Chapter 33
Thirty-Three
SENAN
After thirty minutes of breathing in the disgusting muck on my face, Josie permits me to take a shower. I hurry as quickly as possible, anxious to find Allette’s new tattoo. What would she have gotten? I scrub the bar of soap over my chest, the suds bubbling over her name. Imagine if she got “Senan” inked across her lovely arse.
The thought makes me scrub a little faster.
By the time I return to the living room, Allette has taken up residence on the armchair while Iver sits across from her, munching on one of Josie’s terrible biscuits, gawking at my girl’s profile as she watches the flames dance in the fireplace.
I can’t blame the lad for staring; she is a sight to behold.
Aeron steps into the room behind me, shouldering his pack.
Why does it look like he’s leaving?
Iver’s head swings toward us. “Where are you going?”
Aeron bares his teeth. “As if I’d tell you.”
Iver launches to his feet, what’s left of his biscuit tumbling to the floor. “You want to go, bird boy?”
Why is this man so mad for a fight?
Braith sweeps into the room, tucking her short hair behind her ear, her gray skirts swaying. “He will kill you, Iver. And think of how upset Mum will be when she finds out you’re dead.”
It’s true. Aeron doesn’t pull his punches—I found that out on more than one painful occasion. He has this fiery rage burning inside of him that keeps the masochistic bastard coming back for more. He nearly lost an arm during one training session, and still didn’t accept defeat. The guard sparring with him was the one to concede.
If only he had fought our brother with the same fire, perhaps his fate would have been different.
Iver folds his arms over his chest, tucking his hands beneath his armpits, his face twisted like he just bit into a lemon.
Maybe he’s smarter than he looks.
A knock on the front door breaks the tension in the room. Braith saunters over and proceeds to speak in low tones with the person. She glances over her shoulder at me. “It’s for you, Simon.”
How can the door be for me when everyone I know down here is in this burrow?
A woman I’ve never met before waits on the path, her bulging eyes peering from beneath her hooded cloak. One of the little boys from earlier hangs his head by her side, swiping his nose with his shirtsleeve.
“Did you give this to my son?” She thrusts a wooden sword toward me. Good thing the blade isn’t sharp; otherwise, she would’ve cut me with it.
“Yes?”
“Who the hell do you think you are?” she clips. “We are a people of peace. Are you trying to get my boy dragged off to the bloody guards?” The sword clatters at my feet. The little boy’s sobs make his shoulders shake.
Kyff would’ve been the very same if our mother had taken his weapons. “Of course not,” I say, but she’s already hauling him away by the arm, past a man carrying another wooden sword.
He speaks not a word, throwing the weapon at my feet and stalking back down the road. I’m not sure where they all come from, but men and women and a handful of children all return the swords until there’s a pile of play weapons outside Josie and Harold’s door.
Iver appears beside me, glancing down at the swords with his lips pressed into a flat line. “Told you that you’d get into right shit, didn’t I?”
He did say that, but I’m still confused as to why. “I don’t understand.”
“Ignorant pheasant,” he mutters, collecting an armful of swords and dumping them onto the living room floor. “Tuath who show any aptitude with a sword are forced to serve in the king’s guards.”
“So?” While I would never wish to be a guard myself, they’re paid handsomely and are given housing and meals in the barracks while they train. A man could do worse.
Iver blows out a breath, returning for another stack. “ So, do you know where the Tuath guards serve? On the front lines. We’re nothing more than fodder for Scathian cannons.”
I twist to find Aeron turning over one of the swords in his hand. “Did you know this?”
He shakes his head. Allette looks horrified while Braith appears nonplussed. Being Tuath, she would have known the rules, but I’m still in shock.
“That’s wrong.” So fucking wrong.
Iver dumps the last of the swords onto the pile and then closes the door, sliding the lock into place. “Welcome to life under the clouds. No weapons. No power. And no sunlight.”
I cannot believe I thought these people were content. I am an ignorant pheasant.
Braith steps around the pile to remove the fireguard. She picks up a sword and adds the weapon to the blazing logs within. Flames eat the wood, destroying the evidence of my ignorance.
“Has it always been this way?” I ask.
With a shake of his head, Iver hands Braith two more swords. “Just since our ‘benevolent’ king took the throne. The week after his coronation, he sent his guards around to the cities and villages collecting new recruits. Our best fighters were drafted and never heard from again.”
More swords are reduced to ash.
People should have the right to learn how to protect themselves. They shouldn’t be afraid of being forced to sacrifice their lives for a king who doesn’t care about them.
It would seem Boris has forgotten that he isn’t just the king of the Scathian fae but of the Tuath as well. Being born without wings doesn’t make someone “cannon fodder.”
“Simon?” My brother’s voice cuts through my muddled thoughts. He watches me with an unreadable expression. “I need to go back.”
Although I don’t want him to leave us, staying any longer might draw the king’s attention to this peaceful place. “I’ll walk you out.”
I follow my brother into the wider cavern, my stomach twisting with dread at having to say goodbye. “When you reach the castle, give Kyff a hug for me?” I hope he isn’t too traumatized after all that’s happened.
What I wouldn’t give to see him myself, to wrap him in my arms and keep any more harm from befalling him.
“I’m afraid I won’t see him. I’m going back to Stratiss.”
Wait. What? “You can’t go back yet.”
“I’ve been gone long enough. It’s time I return to my own kingdom. To my wife.”
“What about us? We’re supposed to go with you.” We haven’t even discussed our escape plan. How long has he known he was leaving? Why didn’t he tell us sooner? Maybe he won’t mind waiting for us to throw our things into a bag. We could be ready within the hour.
“In light of all that’s happened, I hoped you’d given our discussion some more thought.”
I have but my decision remains the same.
While my heart goes out to these people, what could I possibly do to change their future? Why should this be my responsibility? Haven’t we already sacrificed enough?
Even if we managed to remove Boris from power, becoming king would mean accepting the reality I’ve fought for so long: I have a wife and a kingdom waiting for me.
I’d rather the world think me dead and continue hiding in the shadows than give up my girl.
I steel my spine, steadfast in my decision. “Nothing has changed.”
Shaking his head, Aeron blows out a breath. “You are unbelievable. Do you have no sense of duty?”
I do, but I’m fucking terrified of everything that could go wrong if I were to ascend. I could be killed trying. I could be a shite king and let down not only everyone in my family but also everyone in the kingdom. It’s too much to ask of anyone, let alone someone like me. A man who couldn’t even deal with his own grief without drowning.
“My duty is to Allette alone.”
Aeron refuses to meet my gaze as he withdraws a heavy purse from his pack. “Then I suppose I’ll send word when I have arranged transport to Stratiss. Until then, stay here and keep out of trouble.” He twists toward the underground river and stomps away, leaving me feeling like a scolded child.
“What was Aeron talking about?”
I whirl, finding Allette in the doorway, her golden eyes dancing with fae light.
How long has she been standing there? How much did she hear? “Nothing important,” I say.
“It sounded important to me.”
This is neither the time nor the place for this conversation. “It’s chilly out here. Let’s go back inside.” To my surprise, she listens. Instead of stopping in the living room, she continues to the room we’ve been sharing, her shoulders stiff as stone.
I close the door, waiting for the inevitable.
Allette turns, her eyes alight with fury and her dark hair cascading like a shadow behind her thin frame. “You still don’t trust me, do you?”
That isn’t true. “I trust you more than I trust myself.”
“Then tell me what is going on with your brother.”
I rake a hand through my hair, the strands at the back of my neck still damp from my shower. I want to be finding Allette’s tattoo, not arguing with her about something that’s never going to happen. Still, I’ve learned my lesson about keeping secrets. It’s time to come clean.
“Aeron thinks we need to kill the king.”