RAFFERTY
“You doing all right, brother?”
Fin’s voice is barely above a whisper compared to the pounding of blood in my ears. The way she’d sat there, judgingme.Acting as though I am not capable—it’s infuriating.
It wasIwho created the Rebellion.
Iwho stopped Odrahn from burning full villages.
Iwho damn near defeated Sheelin on this side—and yet, one mistake has made me impotent in her eyes. A mistake made due to misplaced familial loyalty.
“Raffe?”
I whirl. “What?”
Fin’s eyes widen. “What’s in your asshole?”
“Ember.”
“Aww. Yes. And what did our queen-to-be do to piss you off today?”
“She is not the queen-to-be,” I snarl. He doesn’t respond, just stands there waiting for me to continue. “What the hell do you want, Fin?”
“I was hoping to get some training in today. Working up a sweat always helps distract me.”
Pursing my lips, I study the dark circles beneath his eyes, the gaunt hollowness of his cheeks. He’s dying, slowly, painfully, and I’m not entirely sure sparring with me is going to help. Not when the magic that once bound him to his true mate is now eating him alive.
“Listen, I know what you’re going to say, but I can handle myself just fine still. Haven’t started passing out yet, so that’s a plus.”
“Fin—”
“Please, Raffe? I can’t just sit around, and since your dickhead brother is not here—”
“Even if he were, we cannot kill him yet. Not until Ember—”
“I understand,” Fin interrupts. “So you’re going to spar with me, and we’re going to work through as much of this anger as we can.” He gestures to me then clasps a hand on my shoulder and walks past me.
Knowing I have little choice in the matter, I follow, heading out into the brilliant sunlight and onto the bright green lawns where we’ve set up an archery target and a few sword racks. Stripping out of my shirt, I leave it hanging on the edge of one of them then draw a silver blade and spin it to loosen up my wrist.
The weight of the sword in my hand calms me as it always has. My father used to joke that I was built for war. I’d been bothered by it at first. After all, war brings pain and despair. Why the fuck would I want to be built for it?
But now that I’m an adult balls-deep in the largest war Faerie has ever seen? I believe him. And more so, I am grateful to have been made for the fight.
“Don’t go easy on me just because I’m dying,” Fin half-jokes, likely more for his ego than an actual request.
“I don’t plan to,” I lie, taking my stance.
Fin does the same, though I can see the strain reflected in the harsh set of his mouth as he takes a step forward.
I move to the side, and he counters, swinging his blade with precision. He brings it down again, and I raise mine. Metal clashes together, but it doesn’t last long. He spins out of the way and moves just out of reach.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“About what?” I bring my blade down to the right, and he blocks it.
“Ember. What’s got you in such a piss-poor mood. Take your pick.”
“She’s frustrating,” I growl.