The whole thing looked like a scene from ‘The Exorcist’. Ronan lay in the center of a small bed in the palace infirmary surrounded by frantic healers with fluttery hands. Atop the pale sheets he twisted and writhed. Even in unconsciousness he seemed to be experiencing a massive amount of pain.They had ripped off the lower part of his pants to get better access to the wound, and what Beth could glimpse of it between the circling medics made her gag.

The cuts were deep, lacerating his shin and calf, and they were blackened. The skin around them peeling away, as if fleeing from the putrid iron poison. Veins spider-webbed out from the ridges and were creeping up to the rest of his body.

Beth paced outside the door, her boots squeaking on the marble tile. She’d bit her nails to the quick and then moved onto her lips, which were nearly bloody. Guilt thrashed at her, only stopping every now and then for shame to kick her in the ribs. How could she have been so stupid? Ronan had assured her that everything would be alright but he wasn’t a freaking oracle. Listening to him had been her choice. A choice she now bitterly regretted.

Furthermore, she felt like a giant weakling, helpless against the call of the Cthonic. One sniff and she’d practically destroyed the hut door trying to get to it. Beth had never been the poster child for self control but that scene had been ridiculous. In that state of mind she was no better than a revenant. The idea of which made her gag harder.

Inside the room, Ronan let out a pained roar and arched off the bed.

“What happened?” Beth asked breathlessly, trying to breach the doorway. “What are you doing to him?!”

A large man wearing black clothing blocked her way. His skin was also very dark but his eyes were a light orange. “We’re helping him. Wait in the hall.” His voice was deep and authoritative. He reminded Beth of a bouncer.

Only at the Pale Palace would the infirmary have a bouncer, she thought as he shut the door in her face.

Across from her Sylvie sat against the wall. She looked exhausted and slightly resigned, like she knew what to expect next.”

“Is he going to be okay?” Beth asked her, resuming her anxious march back and forth.

“Probably. Ronan’s a hard motherfucker to kill. You should go get cleaned up.”

Beth looked down at the dried blood that covered her. The beast blood was a little darker than the revenant blood and in the places where they’d overlapped it looked even more ghastly.

“You kidding? This is next season’s fashion,” she quipped. “I’m not leaving him.”

The selkie rolled her eyes. Her knees were pulled up on and her elbows rested on them. Her usually pert mohawk looked flaccid. She glanced down the hallway and chuckled. “Hark,” she said. “Yon slutasaurus approaches.”

Beth whirled around and groaned inwardly. “Fianna.” She’d meant it to be a greeting, but it had come out sounding awfully accusative.

Fianna, looking slightly less frail and a little more sober than when Beth had last seen her, came to a stop before her daughter. She looked her over and her lips curled slightly in disgust, her nose wrinkling. “Elizabeth.”

Beth hoped she wasn’t here to try and offer comfort. At any given moment Fianna was one of the last people that Beth wanted to see, and that only amplified in a time of crisis like this one.

“What do you want?” she asked, not caring if she sounded rude.

“The Queen wants to see you. I’m sure she wants a full account of what happened leading up to this.” She waved a hand in the direction of the closed door.

“What are you, her servant now? Her errand girl? You’d think forcing your only daughter to marry a stranger would have at least bought you handmaid.”

Beth was aware that her words were venomous but she was too worked up to care. The guilt and the shame were most prevalent but beneath that was utter exhaustion and an internal itch that she thought might have something to do with the Cthonic. She felt simultaneously antsy and drained, the result of which was her wanting to pull her hair out in frustration. Not to mention she was terrified for Ronan. It was true that they’d only just begin to get to know one another, but already it was difficult to imagine a life without his serious scowl and rare smiles.

Fianna pursed her lips, looking more like a mother than she ever had before. “Either you go, Elizabeth, or the guards come and force you to go.”

Beth ground her teeth, looking hard at the door for a moment before turning back to Sylvie. “Will you let me know if anything changes?”

“No,” Fianna answered for her. “She’s coming too.”

Sylvie pushed to her feet, groaning. “I figured.”

Beth swallowed. Worry permeated every fiber of her being as she spared one last glance for the room in which Ronan lay, fighting for his life. She turned and fell in step alongside Sylvie as they followed Fianna. The throne room was even colder than the last time she’d been there, but Maeve could have been dressed for summer. Her steel grey dress was sleeveless and strapless, but somehow she looked more regal than ever. Despite the concerned expression currently on her face.

“How is he?” she asked once everyone had come to a stop before her. “What happened? Ronan never falters. Never gets hurt.”

“Nice to see you too, mom,” Sylvie muttered sullenly.

Beth felt her eyes grow wide as she glanced sideways at the selkie. Now that the two were near one another the similarity was stark and she wondered how she could have ever overlooked it. Of course, she’d had no idea that Maeve had a daughter. They were about the same height and the hair color was the same but Sylvie had different eyes than Maeve and her nose wasn’t as pointed.

Maeve’s features didn’t soften when she laid eyes on her daughter. She and Fianna seemed to have a lot in common. “What were you doing in the Drochaid, Sylviana?”

“That’s none of your business.”

Beth gaped. She had never heard anyone speak to the Queen like this.

“My Knight is nearly dead! How could this have happened?!” Maeve was practically screeching. She pushed to her feet and towered menacingly over the two girls from her spot up on the dais.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have married him to an untrained half-fae!” Beth felt more than heard Sylvie’s bitterness.

Maeve choked out a laugh. “You think I should have married him to you, Sylviana? And what did you do to deserve a gift of that measure, hm? You showed no prowess as a diplomat or even a seductress! You were always playing in the mud and leaves with those boys. A warrior.” She said ‘warrior’ as if it were a curse word.

Beth chanced a sideways look at Sylvie. The selkie’s fists and lips were clenched, but her dark eyes were fixed dangerously on her mother. She didn’t respond to the Queen’s jibes.

There was a tense silence while the two women glared at one another and Beth came to grips with the idea that Sylvie was in love with Ronan. Or at least had been, fifty years ago. It explained the selkie’s sometimes terse attitude with her. It was a wonder, really, that such terseness was the only incarnation of the feelings that Sylvie must be harboring for her.

Miraculously, Beth felt even more miserable than she had five minutes before.

Maeve sat abruptly, her porcelain face twisted into something that looked like a mix between worry and utter loathing.

“Is that all you wanted mother?” Sylvie asked with a sneer. “To yell at us for damaging your precious Knight?”

The Dark Lady’s lips were pressed so thinly together that they nearly disappeared from her face. She regarded the girls, mostly Sylvie, for a dangerous moment before letting her breath hiss out through her nose.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“Yes. That’s all. Get out of my sight. And Elizabeth, you especially had better hope he survives this. His position as Sheriff falls to his wife upon the occasion of his death.”

Those words echoed throughout Beth’s mind as she walked beside Sylvie through the cold hallway.

“We should both try and get some rest,” Sylvie said, giving Beth a sideways glance.

“But if Ronan --”

The selkie cut her off. “If Ronan survives, he’ll be drugged anyway and would do better without us bothering him.”

The phrase ‘if Ronan survives’ sent chills scurrying down every one of Beth’s limbs. “I-I guess.”

They reached the end of the hallway that contained the infirmary and came to a stop. Beth stared down it at the still-closed door, behind which presumably stood the bouncer.

“They would let you in even if you stayed, Beth,” Sylvie said softly. “And you look like shit. Go get cleaned up and sleep a bit. I’m sure they’ll let us know when they have news about him.”

The blood had dried and was now just a brown crust atop her clothes. She’d forgotten it in her worry for Ronan. With the reminder it seemed heavy, and the bits on her skin began to itch. The discomfort must have shown on her face because Sylvie seemed satisfied that she would not try to stay.

“Do you have a room here?”

Beth nodded numbly.

“Alright. Well, try and get some rest.” She clasped Beth’s shoulder in a brief goodbye before turning and strolling toward the wing of the castle that was home to Maeve.

It seemed as though Sylvie still had a room in the royal quarters, despite her differences with her mother. In fact, Sylvie probably had a room fit for a princess. Beth started for the nobles’ wing. For that small, windowless room that she had known all of her childhood.

Upon reaching the door she stilled, hesitating before pulling it open. Nothing had changed since she had last seen it on her wedding day three days prior, not that she had really expected it to. Thick dust still covered the furniture, save for on the bedspread where she’d lain after Ronan had Fae-napped her.

Memories washed over Beth as she took in the room. Memories of a lonely child, a burden to her mother, who couldn’t manage to take so much as a walk without getting into trouble. Benji and Delphine and Katherine had made her life bearable, but it didn’t change the fact that she hated this place, this castle, with its pale facade and cold corridors. She had never belonged her, not with the nobles nor the servants, though more with the servants than the nobles, admittedly. Beth hated the girl who she had been when she lived in this room, she decided, as she continued to gaze at her childhood things.

“You don’t have to stay in here,” Katherine said from behind her, causing Beth to jump.

Katherine’s dark hair and eyes were a welcome sight and Beth fought the urge to hug her. She probably wouldn’t appreciate being assaulted with flakes of dried blood.

“Miss Katherine,” she said in greeting, though it sounded like a gasp.

Katherine’s lips curved into a small smile, sad but comforting. “Elizabeth. Come, let’s get you a bath.”

“Where else would I stay?” Beth asked, remembering the green room where she and Ronan had been expected to consummate their marriage. She had assumed that place was only temporarily available to them, like a hotel room.

“Sir Ronan has a room here,” said Katherine.

Understanding dawned on Beth. He had mentioned that, hadn’t he? That sounded infinitely better than the tomb before her.

“Oh, yes.” She hoped she didn’t sound as dazed as she felt. “Er … where would that be?”

Katherine smiled and turned on her heel, leading her back in the direction from which she’d come. They turned the corner into the royal’s wing and Beth nearly groaned. Of course Ronan’s room would be near Maeve’s quarters. How else would he be able to satisfy her sexual needs at the drop of a hat?

Beth scratched at a patch of blood on her wrist as Katherine came to a stop before a plain wooden door. She wished she were at home, where she could take modern conveniences like running water and electricity for granted. Maeve enjoyed keeping things medieval, for some reason. Though to her credit, electricity was a very dangerous thing to harness in Faerie, because like everything else, it was bigger. It was easier to live in the dark ages. And for those that had magic, she supposed, it wasn’t that big of a deal.

Katherine raised an eyebrow expectantly at Beth, who realized she’d been zoning out.

“Sorry,” Beth muttered. “What’s going on?”

“The room will only open for its owner,” she explained.

Beth frowned. “I’m not its owner.”

“As Ronan’s wife, you are. At least in part.”

It had to be some kind of enchantment. “Does every room in the palace bind to its owner like this?”

Katherine shook her head. “Only the royal rooms.”

She chewed on her lip. “Then why is my room exactly as it was when I left? It hasn’t even been dusted.”

“Your mother requested that it remain untouched, all those years ago,” Katherine explained, looks of dislike and understanding warring on her face.

Why the hell would Fianna do that? In case Beth came back? That was ridiculous. Her mother hated her.

This was making Beth’s brain hurt. So instead she stepped directly in front of the door and cleared her throat, not entirely sure that this would work. Mentally she prepared herself for a nap in the hallway, hobo style.

To her surprise, the door swung inward silently, revealing a spacious bedroom. Beth exhaled, relieved.

Katherine smiled. “It seems as though the room has prepared you a bath already.” She gestured to a large stone basin that took up a corner of the room, from which steam rose enticingly.

Beth stepped inside, blinking around.

“I’ll leave you to it. Sleep well. I’ll have a dress outside your door in a few hours.”

Katherine slipped away and Beth closed the door quietly. Being alone with her thoughts would not be fun, so instead of facing them she explored the room. It was twice the size of her little one, with a large four poster bed and even a window. The walls were barren, adorned by no posters, pictures or even paintings.

A large wardrobe boasted four or five tunics in different shades, along with a few pairs of leather pants and a big coat made of furs. A drawer revealed a silver bracelet inlaid with rubies and a few other small trinkets that obviously had at least once belonged to women, even if they didn’t now. Idly Beth wondered if they belonged to old lovers or were perhaps his mother’s. She placed them back and moved on, glancing out the window at a breathtaking view of the lake. The morning sun reflected off of the snow in an effect that was blinding.

Beth got lost for a moment, picturing herself as a girl, sliding across that frozen surface with Benji and Delphine.

The itching of her skin reminded Beth that she was wasting hot water. Slowly she stripped off her clothes, approaching the tub and dropping them onto the floor. The water felt heavenly against her irritated skin and tired muscles. It was a wonder she made it out of the basin without falling asleep.

Beth dried herself with a hanging towel that she hadn’t noticed before and pulled one of Ronan’s tunics over her head. The bed wasn’t too soft as she crawled into it, but she decided that she liked that. It smelled vaguely of him, evergreen and lemongrass, just enough to make her chest ache fiercely for a moment. Beth pulled a pillow to her and hugged it tightly, hoping against hope that Ronan was going to be alright.

Beth woke up to a confident knock on the door. Instantly her heart was in her throat. The idea that this could be someone coming to welcome her into widowhood made her shake as she clambered off the bed and padded across the room, the cold stone a shock to her bare feet.

“Who is it?” she asked, her voice rough with sleep and the promise of tears.

“It’s me!” someone said cheerily.

Beth pulled open the door and launched herself into Sebastian’s arms, not caring that all she wore was a tunic that came halfway down her thighs.

Sebastian didn’t care either. He picked her up and swung her around, offering the comfort she needed. “Hello love. Long night?”

“It feels like years since I’ve last seen you,” she breathed into his hair. Had it really only been last night that they’d said goodbye at the Glen? “What are you doing here? I thought you hated this place.”

“You guys never checked in. And word travels fast about the goings on in Faerie, especially when Ronan is involved. There aren’t many places I wouldn’t go for him.”

“Oh, god. Have you heard anything? Is he --”

“He’s fine. I mean, not fine. He’ll need to heal for a few days, maybe a week. But he’s alive.”

Beth felt about thirty pounds lighter. She swallowed down relieved tears and took a step back, unable to fight the smile spreading across her face. “Oh, god.”

Sebastian smiled back at her. “So you like the room? It seems to like you, letting you inside it and all.”

“That sounded dirty.”

“It was meant to.” His grin was cheeky.

“It’s not very personalized.”

“Yeah, he’s not here much. Nice shirt.”

“Hush. You’ve seen me in less.”

“True. Oh, yeah, here.” Sebastian took a step back and reached for something outside the door. He brandished a long, lavender dress.

Beth sighed. “I don’t know why Katherine can’t pick out jeans and a t-shirt.”

“She’s a traditionalist.” He shut the door behind him. “Let’s get you into this and we’ll go visit Ronan.”

“Have you seen him yet?” She pulled the tunic over her head.

Sebastian frowned as he tried unlacing the back of the dress. “Yeah. He’s mildly coherent.”

“Mildly?”

“Remember when you were on those painkillers I gave you?”

She lifted up her arms and he slid the dress down over her head. “Mhmm. Is it like that?” Her voice was muffled.

“He’s a little less silly, but essentially yes.”

He spun her around and began tightening the laces on the back of the bodice while she choked back a laugh.

“I can’t imagine Ronan being silly, not in a million years.”

“Yeah, you’re right. He isn’t that bad. Not nearly as bad as you were when you popped out of the Hedge.” His tone was teasing.

“Don’t remind me. That was awful.”

Sebastian chuckled and tied a bow where her lower back met the top of her ass.