud and clinging to one another. I’d hoped that there might’ve been some improvement overnight. No such luck.

Now the Fomorian is slumped against the side of her bath, his stare blanker than hers. The only time he’s even acknowledged anyone else was when he first saw me and dropped to his knees like he was waiting for me to put him out of his misery.

Fuck him. Fuck him for even thinking that I would do anything that might shatter what little of our mate remains. And fuck me for—urgh.

I can’t take this. I can’t.

Without a word, I slam out of the room, taking the stairs three at a time with my hands curled into fists.

“You’re running away?” Jaro demands, following after me. “You’re going to leave her?—?”

Turning on my heel, I stop him in place with a glare, then resume my path.

If only the wolf were so easily brought to heel.

“What are you going to do?” he presses, as I resume grinding my teeth into dust. “Drystan. You can’t leave her without even?—”

I whirl as I reach the next platform, fist raised, before I can stop myself. I bounce off his shield and find myself flat on my arse a second later, a giant wolf poised to rip out my throat. The beast stares at me, primal and uncomprehending. Whatever hold Jaro has over him is gone, and the feral creature only cares that its mate is in pain.

“I can’t fix this if you maim me,” I growl, returning his bared teeth with a snarl of my own.

That quickly, he shifts back, uncaring of his nudity.

“You think you can give them the bond back?” The honest hope in his eyes is too much, and I refuse to look at him as I shove back to my feet.

No.

Truthfully, I doubt it’s possible. The Goddess has decided, and her Will has been wrought. There will be no easy way of restoring what’s been lost.

“I am going to ask someone wiser than me.”

“Do you want backup?” He looks guiltily in the direction of our mate, and I know he’s as fed up with being powerless as I am.

He needs something to do other than keep vigil.

“Manage the troops while I’m gone. Keep her alive.”

With those last words, I abandon him and head for the stables. I don’t need a saddle or bridle to ride Blizzard, and fetching them would waste time, so I ignore the flustered stable hands as I lead my horse out of the stall. Then, in a move that shows just how far gone I am for my mate, I ignore the dozens of watching fae in the courtyard, mount my horse, and tug my head free of my neck.

With one hand fisted in my braids and the other tangled in his mane, I kick the stallion into a gallop, urging him up and into the morning sky.

The sky above Calimnel is dark by the time we reach the peak, and the lights of the Otherworld are twinkling above, faint, but present despite how late in the year it is. I urge my horse down into the mouth of the Sanctuary, leading him to one of the long-dead braziers and lighting it so he’s warm. It’s been a hard two days’ riding, with no rest. He deserves something to eat, but I don’t have that, so I hope the fire makes up for it.

I pat his neck twice in gratitude, before pacing back to the cavernous entrance and the shimmering sky beyond.

This won’t work. It’s been too long since Samhain. The veil is at its thickest. What I’m about to try goes against every law that I’ve been taught.

Yet, the mating bond is sparing me no quarter. It resonates with the echo of my Nicnevin shutting down. There’s nothing I won’t do to fix this.

I just hope I’m not alone.

“Grandfather,” I call.

Archie appears on my left, touching the ribbon over his neck in greeting as he regards me. He’s never been a spirit of many words, even when he used to visit me as a child, or when he taught me the lore of our kind in quiet moments.

With no reason to torment the Froshtyns, he’s returned to his favourite haunt, just as I hoped. That saves time. Unlike Rose, I’m no necromancer to summon spirits when I need them, and I wasn’t looking forward to searching Calimnel for him.

“It’s been a while since you sought me out, lad,” Archie eventually says.

Placing my head back on my body, I nod grimly. “I need your help.”

He raises a brow. “The Lord of the Wild Hunt escorts the dead to rest. Only necromancers may command their aid.”

So he’s told me, many times. But I’m no longer a boy begging for help to survive my parents’ stupid war. I’m a grown male.

“I need to enter the Otherworld.”

That stumps him. His jaw goes slack, and he runs a hand through the battle-mussed tresses of his long hair.

“Can it be done?” I press.

He paces away, then back. “There are only two places where fae may cross to and from the Otherworld. The first is Danu’s Cave, which is unreachable to all save the Nicnevin.”

“And the other is on Samhain, when we open the way. I know. But can it be done outside of Samhain? Can I do it now? I don’t need to get hundreds of spirits through. I just need to speak to the Goddess.”

“Even if it were possible, only the dead may cross. If you wish to petition the Lady, find a Temple and do it the normal way.”

“That’s not what I asked,” I snap. “You know I wouldn’t try if it weren’t important.”

We’re caught in a staring match, my shoulders heaving as my breath fogs the space between us.

Archie was Lord of the Wild Hunt for centuries before I was born. He must know. He’s the only one who would.

“Our fire is the Goddess’s own,” Archie reminds me, his tone grim. “It’s what allows our bone weapons to pierce the veil, and what enables us to destroy spirits.” He pauses. “Theoretically, yes. If you channelled enough power… But no ordinary Lord of the Hunt could.” My fists clench, but he’s not done. “However, a Lord Huntsman mated to the Nicnevin, with the Goddess’s own magic at his fingertips, might just stand a chance.”

With one final wink and a farewell nod, he disappears into the darkness.

Blizzard whinnies nervously behind me, and I take a deep steadying breath, looking up at the faint dancing light in the sky one last time before I take off my head and use the braids to tie it onto my belt. Not quite as elegant a solution as the loose woven bag I usually prefer, but it’ll do.

Rose was so out of it when I left. There’s no telling if she’ll be able to link me to the Goddess, but I don’t want to go back there and get their hopes up.

If this doesn’t work, I don’t want to crush her again.

The whip slides out of my arm without a thought, my flames coating it as I reach inward and tug gently on the mating bond. My request goes unanswered, and I hate myself a little more as I yank insistently a second time.

I can’t risk drawing from her life force right now, but I need her to channel Danu’s magic for me.

Still nothing. My mate is an empty abyss on the other side of our bond. I roll my shoulders, reminding myself that I’m doing this for her, before letting my third request become a stubborn demand.

It works, breaking through her numbness long enough to get her attention. Anyone else would refuse out of spite, but this is Rhoswyn, the most infuriatingly compassionate and selfless Nicnevin ever created. She sends a sluggish tendril of power toward me, and I grab it, combining the extra magic with my own until my body starts to grow uncomfortably warm.

It’s not enough. I draw more, scorching the floor as I channel as much of the Goddess’s own power into the whip until it’s a white hot and glowing coil in my hand. Sparks fly as I flex my wrist, releasing the length and giving the vertebrae an experimental twist.

The first snap of bone against the veil is loud, but ineffective. I grit my teeth as the impact travels up and into my shoulder, jarring tendons that protest loudly.

Not enough? Fine.

I draw even more from my mate, gathering it up until it feels like I might burst from the effort of holding it, then drive every ounce of it into my next lash. The impact forces me to take a step back, white sparks flying everywhere.

Yet when I look again, a spiderweb crack has appeared in the night sky.

“Stop this,” a harsh female voice orders. “You break what you do not understand, Lord Huntsman.”

Perhaps the redcap has rotted my brain, but all I can hear is that I’m close.

Bracing myself for a third strike, I take a deep breath and flex my wrist, only for the crack to race outwards before I can let fly. The warmth and peace of the Otherworld slaps me in the chest, just like it always does, but this time something older, vaster, and much more furious accompanies it.

Perhaps I won’t have to cross the veil to seek an audience with the Goddess. It appears she’s chosen to come to me.

An unseen hand shoves me to my knees, and then down to my elbows, and lower still until my shadowy face is pressed into the stone beneath me, and I groan under the pressure. Like this, my head has swung uselessly to face the far wall, and I can’t move my arm to fix the angle without risking my bones snapping under Danu’s strength.

“There are many sacred laws written into the fabric of this realm, and yet you have the gall to violate no less than three of them to seek an audience.”

The Goddess is pissed.

Fine.

So am I.

“I pledged my body, my magic, and my soul to the protection of Nicnevin Rhoswyn,” I retort. “You were there. You remember. I’ll keep my oath or break the world trying.”

Danu’s chuckle is dark, her amusement edged with threat. “You tread a dangerous line, Huntsman. I set my terms, and they were unmet. If you were so adamant about protecting your mate, you might’ve tried this hard to trust Caedmon.”

Does she think I don’t know that? “You set him an impossible task.”

“You mean, I set you an impossible task,” Danu tuts. “It was not. I wished to ensure my beloved daughter was surrounded by males who could work together to protect her. A true Guard to support her in the face of her battles.”

“And in the process, you’ve destroyed her.”

The pressure on my spine lets up, and I feel her retreat. “I did not grant you an audience for you to cast aspersions to distract from your own shortcomings.”

She’s leaving, I realise with dread. “No. You didn’t. You granted it because you want her happy, and you know she can’t be what you need like this.”

Danu pauses, but I don’t dare look up or try to guess at what she’s thinking.

“I have what I need. Even without Caedmon, my Nicnevin will do her duty. When all is done, and she returns to my side, the unity between Fae and Fomorians remains assured through Praedra’s line.”

“You can’t truly want that.”

“It is done.”

“Well, un do it!”

The pressure returns, doubled, until my spine cracks from how hard she’s forcing me into the stone. “The terms were set, and they weren’t met. It is out of my hands, Huntsman. There is nothing I can do.”

“Extend the deadline.”

Am I imagining the touch of sorrow in her voice as she answers, “It’s not so simple as that.”

The silence stretches on, the scent of wild meadows lingering teasingly in the air, reminding me of Rose’s own sweet floral scent. My eyes slide closed, and all I can see is her blank stare as she’s lowered into the bath like a doll.

“Please,” I whisper.

The warmth of the Otherworld is fading. Danu slipping away. “Caedmon broke his oath,” she says. “This is simply the consequence of his choices.”

“She needs him, and Faerie needs her. You know that!” I shout after her, desperation tinging my tone as my hands fumble to find my head. “Goddess, please. Just listen?—”

Damn it. She’s getting farther away. I can feel her absence like a breath of fresh air.

Desperation pulses in my veins, and I finally manage to make my fingers work. I face her at last, my eyes going wide as I yell, “I’ll make a bargain!”