Page 58 of The Blood Queen

“No,” I say. “The armory.”

A tiny quirk of his lips is the only emotion Kirk allows to show. “Indeed.” He pauses. “And you know the way?”

I shake my head, but then the brownie smirks, and I realize that actually, I do know where I need to go. Handy bit of magic, that.

I start to lead Samson down the corridor but pause, looking back at Kirk. “And the other princes, please. All of them.”

The brownie’s eyebrows rise, but he just nods.

“Very in favor of raiding a fae armory,” Samson says. “But won’t all those princely fellows be hungover? Might be best to wait until they’ve had a chance to sober up before we pilfer the goods.”

I snort. “Fae don’t get hungover,” I say. “Why do you think they delight so much in getting humans drunk? It’s an amusement to them.”

By the time Samson and I reach the armory doors, my father and a handful of the princes are already there. Brownies are highly efficient. People are quick to dismiss creatures who put themselves in a serving position, but it takes intelligence and empathy to know what needs to happen before others do and strength to do it all invisibly.

I should know.

“Well met, Daughter,” my father says without any warmth at all in his voice.

I incline my head. “I have need of weapons,” I announce.

“Then what have you need of us?” Keryth mutters. “Especially at this ungodly hour?”

I cast a cool glance at the man, and he seems to suddenly recall the threats I made to him last night.

“You do realize,” Samson pipes up, “that Alyth here is going to face down the High Blade? The mad fae who eliminated your queen? The one who intends to conquer this land and Scotland?”

I do love the way Samson stares down at these fae princes as if they are absolutely nothing.

One of the other men opens his mouth to speak, but my father goes first. “We have conferred. Which you would know, had you lingered where I told you to be.” He casts a disapproving look at me, but I refuse to apologize for leaving the party early.

“We are going to help you,” Keryth announces magnanimously.

“Oh.” Samson sounds surprised. “Right, then. Let’s get on with it.”

My father reaches past him, opening the armory door with a clever burst of magic. I almost see a glimmer of what he could be. There’s strength in the way he rolls his shoulders back, courage in the tilt of his chin. A spark of hope flickers to life within me. I may never have had a doting father, but perhaps I finally have an ally.

I turn to the princes before we step inside. “Samson and I will be returning to Scotland,” I say, the words coming out like a proclamation.

The princes nod as if they knew this all along. Of course they would. I’m Leth, born to be the guardian. They always assumed I would be returning to the first line of defense against the High Blade, even before I knew that’s what I would do.

But for a brief moment, in the silence and dark with Samson’s arms around me, I felt like I had a chance to be nothing more than his.

“And you lot?” Samson demands. “You’ll be joining us. We can tell you what—”

“We will ensure the portals are well protected on this side,” my father says.

Bitterness washes over my tongue. My father never intended to fight beside me.

Only behind me.

Only willing to pick up a sword after I drop it.

But then Keryth says, “Well, but we’ll have to continue the hunt soon—”

And all the hope I had starts to evaporate like smoke.

“Useless arseholes,” Samson mutters just loud enough for my father to hear. He narrows his eyes, but he doesn’t protest Samson’s words.