by Sage, May
There was silence as all considered the way ahead.
“There’s danger one way or another,” Devi said. “As for me, I’ll pick the option that allows us to sleep in a feather bed.”
Even now, she managed to lighten the atmosphere. Vale wrapped his arms around her shoulder and kissed her forehead. “Feather bed it is. We’ll see about sleep.”
He was only half joking. He needed her. To hold her, feel her and make her scream his name. He needed her comfortable and happy. Letting her struggle in the snow went against his every instinct.
Struggle was all she’d ever done since they’d met.
She was strong. She could take it. The only thing enraging him was that she had to.
“I’ll take the first watch if you’d like some time to yourself?” Gallal offered.
The healer-cook was decidedly growing on him.
“Oh no, I don’t think so. I’ll take the first watch. You guys sleep. I’m already exhausted and I know exactly what you would convince me to do if we had time to ourselves,” Devi said, softening the blow by kissing him.
She was right of course. They all needed sleep to heal their physical aches and reset their energy.
As he lay on the cold snow, Vale stared at the crown in his hand for an hour, at least, willing it to respond to him.
In vain.
“I see something.”
Vale was at Devi’s side before her next breath, eyes forward as he watched shadows dance in the distance.
She was right.
“Two riders,” she said.
“No, just one. Two horses. One rider.” Vale kept his gaze on the approaching figured. Then, he smiled.
“By all gods!” Devi exclaimed when she recognized their horses.
“The gods have little to do with our fortune. As always, we can thank your kindness. That’s our maid from the inn atop my horse, unless I’m much mistaken.”
He hadn’t gotten more than a glimpse of the high fae who’d served Devi at Vera’s Roof.
Devi rushed back to their supplies, heated another blackstone and pulled out leftovers of their dry meat. By the time the horses had reached Vale, she’d returned.
“Jeryn! How in heaven and hell have you found us?”
The poor female was all but frozen, wearing a light coat entirely unsuitable for the weather. Her teeth were grinding, and she shivered like a leaf in the wind. Vale doubted she still had all her toes.
“I didn’t. The horses just…kept going. Trust me, I tried to turn them back. A lot.”
Vale didn’t doubt it. He helped her down her horse and Devi handed her the blackstone.
“Here’s some food. How did you end up following us?”
The better question was why. Another time, another war, Vale would have taken the answer from her mind, not thinking twice about invading it.
Now, he didn’t.
“I just freed the horses. I think they’re smarter than most. They understood I’d get in trouble for it, somehow. So, they let me tag along. And…” Hesitantly, the maid turned to him. “I didn’t realize who you were when we met, so I didn’t get to say it. My prince, I hope you’re crowned. Many of us fae do.” She almost managed a grin. “I’d curtsy, if I could feel my legs.”
“I’ll wake up our healer,” Vale said, moving back to camp and feeling like he was running away.
He couldn’t even begin to think how he could respond. She wanted him crowned? The very thought boggled his mind.
Valerius was prepared to take the throne if he had to. If he was chosen. But he’d imagined ruling over reluctant subjects, not unlike the court of night, who despised and disrespected him.
“Gallal.” Vale kept and kept his voice low in an attempt to avoid waking the scientist cocooned next to the healer. “We have a patient for you.”
Gallal yawned, before leaping into action.
Vale remained where he sat, his attention called away by the crown still in his hand.
Its ruby red stone shone in the night and it slowly hummed, as if singing.
Frowning, he placed it on its head.
The instrument was communicating, murmuring one word.
King.
Sixteen
Room with a View
Krea leaped out of the ship and rushed to the ground, kissing the wet sand under her feet.
In three weeks of sailing, she had grown accustomed to the turmoil of the seas. Still, there was nothing quite like standing on firm ground.
“Come on. Enough theatrics. You could have come ashore sooner,” Kallan Blacks reminded her.
She grinned.
A week ago, their ships had headed south of Carvenstone land, in the mostly rural county of Farj. The children and non-fighters had been dropped off, along with a handful of soldiers. The rest of them were headed north to Corantius. Kallan had ordered that they’d join their prince, to fight for him. Finally.
So naturally, Krea hid below deck, only coming out when they were way too far for the commander to send her back.
He’d been angry at first.
She knew her impulse had been reckless, but what was she supposed to do in Farj? Look after the children again? She was terrible at it. It wasn’t like she had family who wanted her around. She’d studied great battles and she knew that armies always needed messengers, scouts, cooks, people who ran errands.
After yelling at her for three minutes straight, their lord regent gave her a different kind of punishment.
She meant to be helpful. She needed to feel helpful. And strong. Stronger than she’d been down in the caves. The memory of the way she’d wept helplessly would haunt her till her dying day.
“’Didn’t you forget something?” Kallan glared at her.
Krea winced, returning to the ship. She came back with his sword. It was too heavy for her, but she had to carry it nonetheless, as his squire.
His squire. She expected to have been sent to the kitchens, or something equally dull. Instead, he made her polish his sword and write notes to the other ships, care for the ravens and eagles they used as messengers.
Krea pretended to be suitably inconvenienced and put out, so he thought she took her new appointment as a punishment. In truth, she couldn’t possibly have been any more thrilled. Squires observed and aided their lords. Sometimes, they even became knights. She grinned each time she imagined herself wearing armor and kneeling to be anointed.
For now, her job was mostly cleaning and carrying things too heavy for her.
Like shiny swords she would love to wield someday.
“Where are we? The air is so cold here.”
As a daughter of the north, she used to believe she was used to friskier weather but her feet were freezing in her boots.
“Twenty-five miles from Carvenstone. We landed away from the border as we anticipate it will be well guarded. And it’s warmer by the sea than it is inland.”
“Dragon’s scales!” she cursed. “How are people living here?”
“They’re more robust than unruly nine-year-olds.”
Now Krea rolled her eyes. “What, so they don’t have children here?”
Lord Blacks looked up to the sky, as he often did when she tried his patience, as if willing the heavens to give him the strength to put up with her.
“Go on ahead. We’ll set up camp on the cliffs for tonight. Find the best spot for my tent.”
This, like everything else he did, felt like a test. Or at least, Krea took it as such. The best spot? She looked ahead to the intimidating stretch of steep, tree-ridden cliff. The obvious answer was the very top, of course. It would have the best view and if their army was scattered around the rest of the forest, he’d be protected in case of an attack.
But this was Kallan Blacks. The Kallan Blacks, hero of the War of the Realm, companion and advisor to prince Valerius.
She lifted her gaze up the highest tree, and grinned, before starting a climb.
Yes. This would do just fine.
The tree was
old, hard and sturdy. She lay back on one of the branches and sighed in pleasure.
“To me. Come to me.” She whispered softly, her mouth and her heart calling to the frozen ground underneath her feet.
The leaves grew thicker overhead and new branches sprouted out of the older ones to form a floor under her feet.
“What have we here? A bird of some sort, I’d say.”
She looked down to Kallan.
“The best spot, as ordered. I can see the entire forest from here, and the lands for miles ahead.” When he made no reply, she added, “Or perhaps you’re too old for climbing trees. I hear grownups get heavy, awkward bones and lose their agility with time.”
“You have been sent to punish me, I swear.” Even as he complained, he bent his knees and leaped so high he reached the first branch with his left hand. His feet joined it and he leaped again and again until he arrived right in front of her.
Kallan looked around, appearing confused. “Did you do this? It doesn’t look totally natural.”
Krea grinned. “When I was little, after my father passed away, I spent a fair bit of time by myself. You know, before the knights dragged me to Carvenstone. I’ve done a few treehouses.”
It was one of her best creations. As the ash tree was so large, the room she’d built was as vast as Kallan’s cabin in the blasted ship they’d just left.
“It’s rather well insulated, too.”
She shrugged. “Practice makes perfect.”
Carvenstone may not be as cold as this place, but it was still the north.
“Thank you, Krea.”
She felt rather awkward now. She hadn’t expected any thanks. “Right. I’d better get the rest of your things.”
“I think not. I’ll not have you fall off the tree trying to get my suitcases. Go find yourself a perch. You’re off for the rest of the day.”
She certainly didn’t need to be told twice.
Seventeen
Enemies
Rook was last to arrive in the emergency council session. He’d been bothering Kira, and though he’d received the summons promptly, he hadn’t been inclined to stop his favorite activity right away.
The lords of Corantius awaited him in silence. Aurelius sat at one head of the table, and the only seat vacant was at its other end.
Rook kicked the back off in one hit, before sitting on what was now a stool. He’d not retract his wings now. They were his protection, his strength and pride.
In the middle of the large mahogany, to his left, sat Kelina Stormhale, the only person whose judgement mattered here.
She was of little skill and not half as clever as she pretended to be. But she was a seer, and that was all that mattered.
“Well?”
“An army arrived from the sea to the west. I did not see it. Water muddles the visions—and everything has been unclear since Orin’s death anyway.”
Rook leaned forward, eyes on her. “Then what use are you, exactly?” Kelina was angry. Incensing her was a pleasure he used to savor. Not of late. “Never mind. Can the locals deal with it?”
“I don’t think so. Our spies report a hundred thousand strong. We’ll need to move.”
“No.” Rook surprised himself. The answer was as firm as it was foolish. Of course, they should move against a hundred thousand enemies. "I'll stay here. Your last clear vision saw me—all of us—here, this summer, when our goal is finally accomplished. And yet…" He got up to his feet and all rose in response. Rook waved them down. "Sit. My chair is just uncomfortable." And he preferred to speak to them from a higher spot. "We have underestimated our enemy. We expected the lords of our city to stop them. For a month, they've raided our kingdom without failing once. The arrival of another force is the consequence of our inaction. So now, we must rid our land of enemies."
"If I may?" The duke of Stormhale was a formidable force. When he spoke, all listened. Even Rook. Most of the time. The man had taken him under his wing in his teens. Cared for him. For that, Rook showed him more patience than most.
"Yes, Father?" Rook prompted.
"It would be my honor to lead the forces heading east. Those heathens robbed me. Now they seek to rob our lands. Let me show them how we treat thieving low-lives in this kingdom."
"Perfect. Now for the west." Rook glanced to Aurelius. "What say you, brother?"
The blond-haired, blue-eyed boy sighed. "If you wish me to, I'll lead the forces heading west, of course. But I'd prefer to remain here. With my son."
Rook smiled. "Well, Kelina saw all of us here. You're off the hook this summer. We'll reassess if the war is prolonged past the season."
"Are we going to talk about the whore in your quarters?" Kelina asked.
Rook spun on his feet and growled before he'd even thought of it. His mind eventually caught up with his instincts. Then, he laughed. "Jealousy, dear? That does not become you."
"You're to be our king. You're to be our legend, our hero. You're to open these damn walls caging us in and let us see the rest of the world!" Her voice had risen to a shout. "There is talk in the castle. Soon, there will be talk in the street. If you're keeping a female who is not your queen, publicly, it undermines your position."
"You mean, unless that female happens to be you?" Rook questioned, before bowing his head toward Lord Stormhale. "Pardon me, Father."
"There's never any offense in saying the truth. Kelina, we have higher concerns than your feeling slighted on this council. If you can't concentrate on important matters, I suggest you return to your chambers."
The female was fuming. Rook fixed her with his gaze and entered her mind, reading her devious schemes. He rarely did so with her. Her mind was like poison.
"Kelina. I will only say this once and I expect you to understand it. I pray you understand it. Do not touch Kira. Do not think of harming her in any way. Should you do so, I will be obliged to treat you as an enemy. You know what I do to my enemies, sister."
He didn't think he'd ever threatened her before. He'd had no cause to until now. She averted her eyes, and he could feel she was tamed. For now.
"Again, who would ride west for me?"
All lords around the table volunteered.
Good. His attention had to stay focused on the one thing that mattered. For him. For his people.
Destroying those damn walls.
Eighteen
Northern Folk
After marching north for a week on foot in the snow, traversing a good hundred miles each day, Devi's feet had been begging for mercy. She'd healed herself and the others with elemental charms at dawn after they were done, and Gallal had accomplished what he could with herbs and salves, with only moderate relief. She had never been so glad to see Alarik.
Beyond the relief that riding provided, she'd also missed the animal. They'd bonded on their journey; his presence was comforting.
Devi rode with Telenar behind her, and Vale walked alongside her. He let Midnight carry Gallal and Jeryn.
The poor girl was bundled in furs and holding on to a blackstone for dear life. She was of the north, but she hadn't been dressed for a journey like the one she'd embarked on to find them. It was lucky she'd survived.
They'd spent the night in the mountains as discussed, and now they were heading to the first town surrounding the immortal city. Rayon, a small town Jeryn had picked because she had family with whom she hoped to stay for a while.
It was little more than a hamlet; there were a hundred houses built around a town square with a deep well.
"I doubt we'll see any scions here."
Jeryn snorted. "Unless it's time to collect taxes, probably not. If you head down this alley, my family lives in the house with the blue door, I think."
Gallal headed in the direction Jeryn pointed to as Vale brought his hand to Alarik's reins and said, "We should patrol around the town. See if there's any store where we might buy adequate clothing."
Though they still had the Corantian habits they'd purchased on their way to
Staren, the clothing marked them as foreigners from the east, which would incite questions. People dressed differently in each region of the realm.
Besides, Rula was more likely to be seen as she rode ahead, so Devi had given her the clothing. Gallal, Telenar, and Rula didn't have adequate disguises.
They rode around town, meeting curious and mistrustful eyes. All of the buildings appeared residential. There were no businesses at all.
"We're attracting too much attention," said Telenar.
"Unavoidable in such a small community. Here, it might be irrelevant, as long as they don't alert the authorities. Let's make a stop." Valerius put on his best smile and headed to the first door on their right. He knocked.
It took a whole minute for someone to open the door.
"Hello there. My companions and I are heading to Reguniev and we're almost out of supplies. May I enquire as to the best place to get what we need for the rest of our journey?"
The high fae male in front of him eyed them all, before echoing, "Reguniev, eh?"
He wasn't buying it.
Devi tensed on her saddle, half-expecting him to call for guards.
The villager crossed his arms in front of his chest and eyed Valerius first, then Devi. "You should hide your eyes. They all talk about them purple eyes. You have the kind of magic that can alter your appearance, right? And the lady has a reputation, too. They say she's stunning beyond belief, like a dark-haired goddess of death. Well, if Death came to me, I'd like her to look like you, that's for sure. Wear a cloak."
Devi dismounted Alarik. "Who talks about us?"
She exchanged a concerned glance with Vale.
The male snorted. "Who doesn't? That's a better question! That's all anyone wants to speak about at the pub. We hear news from the east, saying an army is claiming cities in the name of Valerius Blackthorn. And more whispers come from the west now. An armada from the sea, hey?" He grinned like this news warmed his heart. "Smells like change to me."
