Page 86 of The Blood Queen

There’s a fae man on the other side of it, one of the princes from the ball. Keryth, I think. He’s fussing with something, and he looks more frazzled than last we saw him, his hair sticking out at odd angles, his clothes rumpled.

Alyth kicks her stag faster, ahead of me, barreling toward it. “Wait!” she shouts. “Wait—”

Keryth turns to us. He’s close enough now I can spot his sneer as he lifts his hand, points at us, shouts, “Red Cap coming!”

My chest seizes, regret mixing with panic.

I can see more fae through the portal now, behind him; they’re all lifting their hands, magic whirling around their fingers.

“Stop!” Alyth screams.

Keryth vanishes. The fae behind him too.

The portal shuts.

The magic glow around the stone snaps away, leaving behind a cold, dead rock.

Alyth digs her heels into the stag, and it wheels to avoid pummeling right into the stone. She leaps off the beast, rushes at the stone, slams her palms to it.

“No!” she barks. “No!”

I slide off my stag, sheathe my sword, and race to her just as she drops forward, her forehead hitting the rock.

She wilts, slumping down, back heaving.

I touch her shoulder, tentative, testing.

Heedless of the blood caked on my body, she spins and throws herself in my arms.

It settles me. Soothes what parts of me the healing potion couldn’t reach. I close my eyes and bury my face in her hair, squeezing her tight, tight enough to brace against the sobs trembling through her.

“They can’t close all of ’em, can they?” I whisper.

She draws a shuddering breath. “No. They need the magic,” she says, her voice surprisingly clear and level, even with her tears soaking my neck. “They know it would destroy the fae realm.”

“So we’ll find one. We’ll get through a portal, and we’ll cut the High Blade’s thread. We know what to do now, Alyth.”

You’re gonna be okay.

Because she will be.

It’s a weird sort of peace descending over me. A light, buoyant peace.

She’s gonna be just fine.

I’ll make sure of it.

I pull her back and cup her face in my hand, clocking the smudges of ash and dirt on her cheeks, the dried blood crusting along her hairline, the sleepless bruising around her eyes.

“How far away are we from the Red Cap army?” I ask. The stags are fast, but I have no way of knowing which bit of Scotland we’re in now, just how far we’ve gone.

“A least a day’s hard march from there,” she says, wilting. “We’re halfway to Edinburgh. They can’t reach us tonight even if they know where we are.”

“Let’s make camp,” I tell her. “We’ll get some rest and go after the next portal when we’re fresh.”

Her lips thin. “The longer we wait, the more damage the High Blade will do.”

“And you feel fit to infiltrate the Seelie Court?” I run my thumb over her jaw. “To sneak back in the place that—”