Page 128

I stared, dumbstruck, at the beads in front of me. I hadn’t known any of those things. I didn’t know any of the little things that had happened while I was dying in the backroom of this very temple.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked in a voice as thin as rain-soaked tissue paper.

“Would it have mattered, dear one? Would you have treated him any different? Would he have treated you any different? Would either of you have reacted to each other in any other way?” Her hand slid across the table and took mine, squeezing. The warmth of her skin flooded into the chill of mine. “Your fate is your own, dear one. A fate I can merely sit by and watch unfold. I cannot interfere with the hearts and minds of my flock. I can but heal your wounds and celebrate your joys.”

“Do you know?” I asked, looking from her hand to meet her eyes.

I could feel the tears gathering at the edges of my vision.

She tilted her head at me, an enigmatic emotion fluttering in the depths of her wine-soaked eyes. “I know many things, sweet girl. The gods whisper secrets to me all day every day. Some things come to pass, some things are merely the rumors of the wind. Some will never come to pass, simple potential left to rot on the vine.”

I nodded, understanding, even though she was doing her best not to say it. She knew more than she would ever admit to and more than was wise of me to admit even now. To speak the words into the air would make them solid weapons that could be wielded against the two of us. It was better that we had a silent understanding between us and let the truths go unwhispered.

The wind carried rumors and truth just as easily.

She squeezed my hand and then brought it up to her lips to press a tender kiss to my knuckles. “I hear that you have met my cousin?”

And just like that, the sullen mood of an unspoken goodbye, of sorrows shared and kept silent, of deeds kept in darkness and shadow was shattered and levity returned to us.

Chapter 42

Ard Tiarna Emrys of Breacadh an Lae, The Raven of the Dawn

Ihad tolerated this farce for too long. I had accepted every step of this bullshit dance with too much grace, and I was all out of grace to spare.

My palm slammed against the copper doors as I stalked my prey. He may be in bed, half mad with weakness and the stubborn venom coursing through his body, but he would hear me, and I would be done with this.

Cricket was avoiding me. I had not seen her in so long I was starting to forget what the heat of her skin burning up the air around me felt like. All I could feel, all I could focus on was the vacuum in the air when she was not next to me. Every hair on my body, every inch of my skin ached to feel the pulse of her heart pressing against the air around us. She could simply sit in an empty room with me, and I would be content at this point.

And her note had only solidified that that would not be changing any time soon.

I had given her time, had given her space. Whatever had happened down in the darkness, she had not told me the whole of it yet, and I could feel the strangeness on her the last time I saw her.

She felt like a contradiction in my arms again. The way her presence responded to the inherent magical currents all around us felt different. She felt both more solid than she had ever been before and more ephemeral. Once I had seen past the sorrow hanging about her like curtains on a window, the sense that, at any moment, she would evaporate into mist itself, had scared me. I had known only one other creature in all my long life that felt that way. And I had met him only once before he was murdered.

The door to the Ard Rí’s room was open a crack, and I heard voices mixed in heated debate. I didn’t care who it was. They could leave as quick as they could shut up.

I made no pretense of civility nor grace when I stormed into the room. It had changed since the last time I had been in this room speaking to this asshole about the same topic. The low bed of silk grass had been removed and a more traditional higher bed had been raised in its place. He had not yet gained his legs, but the hope was that, when he did, the elevated position would assist him in gaining strength back.

My eye focused on the pale, gaunt figure that was once the hale, hearty mighty hero of the Spring. And his harpy of a sister. Twin sets of eyes raised from their intimate moment to take me in, her aghast that I might have walked in on something and him bold as brass, uncaring as to whether I knew a damned thing.

So, Cricket was right. They were fucking. No Fae leaned that close to his sibling. No lover let a look like the one they had been sharing pass between their beloved and another go unchallenged.

I didn’t give a shit, though. Who either of them fucked was not my concern.

“Oh, good. You’re both here.”

The rich timber of my voice held the sabers I felt within me rattling.

“My lov—” The Oaken Rose started, putting on the air of the devoted and besotted fiancée she was supposed to be.

“Save it,” I barked back at her.

“Raven, you will show my sister the respect demanded of you as her betrothed while in my presence.”

His voice had lost its bite, its power. He was withering away day by day, like a rotted bloom on a vine.

“I will show her the respect of a Banfhlaith of the court and nothing more.” I crossed my arm over my chest, resting my fingers below my shoulder, and bowed slightly to her. “Your Royal Highness.”