Vines of ivy wrapped around Cathbad’s head like a crown and snaked down clumps of clean brown hair streaked with dark blond. He wore a leather doublet the color of freshly tilled soil and matching breeches with boots as hardy as tree bark. In his free hand, he held a staff carved from gnarled wood with a crook shaped like a wizened old man.
“Are you listening to me?” growled the druid.
“No,” Osmos replied without looking up from his parchment. “But you are free to continue your rant.”
Cathbad snarled a litany of complaints about his meals, his clothes, his accommodations. Annoyance tightened my skin. Less than a week ago, he was a mindless slave, toiling for wicked faeries. What did it take to satisfy this surly druid? He continued his complaints, punctuating them with demands for Osmos’ attention.
Rosalind and Captain Maith snarled back, but Osmos raised his hand. “Allow him to speak.”
I turned to Drayce and scowled, but he grinned. My eyes narrowed. If it was his continuation of an argument we once had about greedy humans making one-sided bargains with faeries, I wasn’t interested. While faeries didn’t tell direct lies, they knew how to phrase and omit truths to their advantage.
Breaking away from Drayce’s smug expression, I crossed the room, passing a pair of ivory sofas embroidered with gold thread. Aengus lay on the nearest one, snoring softly, the color returning to his cheeks. A large bottle of mead lay nestled between him and the sofa cushion. The sun brought out the highlights in his golden curls, making their strands look as bright as Crom Cruach’s molten form.
My chest lightened at the sight of him looking so well.
Next to his sofa was a low table decorated with a vase of white peonies mingled with soft, pink roses next to a delicate, rose-patterned tea set consisting of eight cups, a steaming teapot, a milk jug, and bowls of sugar. Gold rimmed the mouths of each item and covered each of their handles.
Osmos rose from his seat, his eyes wide. “Your Majesty, I was not expecting you back so soon.”
Rosalind turned her violet eyes away from Cathbad. “Shall I call for a vehicle to take us to the Summer Court?”
“We’re going through the door that leads to all the Courts,” I said.
She took her hand off the sword hilt and rubbed her chin. “Are you sure, Your Majesty? Only Queen Pressyne could use it.”
Drayce appeared at my side. “The Fear Dorcha sent Erin from the Summer Court to open that door,” he said. “She had a sigil that would activate it with Queen Neara’s blood.”
Rosalind paled and dropped her gaze to a frowning Osmos.
I continued toward the desk and stopped at Cathbad’s side, placing a hand on its wooden surface. “He’s expecting me to cower in the palace or attack from the perimeter of the Summer Court. I’m going to strike now, and take him by surprise.”
Captain Maith straightened. “Allow me to accompany you, Majesty.”
“I need you and Osmos to take care of the palace,” I said. “Did you question the three people I described?”
The male nodded, his shoulders sagging. “Yes, Your Majesty. They all came on the orders of the Fear Dorcha to capture or incapacitate you.”
I clenched my teeth. “Why doesn’t he come and get me himself?”
Drayce appeared from behind and patted my shoulder. “The only way to defeat the Queen of the Faeries in her own palace is through trickery or the brute strength of the Fomorians. It’s good for us that the Fear Dorcha is capable of neither.”
Cathbad rose and stared down at me with his blond brows furrowed into a scowl. His amber eyes met mine without a hint of fear.
I tilted my head to the side and met his hawkish gaze, wondering if Father had looked like that during his time as a practicing druid. The father I knew was kind, good natured, and appreciative of what little we had. Unlike Cathbad, Father had spent his thousand years of servitude awake and suffering the attentions of Melusina.
Cathbad’s head tilted, mirroring my posture.
Hardening my gaze, I asked, “Do you have something to say?”
He raised his chin. “Osmos tells me you seek strong warriors.”
“I do.” Eyes narrowing, I waited for him to name his price.
“I will join you on condition that you allow me to serve as your royal druid.”
Resisting the urge to glance at Drayce or Osmos for approval, I inclined my head. “We’ll see how you perform on this mission.”
Drayce clapped his hands together. “That makes five.”
Osmos cleared his throat, and I broke my gaze from the druid’s to meet the bright, blue eyes of my secretary.
“I took the liberty of moving Pyrenaica to less hostile accommodations.” Osmos lowered himself to his seat and clenched his hands so tightly that his knuckles turned white.
His elbows pressed into his sides as though he wanted to make himself smaller. He swallowed several times with his gaze fixed on the parchment, seeming to weather himself against the wrath of a predator. After a moment of not elaborating, he peered up at me through his white lashes.
My brows drew together. He had been perfectly calm during Cathbad’s grumbling, yet he seemed afraid of me. I glanced at Drayce, who shook his head. Now it was my turn to swallow. Why in the name of all that was holy would I mind if someone got a better room in the palace?
“Who are you talking about?” I asked.
“The oak sprite,” Osmos whispered.
“The sprite who stabbed me through the heart with a needle?” asked Drayce.
Osmos dipped his chin into a soft nod.
My lips tightened with annoyance. Not at Osmos, but at myself. If it wasn’t for his intervention, that little creature would have remained in an iron cage for days without food or water or a place to sleep.
Cathbad growled. “Osmos is trying his best.”
I returned
