Page 55 of Atop the Faerie Throne (The Fifth Nicnevin #5)

Fifty-Four

Rhoswyn

Some months later, at Samhain…

I did very well at blocking the reality of what was to come tonight from my mind. Until now.

The Wild Hunt is just as loud as I remember. The column of skeletal painted horses is the same as it was last year, and the cawing and snarling of valravne and barghests undercuts their snorts in the cold sky air as we ride.

But this hunt is different.

This hunt… is goodbye.

My hands fist in Blizzard’s mane as the spirits drift towards us from Elfhame City. It’s our final stop, and I think Drystan planned it that way for the same reason he ensured Calimnel was first.

His mother and Cedwyn tried to fight their way out of this, only to be dragged up with us by the barghests. Now they’re somewhere at the back of the host, silent only thanks to the threat of Drystan’s whip, which curls slow and smouldering by his side as we wait with the rest of the gathered spirits above the city.

“Jaromir and Bricriu,” Drystan begins, and I turn to look at his head, which is hanging from the saddle. “Suggested that you might need… comfort.”

I can’t help the bittersweet laugh that breaks free. “Did they now?”

His arms leave the reins, wrapping around my middle carefully. “Yes. I set their arses on fire for the insult.” He pauses, one thumb stroking my belly through my dress. “Are you… prepared?”

Nodding gets a lot harder when the familiar black-and-silver fox streaks into the air, following my white barghest towards us without hesitation. My breath escapes on a reedy, thin noise that I barely manage to quell before Wraith and Bram reach us.

The fox surprises both of us by leaping into my arms, and my breath hitches.

I’ve deliberately tried not to summon him until yesterday, when I offered Caed and my other brothers one last chance to say goodbye. Death’s finality is as universal as it is painful for a reason. As Nicnevin, I can’t afford to dwell with the dead while the living depend on me.

Besides, this isn’t a goodbye. Not really. I’ll see him again, when the time is right.

My fingers soothe through his fur as the rest of the spirits follow. Some willing, some not. I see them all. Ascal, Ghislane, Merith, Kendel, and so many others lost in the war. The host is vast this year.

And for the first time, there are Fomorians amongst their number, just as there were when we crossed the Endless Sea.

Just thinking about the scores of fae spirits we brought back with us from Fellgotha makes my heart twist. Some of them had been there for thousands of years. At least now, they can finally find the same peace that the rest of the realm has been granted.

Annis rides up, her creepy head tilting in a nod that lets Drystan know we’re done. The host is exhausted, as am I, and I lean back into my mate’s strength.

With a nudge of his heels, he spurs Blizzard higher, into the dark and cloudy sky, valravne cawing all around us. It’s not long enough. Time seems to speed up, pressing on my chest as I wait for what I know is coming.

Blizzard rears, but I no longer fear being unseated as I did the last time this happened. The horse’s whinny joins the drumming and cawing of the birds, Wraith lending his own howl to the rest of the barghests’ a half-second before it all stops.

That whip of flame and bone cracks through the darkness, the strike against the veil reverberating through my body like a blow. Just as before, the night sky ripples and tears, revealing the glowing entrance to the Otherworld in all its glory.

This time, the scent of meadows and sunshine is tainted with the taste of salt.

I’m crying, even though I said I wouldn’t.

Bram’s fox-face shimmers as he dismounts, shifting back to his fae form as the rest of the spirits make for the entrance. His cheeks crease into a smile as he looks into the distance, but his face is as wet as mine.

“Goddess bless, little sister,” he finally says, bowing slightly. “Until we meet again.”

“Hug our parents for me,” I reply, proud that there’s only a fine tremor in my voice.

A high fae female with black hair and bright turquoise blue eyes stops beside him, her face somehow familiar, despite my never having met her before. Bram takes her hand, kissing it softly, and they both look back and then down at the city below one last time, before taking that final step across the threshold together.

The tear in the veil seals, stealing the sweetness from the air. The cold autumn wind returns, stinging my wet cheeks, and Drystan’s arms clench a little tighter around my waist. The rest of the host turns, beginning the ride back to the Sanctuary, and then home, but we remain, unmoving, with Wraith loyally glued to Blizzard’s side.

“If you look too sad, the redcap has plans to present you with a bunch of severed toes on your return,” my dullahan informs me. “He’s speared them onto arrows, painted the nails red, and arranged them into a bouquet.”

“Are you trying to make me feel better by telling me there are dead feet in my future?”

Our bond is thrumming with his concern. “I’m merely warning you, should you feel the need to brace yourself.” One of his hands leaves my waist, digging into his pocket before presenting me with a crisp white handkerchief. “Or you could take this, attend to your face before we leave, and hope that he doesn’t deem such dire measures necessary. I would set the awful thing on fire, but I don’t know that the stench would be much better.”

I giggle, despite myself, and he relaxes as I take the tiny square of fabric. “No need,” I promise, cleaning my face. “It’s sweet, really.”

I’m just grateful that Wraith will happily eat most of the severed body parts before I have to find a vase or something to display them.

“Damned redcap,” he mutters under his breath, finally nudging Blizzard after the rest of the hunt. “If I had known this latest phase of his was going to last this long, I would’ve asked Danu to keep my head to spare me from the stink.”

There’s a pause, and my mind flashes to the image of Bram and the fae female crossing the veil together.

“If you wish to talk about it,” Drystan says, humour dissipating. “I’ll listen.”

I have a sneaking suspicion that Jaro or Bree told him to say that, but I don’t mind. “It will get easier, with time,” I say at last. “Let’s go home.”

The relief that echoes through the bond as Blizzard hastens to catch up with the host prompts me to turn and press my face against his chest in a silent hug. Drystan truly could not be more out of his depth when it comes to my emotions, but he tries, and that’s worth just as much.

I didn’t think that sleep would come easily, but sometime in the middle of the cloudy ride home, I lose the fight to keep my eyes open.

The clatter of hooves on stone and the gentle hum of chatter jolts me awake with a start.

“Go back to sleep,” Drystan murmurs, keeping me in place with one arm while carefully replacing his head with the other. “I’ll take you up to bed.”

All around us, members of the host are slowly dismounting, caught in conversation. The odd few disappear as soon as they can, but the Hunt is definitely more social this year. I want to insist that he stay, but he spoke with most of them before we rode, and I’ve been away from the others for too long already.

I try to do as he asks, but there’s no sleeping through the drowning feeling of being returned to Elfhame, so by the time we reappear in the palace courtyard, I’m fully alert.

Jaro’s arms reach up to take me from the saddle, his lips kissing my forehead.

“You okay?” he asks, lowering me until my feet find solid ground.

I suck in a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “I will be. It was hard, but I knew it would be. That helped.”

Jaro kisses me again, before I’m blinked from his arms.

“He’s hogging you.” Lore complains.

“Your definition of hogging would benefit from some self-reflection.” Drystan slips from Blizzard’s back. “Considering that your last date took her away from the rest of us for two days.”

Bree’s hands unfasten the buckle at my shoulder, drawing away the heavy cloak that’s stifling now that we’re no longer in the air. He presses a kiss to my neck in a silent welcome home.

“Pet, I need your opinion,” Lore continues, ignoring everyone else. “Do you think I should get my pearls enlarged?”

I choke on air, meeting his earnest red stare. “Why would you do that? Your pearls are wonderful.”

“Yes, but I counted, and the dullahan has more metal than I have pearls. The wolf’s dick is freakishly large, and with Bree’s ability to split his in two, I’m only one step above the Fomorian.”

“Hey,” Caed snarls, kidnapping me from the redcap with a glare. “We are not ranking our fucking cocks.”

“When exactly did you find time to count my piercings?” Drystan demands, as I slap a hand over my mouth.

“Look, it’s not like you bother covering them up, and I’m just saying, the only thing the Fomorian’s has going for it is the unusual colour,” Lore nods. “Rose’s next fever is in a few years, and I don’t want to be outdone.”

“Lore, your pearls are wonderful,” I interrupt. “Please leave them alone. And… wait. Splits in two?!”

My head whips around to Bree, seeking confirmation of the absolute insanity I just managed to process. My púca’s ears twitch, his cheeks flushing.

“Erm… well… it’s not something I’d ever…” he stammers. “I showed him the most shocking one to shut him up. The other two are much less?—”

“Other two?” My voice is getting higher pitched by the second. “How many cocks do you have?”

Caed squeezes my shoulders. “My dick is not fucking last.”

“We are not having this discussion.” Jaro wades into the middle of the argument. “She’s tired.”

“The distraction is good for her,” Lore argues.

“Not. The. Time.” Jaro lets a little snarl bleed into his voice, grabbing me from Caed and swinging me into his arms.

“You’re just saying that because he didn’t put you in last place!” the Fomorian protests, following us. “Besides, why is he ranking us? Surely that’s Rose’s job.”

“None of you are in last place!” I say, hoping to end the tension as I try in vain to crane my neck and look behind us. “I love all of you and your cocks equally. Now can someone please explain to me how my mate has four extra ones that I didn’t know about? Or is it three?”

I didn’t make eye contact with any of them, so the charm is wasted, and all I achieve for my efforts is a tiny, amused headshake from Jaro.

“I can shift my anatomy,” Bree finally says. “I have three animals. You already know I can alter my body to be more like theirs.”

Yes, in theory. I’ve seen him with snake pupils, feathered wings, and cat ears almost daily. And every so often he’ll shift his tongue while feasting on my pussy just because he says it lets him taste me better. But his cock ?

“It’s a party trick,” Bree continues. “I’ve never… I mean, high fae don’t like the animal parts of púcaí?” He says the last like it’s a question.

“But they work!” Lore crows, blinking in front of us and kidnapping me again. “And you could fuck our mate with them, if she asked. Which is why I need to?—”

“No,” I object as we reappear in my bedroom, alone. “Your cock is perfect. Unless you dislike it, don’t change it.” I pause, wiggling until he puts me down.

A whoosh of air hits my back, and I turn to look at Bree as he lands. “I’m sorry if you didn’t want to talk about it… I know that was probably private.”

“So private that he flashed all of us without even buying us dinner first,” Lore comments, kissing my ear.

“I wasn’t hiding it.” Bree shrugs, stepping forward until he’s caging me in from the front. “But it’s not something I think of often.”

“Come on , púca,” Lore dismays. “Don’t tell me you’ve not thought of the possibilities.”

Bree’s pupils dilate for a second before he looks away, telling me that he has considered it.

“If it’s something you want,” I whisper, tiptoeing up to kiss his lips. “Then I’d love to try. But it can wait.”

I know he’s still working on getting over the negative way that so many of his previous ‘clients’ spoke about his animal traits, and I’ll spend the rest of our lives reassuring him that I love every single part of him.

He nods, looking past me to the vista below. “We have time.”

I follow his gaze, heart soaring at last as the rising dawn peers through the clouds, glinting off rooftops. It’s been six months since the city fell. Broken buildings have been mended, the people have returned, and my home is finally nearly back to how it was.

Better, even.

Prae’s idea to use rebuilding the wall as an opportunity to extend the inner city and create a Fomorian Quarter worked wonders. Many of the refugees chose to remain, rather than go back to life in Fellgotha. They’ve brought with them their inventions and forges, switching from iron to ‘soft fairy metals’ with only minor grumbles. Some of them have found their mates, and while it hasn’t been entirely smooth sailing, every single day brings us closer to harmony.

The rest of my mates make it to the top of the stairs, joining us. Jaro is the first to coax me away from the horizon, towards the soft comfort of bed, and I’m exhausted enough to let him.

I fall asleep surrounded by the five of them, dreaming of peace, or as close to it as Faerie will ever come.

After all, the lives of fae are long and prone to boredom.