Page 74 of The Blood Queen

Sueno’s Stone. From this angle, I can mostly just see the narrow side, decorated with long lines twisted together, traditional Celtic knot work. They could be vines or branches.

Or they could be spiderwebs.

The soldier doubles back, heading in our direction. I look up at the stone as if it were fascinating, as if I have every right to be here. The broad front of the stone has been intricately carved with crowded panels showing the stages of a bloody battle. My eyes linger at the top, where a pattern of three horseback riders is repeated three times. Three…like the three will-o’-the-wisps that led us to the fae realm, like the three spiders I saw on the Faerie Queen’s door, the three weavers I spotted at Corryvreckan. Three.

I shake my head. It must be a coincidence.

I’m not surprised the High Blade came here. She was likely present at that battle, more than a thousand years ago. I’m not sure which battle this stone represents nor which side the High Blade may have fought on, but she wouldn’t have cared about the victory.

She only remembers the slaughter, the feast that followed.

Worse than a crow, this carrion eater who would rule us all.

The soldier pauses near us, and Samson and I barely dare to breathe. I keep focused on the stone, forcing myself not to think about the way my muscles are exhausted from so much trepidation, how close we are and yet still so desperately far from succeeding at this impossible task.

“Alyth?” Samson says in a low voice, stepping in front of me. His eyes flick to the left.

I nod subtly. The soldier is staring at us. If we’re found now…

Without another word, Samson dips his head to mine, kissing me fiercely. It’s so surprising that my lips part in a soft gasp that he swallows as he deepens the kiss. His arms go around me, tapping my back when I stand still as a board.

Because this is not romantic at all. It’s a distraction, an excuse to make the patrolling soldier go away.

And it works. I see him out of the corner of my eye, chuffing in approval as he turns and walks away.

Samson feels the way my body relaxes, and instead of letting me go, he holds me tighter. I can feel his heartbeat, his chest pressed against mine, the dangerous edge of this situation heightening every sense, every emotion. I sink into his warmth, his love, his assurance, and for a moment, the rest of the world slips away.

For one moment, when we break away, both of us with cheeks flushed and hearts racing, I almost forget why we’re here, what we need to do.

Almost.

Samson shoots me a grim, questioning look, and I nod resolutely.

We have a murderous Red Cap to stab.

We make our way back to the tent. Fortunately, the front flap is tied back, exposing the crimson lining. A brazier is set near the opening, designed to heat the tent without suffocating the occupant with smoke.

As we agreed before, Samson takes up a spot outside the tent so that the High Blade can’t control him and use him against me. Far enough away that he doesn’t seem conspicuous, close enough that he’ll hear me if I need help. He’s a bundle of rage and nerves to be separated from me, his aura streaking in orange frustration, blue worry, yellow anxiety.

But we cannot risk him falling to her again. Besides, being a furious ball of tension actually helps him blend in with the other Red Caps even more.

My breath catches as I slip inside, alone. The dim brazier casts my shadow over the tent walls.

I gasp, freezing at the sight of the High Blade towering in front of me.

But no—it’s her armor, set on a stand.

I scan the interior of the large tent. She’s in the center, atop a mattress surrounded by furs and blankets. She is asleep…I think. At least, she isn’t moving.

All night, the ground has been hard, the grass crunchy underfoot. So when I step in something slick and wet, I pause, looking down.

A puddle of viscous ooze seeps over my shoe, and when I lift my foot, strands of dark red drip off the sole. I cannot stop myself from following the trail of gore. In the far corner, I see a jumble of limbs, too short and slender to be human but too numerous to be just one fae creature.

The High Blade appeased her rage at the portal closing with a violent feed.

I force myself to look away, blinking back burning tears. I square my shoulders.

I hope this meal, consumed after the burning of Forres, makes her sleep even deeper, even if that will not make up for the loss of lives.