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Forty-Nine

Rhoswyn

T he healers working on my wings are kind.

I’m lying on my front to allow them to work on the stubby remains of my wings with their fleeting touches and warm humming energy. They apologise endlessly for the torment I can’t feel as they funnel me full of magic, keeping their words soft as they glide around my garden room.

Sickbed voices, full of unsaid things and soothing platitudes. Goddess. How I loathe them. Occasionally, I catch a meaningful glance sent in Lore’s oblivious direction. I hate it, but I don’t have the energy to protest.

It’s easier to just sleep, falling into oblivion rather than deal with what’s going on around me.

I hide in dreams where Caed and Drystan are whole and healthy, and my bonds are vibrant in my chest.

In that strange space between waking and sleeping, Danu is there, promising me peace, thanking me for the sacrifices I’ve made, feeding me her energy when I’m too tired to take it for myself. I don’t know how long passes. Days? Hours?

All I can focus on is the haunting echo of the pure adoration Caed sent down the bond before he?—

My drifting comes to an abrupt, jarring halt when my chest cracks open.

I bolt up from my bed without even fully opening my eyes, blindly reaching out as I stumble in the direction of the tug. My wings flutter weakly on my back, trying to propel me forward, but only one side responds as it should, and they just end up forcing me off balance.

“Dragonfly, what…?” Bree asks, and I belatedly realise I’ve fallen into him, where he was curled up on a chair. I’m completely naked, slathered in a pungent herbal mixture, and trembling.

Still, I have to go. “I have to—Caed is?—”

“Caed’s gone, pretty pet.” Lore blinks in front of me with sympathetic eyes, but a strong pair of arms shoves him aside.

Drystan’s headless body crouches before me, the pale morning light trying its hardest to erase the shadows gathered above his neck and failing. His glowing golden eyes are the first thing I manage to really focus on, and I cling to him with desperate hands.

“Something is happening,” I whisper, though he won’t hear me. “I need to go.”

I don’t know what it is, or how I know, but Danu is urging me north, and the pain…

What was once a void, a numb place where my mating bond should be, is lit up and scalding like lava.

As crazy as it is, the dullahan seems to understand, because he hands me to my redcap and points in the direction I was heading.

“You want me to blink her?” Lore cocks his head to one side. “Eh, why not?”

“I’ll let Jaro know what’s going on,” Bree says, resignation and caution battling in his tone. “Get her something to wear and be careful with her. She’s not healed enough for this.”

The redcap simply rolls his eyes in response, his arms wrapping around my middle. “Off on an ill-advised adventure, then, pet?”

I nod, swallowing as I try to work out how to make my voice work. “Danu wants me to go north. It’s not far, but it’s urgent.”

And hope, that fragile, cursed emotion, is fluttering cautiously alongside the suffering that I now recognise isn’t my own.

Because this… this feels big. The Goddess seems almost smug as Lore hastily tugs a loose wraparound dress over my body, avoiding touching my back at all.

The first blink isn’t far enough, and I clutch Lore’s arms, ignoring the hills around us.

“North,” I insist.

The next blink lands us at the bank of a vast river. “No. Too far.”

It becomes a tense kind of game, until finally, it isn’t any more. I sink to my knees beside a patch of dead grass nestled in a lonely misty moor, my fingers sinking into the ground.

“Here,” I whisper.

Lore stares at me like I’ve lost my mind.

Maybe I have. I’m digging through the dirt with my bare hands. We’re completely alone, with no one for miles, and yet…

The dead patch is expanding, collapsing. My redcap pulls me back just as the ground begins to fall away and a cave entrance reveals itself.

Danu halts me when I try to scrabble into the gap. My gut revolting in reprimand.

“What in the Goddess’ name?” Lore mumbles as something deep in the crevice moves.

A familiar, tattooed blue arm claws over the edge, shaking with exertion, and I let out a sob torn from the depths of my soul.

Lore blinks forward, dragging Caed from the cave as I kneel in the wet grass, my heartbeat thudding in my ears as our mating bond flares bright, restored to its original glory.

My Fomorian’s free hand is tangled in a mass of dark, messy braids, which he only releases once they’re clear of the entrance.

“You’ve left our mate in the dirt, redcap,” Drystan scolds, his voice shaky as his head is dropped unceremoniously to the ground. “And where’s her cloak? Forget about the damned Fomorian and get her somewhere warm.”

Caed groans. “Fuck you, head. Redcap, don’t you dare let go. I can’t feel my fucking legs.”

That’s the final straw for my relieved, exhausted psyche. My fingers tingle, spine slumping as my body follows my mind into unconsciousness.

It isn’t until much later, when I’m bundled in blankets, cradled on Caed’s lap beside the fireplace, tracing my symbol on his palm with reverent fingers, that Drystan deigns to explain.

Goddess, I still can’t get used to the sight of him leaning against the mantle so casually, lit by the flames, his braids and golden eyes exactly as they always were.

“When you lost your bond, I made a somewhat brash decision,” he begins, and Lore cackles from his perch on the back of Caed’s chair.

“Brash? I thought Winter Court fae didn’t know the meaning of the word.”

Drystan rolls his eyes. “Shut it, redcap. I’m not explaining this a second time.”

I missed this so much. I’m wearing Lore’s hat, the warmth of it comforting after a heavy few days, and I tug it a little closer around my ears as I wait for my dullahan to continue.

“I… regretted my inability to break Caed’s curse. Seeing what it did to you both was unpleasant.”

Goddess, it’s obvious that admitting to two feelings in as many sentences is killing him, but I hold back my smile through sheer force of will.

I’m still waiting for the axe to drop. For him to tell me this isn’t real, or that Caed’s return is just some trick.

“I went to seek Archie’s counsel, and then I tried to force my way into the Otherworld to seek an audience with the Goddess.”

Jaro sits up straighter on the chair opposite, and Bree’s wings rustle nervously.

“That’s got to be some kind of blasphemy,” the púca murmurs.

“Danu was… unimpressed,” Drystan admits. “But she agreed to bargain. My head would remain in her keeping for all eternity, and in exchange, she’d restore Caed’s bond to Rose, at first only partially. If he killed Elatha, he’d be granted a place in her Guard again, but the curse would be restored as well. I have until next Beltaine to trust the Fomorian.”

My fingers trail up the knotwork on Caed’s arm, sighing in relief to find all four frames full and darker than ever.

The only thing holding my dullahan back was that Elatha held Caed’s name. Now that’s no longer an issue, the curse should be lifted. The rose on his pectoral is in full bloom, the petals vibrant and alive across his blue skin, defended by the six swords surrounding it.

I send the question to Danu, searching for reassurance, and receive another smug, happy burst of power in answer.

Caed is free.

“That doesn’t explain how you got your head back,” Jaro says gruffly.

Drystan shrugs. “It was a condition of the bargain. Should Caed die before his immortality was restored, my head would be returned.”

And because both happened simultaneously, the Goddess chose to be merciful. My eyes burn, and I squirm, trying to bury myself inside his rib cage, checking on our bond compulsively at the same time.

Caed’s feelings of gratitude and unworthiness hit first, followed by his confusion and relief. The overwhelming combination tightens my chest.

“You lucky fucking bastard,” he mutters under his breath, and I don’t think I’m imagining the tiny hitch in his voice.

“Danu didn’t have to honour both,” Bree agrees. “You must not have pissed her off too badly.”

“It took balls to bargain with the Goddess herself.” Jaro is shaking his head like he can’t believe what he’s heard. “Even the redcap isn’t that mad.”

“It’s not a competition,” Lore whines. “Hey, dullahan, let me play with the whip? Just one time?”

“Absolutely not.” Drystan pinches the bridge of his nose. “Look, I don’t think we should tell anyone about this. Let the people believe Caed’s resurrection is a sign of favour from the Goddess—which it is —rather than telling them that the Lord of the Wild Hunt has the power to petition Danu.”

I nod, seeing the wisdom in that. “We’ll tell Kitarni and Prae, but that’s all.”

Caed runs his fingers down my spine. “I’m still so sorry for what I did,” he repeats, for what must be the third time. “Do they hurt?”

The damp filaments of my regrown wings twitch. They’re shorter on my right-hand side, but the healers promise that they’ll be as good as new in the next few days. My mates have been ridiculously careful not to touch them, and even now Caed’s fingers skirt the new panels.

“They itch,” I eventually answer. “But they’re healing.”

“You were not to blame,” Drystan tells my Fomorian, surprising me. “It was a risk we all took bringing you with us.”

Caed isn’t done. “You shouldn’t have bargained for me.”

“I didn’t do it for you,” my dullahan’s rebuke is instant, but his face softens. “Although, I’ve come to realise I don’t actively despise you as much as I once did.”

“I think he’s been head-swapped,” Lore whispers conspiratorially to me. “That’s three emotions and a declaration of love to the Fomorian. Danu either rattled his brains or sent you an upgrade.”

Of course, a second after he finishes speaking, his eyebrows catch fire.

I leave him to blink away—likely in search of something to put the flames out—then push out of Caed’s arms, taking shaky steps until I’m wrapped in Drystan’s.

“Thank you,” I murmur into his shirt.

He stiffens, hand coming up to cup my nape in a move that’s all scorching dominance. “Stop. Thanking. Fae.”

Beneath his irritation, the bond between us smoulders with love and heat.

“I guess you’ll just have to spank me for it later,” I retort, then tack on, “Master.”

His lips crash down on mine, making me melt against him. “The second you’re healed,” he promises as he pulls back, fingers digging into my ass. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten the way you burned yourself on my fire, abandoned the plan, and flew over a room full of Fomorians.”

Whoops. And he hasn’t even found out about the little stunt Danu pulled as we entered Fellgotha yet.