Calder’s earthen prison exploded outward, and if Torquil hadn’t pulled air to him like a shield, they would all have been knocked to the ground by the force.
“Bitch!” Calder’s blade swept upward into the falcone position, the sword raised high like a bird of prey waiting to strike. In the next moment, he swung on a downward diagonal that would very likely be a fatal strike.
Before he could touch her, Calder’s sword was knocked away by Nacton. “Stop. We are done here. I have said my piece, and that one”—he nodded at Eilidh—“understands that her time is limited.”
Rhys tensed at Eilidh’s side, but he merely said, “The queen will not take this kindly when she hears of it.”
“That matters little to me,” Calder said. “She is no mother or queen to me, and the king won’t let her strike us—else it would’ve happened the first time we attacked you.”
“Stop,” Nacton ordered his brother. He might not be reasonable, but he understood that there were limits to how far they could push the Queen of Blood and Rage.
Calder turned and stormed off, leaving Nacton alone with them.
Eilidh met her Seelie brother’s gaze and vowed, “I have no need of enmity between us, but there will be if you harm or cause Torquil and Rhys to be harmed.”
“I think you misunderstand the role of guards,” Nacton said.
She shook her head. “Don’t be droll, Nacton. I know their roles, but I am also my mother’s daughter. Injuring those who are mine, those I love, would necessitate my showing you exactly how much of the queen’s blood propels this broken body. I can be as calm as our father . . . until harm comes to my loved ones.”
None of the three fae spoke for a moment. Eilidh kept her Seelie brother’s gaze until Nacton nodded and said, “The warning is noted.”
Once he left, Eilidh turned to Rhys and Torquil.
Rhys stared at her with something akin to hope on his face. If he were any other fae, she might even suggest there was fear in his eyes. When he realized she was staring at him, he straightened his features into their usual implacable mask, but his words belied his mien. “Love, sister? How did you form such an extreme lie without pain?”
“There was no lie, Rhys.” Eilidh reached out and squeezed her brother’s forearm. “You are my brother, and I love you—as I love Mother, and Lilywhite, and Father.”
Rhys said nothing.
“Your son could love you too,” she added. “He was unsettled tonight, but what else could he do? Your blood runs in him. Mother’s blood. Ours is not a family known to respond gracefully to surprises.”
Torquil coughed in what she was sure was an attempt to hide a laugh. Eilidh smiled softly at him. He knew her, and by extension, her brother better than most fae. Fortunately, that also meant that he wasn’t going to call attention to the truths he noticed—mostly because none of the queen’s descendants were receptive to such observations.
Instead of commenting, Torquil stayed silent at her side as they walked deeper into the Hidden Lands. The trees seemed to part as they walked, and Eilidh sent a whispered plea that they not do so. Her affinity with earth was strong enough that the plants often seemed to anticipate her needs, but she preferred to keep the extent of any of her affinities as private as she could. One never knew when unwanted witnesses were near.
“Perhaps we can discuss our plans tomorrow,” Rhys suggested when they reached her tower.
“Of course.”
Torquil stepped toward the tower, but when Eilidh moved to follow him, Rhys put a restraining hand on her shoulder.
“Love . . . No one has said that word to me before, sister. I will endeavor to be worthy.”
Impulsively, Eilidh hugged him, wrapped her arms around his statue-still body and squeezed as if she were comforting a small child. “You are already worthy, Rhys.”
He didn’t enclose her in his arms or move in any way. For all of his affect, she might as well have been hugging a tree—although with her affinity, the tree was more likely to embrace her in return.
After a moment, Rhys patted her shoulder and said, “And I . . . you, sister.”
Then he stepped away from her. He nodded at Torquil once and strode off toward the courtyard. She suspected her brother needed to vent anger from the ambush and hoped that there were participants aplenty willing to spar with him.
As they watched Rhys leave, Torquil wrapped his arms around her, and she leaned back against him. How much things had changed since the day he stepped onto the forbidden staircase! She felt less alone than ever in her life. She had her best friend as betrothed, her brother as friend, and her niece back in her life. If things didn’t go poorly, she might come to know Zephyr too.
“You realize that you just threatened two of your brothers and earned the undying devotion of the third,” Torquil said in a low voice. His arms stayed around her, and despite the attention they were drawing from the fae who always watched her and the tower, she felt no urge to move.
“I already had Rhys’ devotion,” she said just as quietly. “Now he knows he has mine as well.”
“And your other brothers?”
Eilidh turned to look over her shoulder at Torquil. “They deserved a fair warning. If they are so foolish as to strike out at us, I will kill them. I alone answer to no other fae. Would Father be pleased if his sons die? No, but I am the heir. I would not be sent to exile for it, and if I were”—she shrugged—“so be it.”
Torquil shook his head.
“Come,” she said, stepping out of his embrace. “I feel the need of a nap. Join me?”
Her betrothed gave her the sort of hungry look that she’d never thought to see directed at her.
“I always feel the need of sleep with you,” Torquil murmured and then he kissed her in full view of the watching fae.
When he pulled away, she laughed in sheer joy and tugged him into the tower to dream with her.
twenty-nine
ZEPHYR
Zephyr wasn’t entirely sure what happened after Lilywhite and Creed arrived at the Row House, but he woke up facedown inside the vat of soil in Alkamy’s sofa. Someone had obviously removed everything but his shorts. Soil covered his entire body, and he was grateful for the healing nourishment it offered. Despite spending what he guessed was hours burrowed into the earth, his head felt like it weighed an extra twenty pounds, and his mouth felt like something had died in it.
He rolled to his side, blinked burning eyes, and looked up to find Violet watching him. In a voice that sounded almost as bad as he felt, he rasped, “What are you doing here?”
“Babysitting.” She crossed her arms over her chest and leveled a disapproving stare at him. “We all took shifts, so Lily and Kamy could sleep without worrying that you were going to die of alcohol poisoning.”
“All?”
“Will, Roan, Creed, and me. Seriously, Zephyr, what were you thinking?”
She handed him a glass of water, which he gratefully accepted and sipped.
Voice less scratchy, he said, “I’m sorry you had to do that.”