Queen of Blood and Vengeance (Secrets of the Faerie Crown #4)

19. Arran

19

ARRAN

I planned my timing carefully. If Veyka chose to descend to the Great Hall for supper, Lyrena would be at her side. But on that evening, Veyka and I had dined privately with my mother and father. Which meant that in the hours between eating and sleeping, the golden knight would slip down to the kitchens to drink and carouse.

While Veyka coaxed more stories of my childhood out of my mother, I made an excuse about finalizing the division of amorite weapons with Osheen. If Veyka suspected the lie, she did not show it. The golden thread of our mating bond remained steady but silent.

But rather than making my way down into the armory, where Osheen was diligently at work, I climbed the spiral staircase to our apartments. I found Cyara exactly where I expected, doing what I expected—in the chamber she shared with Lyrena off of the communal sitting room, preparing for the journey ahead.

She sat on the floor, legs folded gracefully underneath her, and white-feathered wings tucked in tight to avoid upsetting any of the already-packed parcels stacked behind her. Across the carpet was a large spread of items, some of which I recognized— a bowl of tea, a fine-toothed comb—and others which remained a mystery, such as two small metal instruments with sharp hooks at one end.

She started to stand, but I waved her down as I closed the door behind me.

“Your Majesty.”

“Arran is fine.”

The corners of her lips turned in a small smile. It had taken her months to finally call Veyka by her given name rather than her title. While she’d been at our side for months, I was not surprised that she still reverted to formality. I could count the number of times we’d shared a private conversation on one hand. She was Veyka’s closest friend, and I had no desire to insert myself into that. My mate deserved the simple comfort of a friend.

“Your preparations are thorough,” I said as I scanned the contents laid out before her again. My own travel pack contained only the basic necessities—clothing, weapons, emergency rations, and a bar of soap.

As I considered the spread, Cyara picked up a neatly cut square of linen, measured a spoonful of tea leaves into the center, and then twisted the ends into an efficient little knot. A twinge of regret lodged itself in my side. For the first time, Veyka was sending her handmaiden away. My mate would not have these small comforts, all a far cry from the luxury she was entitled to as queen.

I vowed to myself to go back over and reassess what I carried in my own travel pack.

Cyara continued her ministrations without looking up at me. Patience and silence were her weapons, but she was no less a warrior. Good . I was counting upon it.

There was no need to clear my throat or get her attention. I knew she was already aware of every breath I took.

“It is Veyka’s wish that you secure the alliance of the Faeries of the Fen before you begin your search for the Grail,” I said plainly.

Her fingers paused over the neatly stacked rows of tea satchels she’d created. “I am aware.”

“Your discontent with that command was obvious.”

Next she unrolled a rectangle of leather tied with twine, revealing lengths of glittering jewels, the type that elementals often wore woven into their plaits. She carefully began to disentangle them, arranging each in a vertical line beside the next.

“Are you here as her enforcer?” she asked, her voice carefully neutral, and only after she had rewrapped the roll.

“Veyka does not need me to enforce her edicts. She is plenty ruthless all on her own.”

Her wings fluttered over her shoulders, though her voice remained level. “On that we are agreed.”

She’d moved on to grooming items. Slender bars of soap, a vial of pale violet liquid, washcloths made of supple, soft fabric. Of all the elementals I’d met, Cyara was the best at hiding her emotions and reactions. Which was truly a distinction, given that the skill was drilled into them from birth.

But I’d spent months observing her love for Veyka. I’d watched it grow as Veyka leaned into it, giving pieces of herself and receiving bits of her handmaiden in return. I knew enough to take the chance.

“I suspect that is not the only matter on which we are of one mind,” I said.

Cyara’s careful, continuous movements did not pause this time. But she communicated that she understood with the shift in her tone. “You have my attention.”

Now or never.

Veyka might never forgive me. But I could live with that.

“A war will be fought. No matter how or what you find, no matter what alliances we do or do not secure. There will be battle, and the succubus will slaughter human and fae alike in numbers that even Veyka cannot yet comprehend. When and if we find the Ethereal Queen, many will die.”

Cyara began stacking all of the small packages she’d arranged in the center of a larger swath of fabric. “I have come to the same conclusions.”

“But Veyka will not be among them.”

She folded the edges of the fabric and wrapped it with sturdy twine. “No, she will not.”

“Go to the human realm. Take Percival and Diana if you must. Meet with the Faeries of the Fen if it is helpful. But allies are not your concern. Your quest is for the Grail.”

She cinched the final knot into place and lifted her turquoise eyes to mine. I saw everything I needed there, but she still said the words— “You have my promise.”

I was not good at emotion. Feelings only made making difficult decisions harder. Only with Veyka did I allow myself to be vulnerable. But I tried to let the emotions shine through my eyes in that moment—to let Cyara know just what that vow meant to me. And I saw them reflected back in hers.

I nodded sharply and turned for the door. There was nothing else to say.

“Arran.”

I froze with my hand on the door handle. Soft rustling told me that Cyara had risen. When I turned, she held out the package she’d been so carefully preparing. “Here.”

“What is this?”

“For Veyka.”

Understanding shifted into place. The shadowvein tea that Veyka took each morning. The strands of jewels—I’d never seen Cyara wear them, but Veyka almost always did. All of her careful preparations were not for her own sake, but for her queen’s. I accepted the package as an even deeper understanding took root.

Cyara would keep her promise. Or perish in the pursuit.