Cirevan said, “Shall I bring forth the herald?”
I nodded. The herald—a young fae—came forward, and I asked him to extend his bone horn. He did so with uncertain eyes, and I took it up from him. I set the horn to my lips and I rode my horse in a large, restless loop before the gatehouse.
My rage coursed. But I didn’t want more of these people to die.
“King Rhodric,” I said, the horn amplifying my voice until it caromed off the buildings and walls. “Come forth, set your sword against mine. Come forth, defend your people. Come forth, show your face. Or are you too craven to look upon a queen?”
I repeated the words—again, again, again. I trotted my horse outside the gatehouse and declared the king’s cowardice to their sun god until I was certain even the smallest child was embarrassed for his sovereign.
Finally, two shadowed forms appeared atop the wall, one standing and one kneeling. The sun lay behind them, and I squinted up from my horse. I could not make them out, could not…
A cloud passed over the sun. The two forms becameclear.
One of the men was the king, his familiar horned iron helmet atop his head and his sunlit iron armor glinting. In his hand an iron chain dangled. I followed the links to the kneeling figure beside him, whose hands were manacled in front of him.
He wore his own iron helm, but this one was different, more like a skullcap. A cruel mechanical device circled his eyes, which were prized so far open they looked perfectly round.
But I knew that form, those hands, those shoulders under the filthy shirt he wore. I knew that jaw, those lips.
It wasmylover.
It was Dorian.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
For a gleaming moment,I became Eurydice. Only Eurydice.
Of course. Of course it would be Dorian atop that wall. This was atrial, after all, and I was a fool to think I wouldn’t encounter him in it.
But I’d hoped not. Especially not like this.
Up there, manacled, the sight of him made my chest tighten and expand at once. Rage warred with ache. I hated him. A murderer. A betraying bastard. A low-down Unseelie. I still saw him standing there behind Rhiannon like he hadn’t held me in his arms the night before. Like he hadn’t kissed me. Like he hadn’t been inside me. Like he hadn’t kept his murderous mouth shut all the while.
And yet.
Maybe it was Carys’s feeling for her lover. Maybe it was thatthingon his head. He was dirty, beaten; bruises peeked from under his torn shirt and blood spattered across his chest. Maybe it was the fierce, communal love I felt for the fae who fought beside me.
The longer I spent in this trial, the harder it was for me to distinguish between Carys and Eurydice. And the less I cared.
His eyes shifted down. Dorian’s eyes. They seemed to find me—not Carys, but me, Eury. And what I read there nearly ruined me.
This was no trial. For him, it was just suffering.
My heart pulled toward him.That’s Carys’s heart, not yours.I hated him. And still: I had to save him. I had to free him, to get him away from these degenerate humans.
“Queen Carys.” The king’s voice boomed, baritone; he needed no horn. “You have strayed far from your home. Far from the source of your power. That was a mistake.”
I swung the horse back around for another loop, keeping my eyes on him. “Power? You hide behind walls and Phoros, and one now lies in rubble behind me. And your sunlit iron?” I trotted the horse toward a dead guard, bent low over the horse’s neck, and grabbed up his fallen short sword. It gleamed with sunlit purity, untarnished and unbloodied.
I brought the horse back around, unsheathed my dagger, and set the two blades against one another. They hissed on contact, the sound animal and high-pitched. Cold steam appeared, crawled up the length of the sunlit short sword until it was encompassed.
I drew the two blades apart, one in each hand. The short sword now bore a dark hue—the same as my dagger. “Your iron—every bit of it—is mine. And if you do not yield, I shall kill you with it.”
The king scoffed, the sound harsh and echoing over the buildings. “Feyreign will never forget this day.”
He was defeated, yet he taunted me like all humans did. My horse continued pacing, and I kept my eyes on the king and Dorian through every turn. “Stand down, Rhodric. Open the gatehouse, send out my consort, and pray to your gods to build you a better wall.”
Silence fell for a beat, two—and then the king burst into laughter. His armor glinted even under cloud cover. “Pray?Pray?”
