Page 205 of Bedeviled

He tucks a lock of my windblown hair behind my ear. “You will be alright?”

“I’ll be fine.”

I need to let him go, and yet I hesitate. We haven’t talked about the fact that at some point Eislyn gave us both lilac wine. That both our power and our lifespans have changed.

“I know, est amage,” he says quietly. His thumb strokes my lower lip. “And now, I am truly yours forever.”

“Then you know you will not die on me.” That is one order I am fine making.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he breathes. Memnon drinks in my face. “All these years, and I think I was right to worry that you might be a vengeful spirit.”

“You deserve no less,” I say. But in spite of myself, I’m smiling.

“My life’s honor is that you’re mine.”

He pulls me in then, his mouth pressed so tightly to mine that we’re one. His limbs and mine, our minds, all of it is tangled together.

Just as abruptly, however, he releases me. “I love you.”

“Tell me again when this is over.”

His eyes glitter in the dappled moonlight. “As you command it, my queen,” he says in Sarmatian.

He pulls away then, and there’s no goodbye. The moment doesn’t deserve one when he’s already made me his promises. Memnon nudges his horse forward, and then the two are off, phantom shadows in the night.

Seconds, then minutes pass, and they feel like the longest of my life. I cannot fathom what carnage is being wrought on the palace.

I sit there and listen to the terrible sound of battling forces as Nero prowls close to me.

I glance down at him. “Do you want to sit this fight out?”

He blinks at me slowly, the look as enigmatic as ever. And yet I know what he’s essentially saying—my will is yours.

Just like Memnon.

“We can’t be seen by Eislyn,” I say slowly, “but this is still our battle, and we can still help the fae under attack.”

He continues to stare at me in the darkness, his eyes gleaming like coins.

I’m taking that as a yes.

“Alright,” I whisper.

I reach forward and run a hand down my horse’s neck. I have no idea how skittish this creature might be when it comes to battles.

But I guess we’re going to find out.

I nudge my mount’s flanks. The creature moves slowly at first, but with each stride, it picks up speed until its running at a full gallop, weaving between trees that are as large as the giant redwoods back on earth. Maybe even larger.

There is no path to follow, and the only illumination comes either from the floating fairy lights that speckle some parts of the forest, or else it comes from what appear to be dwellings high above us—dwellings that seem to be built both on and into the trees themselves.

There are bridges between them, and it is all so very enchanting, but it also appears deserted. Either the inhabitants are sheltering in place or else they’ve left, either to fight Eislyn’s forces or else to flee the carnage.

I use the soft light and the sounds of battle to guide my way.

And then, quite suddenly, the back of the palace does come into view. I only catch glimpses of the gray stone in the distance, but much, much closer to me I notice a faint, iridescent shimmer that must be some sort of magical wall or ward. I follow it around the side of the palace grounds. And now I can not only hear the sounds of fighting, but I can also see periodic flashes of light.

More of the palace comes into view, and the sight of it takes my breath away. It’s everything fairy tales speak of—soaring spires, moss- and vine-covered stone walls, arched windows. It seems almost grotesque that a place drawn from dreams is witnessing such violence.