Seven Black Diamonds (Seven Black Diamonds #1)(58)

The first blade flew through the air, sticking in the ground where Endellion’s foot had just been.

The queen spun around, hand on her hilt and blade half-drawn around. “Who dares—” The words died as she saw Eilidh, another knife aloft to throw.

“I’m better with distance than close combat,” Eilidh said. She shrugged and added, “My fragility of body made me learn to adapt.”

The queen met her gaze. “Would you fight me, daughter?”

“I would dissuade you from pushing my brother further this day,” Eilidh answered, cautiously avoiding any words that could elicit the queen’s worst temper.

For a moment, Eilidh thought Rhys was going to step around their mother and strangle her. His eyes were warning her off this path, but there were times when a future queen needed to prove her mettle. This felt like such a time.

The queen bowed her head to Eilidh and then turned to Rhys and did the same. “You both do me proud,” she announced. Then she strode over to Eilidh and in a rare show of maternal affection, the queen kissed her forehead. “Well done.”

The Queen of Blood and Rage swept away in the hush that had come over the assembled crowd.

A few moments passed before Rhys looked at the fae who stood in a circle around them and said, “You are dismissed.”

It was a polite way to tell them “be gone,” but her brother wasn’t known for mincing words. He played up his Unseelie traits, emphasizing his ferocity and candor both.

Once they were alone, Rhys turned to her. “Are you trying to get one of us killed?”

“You can protect yourself against anyone other than the queen,” she reminded him. “We both know that, brother.”

“And there are those who do not always heed our queen mother.” Rhys folded his arms with an uncharacteristic slowness.

“It’s broken, isn’t it?”

“Maybe.” He shrugged awkwardly. “I can fight with the one arm while it sets.”

Hesitantly, Eilidh suggested, “Come to the tower. I can help.”

Rhys lifted his brows in a silent question, but she wasn’t going to answer him here in public.

Mutely, he followed her toward her glass tower. No one stopped them as they walked. It was growing common to see Eilidh walking with her brother, her betrothed—or both. The assumption was simply that Rhys was protecting the heir by determining if Torquil was worthy of her.

As they reached the tower, they found Torquil there waiting outside the glittering building. His lips were pressed tightly together, and she knew that both fae would be voicing displeasure once they were inside the privacy of her tower. They might be visible to the faeries who stood outside watching, but as long as they kept control of their gestures and actions, no one would know that she was being chastised.

The three silently ascended the tower. Once they were inside, Torquil was the first to speak. “What are you thinking? It’s bad enough to be seen training with Rhys, but challenging the queen?”

“He is injured, and I offered aid.”

Rhys held up a hand. “I could’ve continued fighting. Mother has broken far more than one of my bones in her darker moods.”

Torquil raised a single brow.

“I know,” Eilidh said quietly.

For a long tense moment, her brother stared at her. Finally, he said, “It was you. You’ve done this before . . . I would wake far less broken than made sense to me. When she cracked my spine . . . that was a worse injury than it seemed, wasn’t it?”

Eilidh nodded. “I drugged your tea the first time and your wine the second.”

“I knew someone had,” Rhys grumbled. “I had poison testers after the wine incident.”

“I know. It became more and more complicated to knock you out over time, but I didn’t want you to know.” Eilidh sat on the edge of the sofa, realizing that Torquil and Rhys were standing because she’d failed to sit. Having guests and remembering the propriety involved in doing so was still new to her. “I couldn’t have you see me help you. I didn’t know then if I could trust you.”

“You can trust me, Eilidh. I swear on it. No one outside this room will know what you can do,” Rhys vowed.

“I still don’t know,” Torquil pointed out. “Why did you drug Rhys?”

Silently, Eilidh patted the sofa.

Rhys sat.

Eilidh wrapped her hands around her brother’s wrist, letting her sight and touch sink under his flesh until she found the imperfection in the bone. It was something she’d only done with a few people, but she’d healed Rhys often enough that she could see his bone quicker than she would have with someone she’d not healed in the past.

Vaguely, she heard Torquil say, “Is she . . . ?”

“Healing me,” Rhys finished. “Yes.”

Eilidh ignored them, concentrating on the surface of the bone. She drew the pieces together, knitting them steadily as she re-grew the pieces so they could fuse properly. It was akin to coaxing fire from tinder or a plant from soil.

Rhys drew a sharp breath.

“Sorry,” she murmured as his body pulsed with pain. It wasn’t an easy feeling, she suspected, to have bone meld together. She condensed the entire healing process into mere moments. There was no way to do it without pain.

When she released his arm, her usually imperturbable brother looked ill. He leaned back on the cushions and closed his eyes. “Perhaps being drugged first is wise.”