by Sage, May
He didn't exactly sound upset about the fact that elves and fae were taking over his realm, just like Jeryn and many other fae. Regrettably, their loose tongues complicated matters.
"We aim to travel in secrecy," Vale told him.
If his brothers knew he was coming, they'd never make it past the doors of the immortal city.
The villager tsked, shaking his head. "We fair folk don't converse with the gods. We're too insignificant for their notice. However, whispering amongst ourselves may serve you well, Your Grace. For instance, birds whispered that a purple-eyed lord might be heading this way. So, we have food, and clothes and horses ready in the town square. Not great beasts like yours, but they'll suffice."
Vale twisted his expression into the bland mask he used whenever he didn't want to reveal what he felt, all while Devi could feel the turmoil inside him—inside her. They were one and his feelings were hers. He was terrified of taking on the weight of these people's expectations, scared to disappoint them, and perhaps even put them in danger by accepting their assistance.
If his feelings could reach and affect her, Devi reasoned hers might just calm his. So she told herself—and him—that he cared. Caring was enough. If he came into power, he'd do his best for them. If he failed, he'd do his best to see that no harm befell them.
He was enough.
The corner of Vale's lips twitched. "Thank you. This will not be forgotten," he said.
The villager nodded before closing his door, and they headed back to the town square, where two more horses loaded with supplies were indeed waiting.
Food, fresh bread that made Devi's stomach roar with anticipation, water, cloaks, and fur blankets.
This was not a rich village. They must have pooled all of their resources to provide that much for them.
"We should give them money."
"They aren't asking for money," Telenar interjected. "They're asking for a king in their corner. A greater request, in my opinion."
Nineteen
Lord of the Dale
The great, noble fae of Elderdale were not fond of feeding their children at the breast. Or teaching their children. Or having much to do with them, until they were old enough to hold a debate on the taste of berry wine.
Like most nobles, Devin had been placed in the arms of a lower fae servant the moment his courtesan mother had expelled him from her body. The lower fae, Medera, had just had a son herself: Jibriel. They were fed together, and later, taught together.
Many lords forgot their breast-brothers when they were old enough to frequent their peers. Devin insisted Jibriel join him in the Academy.
Jibriel's father was never discussed, although Devin suspected that he must have been a high or at least common fae, because while he didn't have magic, Jibriel was stronger and faster than Devin at hand-to-hand combat. He was also clever.
When they graduated, Devin saw that his friend joined the Royal Guard. Now, they were too busy to meet often, but still they made time for each other whenever they could.
Devin had been sparring with Jibriel since they were children, and he'd never even come close to beating him without his magic. He hadn’t realized how much Shea's tutelage had changed him until he got Jibriel on his ass.
The fae stared at him in disbelief, and laughed, getting back on his feet.
"Oh, it's on."
At Jibriel's first lunge, as fast and precise as it was powerful, Devin started to suspect that his friend had always gone easy on him. He managed to parry that attack, despite requiring all of his strength. Before he had time to regroup, Jibriel drew his arm back and leaped in the air, landing right next to Devin. He thrust the blade at him again, aiming for his breastplate-covered heart. Jibriel stopped when it hit against the protection. If they'd been fighting for real, he could have effortlessly pushed it past.
"You're dead, Your Highness."
"How strong are you, exactly?" Devin knew his breast-brother had never lost a fight, but this was ridiculous; his every movement seemed effortless.
Jibriel shrugged. "I do well enough."
"You should be guarding me." If Jibriel had been with him in the unseelie realm, things might have ended differently. "In fact, you shall."
Jibriel shook his head. "That's not how that works, you know it. The king is guarded by knights, people with the right name and the right ancestors. Not bastards. They might put up with me in the guard because we're friends. However, if you promoted me to a place I haven't earned, there would be a riot."
Devin snorted. "Who says the name is right? Who says you matter?"
Jibriel sighed. "The gentry."
"The king. As it happens, that's me. I left Elderdale with traitors who made underhanded deals with Corantius, and you know what happened. I only survived because of luck. Because they underestimated me. I need to be surrounded by people I trust if I'm to weather this storm." And he could count the people he trusted on one hand. "Say yes, Lord Jibriel."
His friend laughed. "That sounds weird. Lord of what, exactly?"
"You could have the Rivers lands. Their heir refused them."
"The Rivers lands are one of the largest estates in our realm. You'd make me more powerful than half your advisors."
"As I said, I need men loyal to me in places of power." Devin didn't make this request lightly. If he gave an irrelevant duchy to Jibriel, the lords would keep ignoring and belittling him. No matter his origins, the lord of Rivers would be of consequence in their realms.
"Why now?" Jibriel wondered out loud. "You could have done something like that anytime, even before you were king. No one would have questioned you giving away title and territories. You were the heir of the realm. So, why are you giving titles now?"
Devin thought it through. "I never would have guessed that you cared. That you wanted to be a noble."
"I don't want to," Jibriel replied. "Titles are nonsense to me. It won't change who I am, in or out. But a post in your guard? That means something. Still, you're not answering the question. Are you scared something might happen to you here?"
Devin's eyes darted to the door. "I wasn't meant to come back from Asra. Everyone who maneuvered to make me leave the realm has been plotting against me. I have many enemies and I don't know for sure who they are." That wasn't strictly true. "Except for my father. He's clearly against me."
It had never made sense why Kraven, at the peak of his health, had given him the throne. He'd meant to get rid of him. Which begged the question: why?
Jibriel whistled. "So, we're at war with the King Father. And possibly everyone else."
That covered it.
"What about the unseelie queen?" Jibriel asked.
Devin laughed. "Well, that's the one person we don't have to worry about. I was at her mercy for a month, and all she did was train my incompetent ass."
"Ah! Well, that explains why you almost made me break a sweat today."
Almost.
"You'd get along," Devin said. "And I'd pay to see you fight her."
If only to see Jibriel on his ass, for once.
"Yeah, right. Me, getting along with a queen."
"Why not? You're a fancy lord now."
His friend grimaced. "That's going to take some getting used to." After a beat, he asked, "So what are we going to do about them? The king, the advisors, everyone who's scheming right now."
Devin had wondered the same thing and come out without any answer since they'd entered the city. Now, he suddenly knew. Having Jibriel by his side had reminded him that with the right people next to him, he could feel stronger.
"I have an idea, actually. Could you call for a meeting with my advisors for me, for sundown? All of them, and Shea too. I need to get changed."
Despite his coronation, Devin had kept wearing his simpler clothing, and he'd removed the crown from his head as fast as he could after it had been placed on it.
Two hours later, he entered the council chamber in blue and silver damask, with a silk scarf around his shoulder
, wearing his sword on his hip and the cumbersome, heavy silver crown on his head. Jibriel shadowed his steps.
His twelve advisors and the unseelie queen sat around a triangular table. Kraven had taken one angle of the triangle, and Shea, the other. The third remained vacant for him.
He remained still and wordless, standing next to his seat, until one of the lords had the decency to stand and bow.
"Your Grace," said Edevan Luwss.
He was the lord of war, protecting the borders of their lands north and west, everywhere except the coast.
Devin inclined his head toward him. Taking a cue, the other advisors stood. All save for Shea and Kraven.
"Good. Now that you're on your feet, you may get out. All of you."
They watched him with horror and hatred, barely veiled. Shea grinned, amused and, unless he was mistaken, proud. But not surprised.
"Sir…"
"I suppose you may remain, Luwss. Let it not be said that I do not reward common sense. The rest of you can find yourselves another king to counsel."
The deep, grave timbre of Farekin Persevel resounded in the entire room as he roared, "We have been serving the realm for longer than you have lived, boy!"
"Yes, and then you betrayed the realm. All of you, some of you, I care not. I will make the decisions brought to my attention alone, until I can vouch for advisors who will not betray me. Father, you may also go."
Now, he sat, pulling a stack of paper to him. They were the letters from the lords of each corners of the realm, detailing the issues they were facing.
The advisors remained on their feet, too shocked to move, but finally, the first cursed and walked away. Edevan took his seat.
Kraven was last to get up and walk away, then he stopped at the door, and turned back to his son.
"You will regret this."
"You will regret attempting to have me killed, Father. Next time you move against me, I suggest you don't miss. Otherwise, I'll have your head, as well as anyone still loyal to you."
Kraven's nostrils flared. Nevertheless, he finally walked away.
"Well, that's certainly a lot more comfortable," Shea stated. "Now, what's your decision about this war, seelie king?"
"I'll hear your counsel, first. You've left your city, your realm, to come here. I don't think you've ever told me why. It's time we talk. Queen to king."
"Yes, I believe it is." Shea's gaze lifted toward his new knight. "What do they call you?"
"Jibriel, Your Grace."
"Well, sit. If there's one person standing in the room, I prefer it to be me."
He didn't need to be told twice.
She glanced at Edevan before focusing on Devin again. "In a few days, perhaps a week—my visions do not come timestamped, unfortunately—the walls around the continent will fall."
Devin's eyes widened in horror and his expression was mirrored by the lord of war and Jibriel, all while Shea carried on as if she hadn't just told him that their world was ending.
"The orc lords know the secrets of Asra—its hidden passages, its weaknesses—as well as I. Asra will fall. The gates of Carvenstone, the other ancient land of my people, have already been breached by a force I could not have prevented. It would take a thousand sorcerers to rebuild the spells around the place. Elderdale will stand. If it is well protected," she added.
The certainty of her claim was the only comfort he could find.
"If the walls fall…how many orcs will we face?"
"There are billons scattered around the dead seas and the barren wastelands. Reaching us will take them some time. Time is our ally. The walls may be rebuilt. As long as another overking is crowned in time."
Devin exchanged a glance with two seelie in the room.
"What would you advise, Shea?"
"We'll recall the villages surrounding Elderdale, make everyone too far to reach us find shelter either in their lords' keeps, or in the Graywoods. The elves who remain there will harbor them. Then, we close the gates of Elderdale and prepare for a siege. But the real war is north. Our purpose here is to protect the people who cannot fight for themselves. I say, send soldiers you trust—the best you can spare—to take the portal of Daryn and join the forces in the north. The folks of Carvenstone have landed on the western coast of Corantius. The elves are attacking the east. However, they may not be enough. If the orcs swarm the immortal city before the overking rises, there will be no hope for any creature on the Isle."
"Even if our soldiers set out now, would they arrive on time?" Edevan asked.
"The portal will make them appear at the borders of Elvendale, cutting out half the journey. And if they ride our dyrmounts, then yes. They will."
Silence fell as Devin deliberated. "Very well. Lord Luwss, you have your orders. Send the city guard to aid the surrounding villages in their evacuation. See that messages are sent to ensure the rest of the realm gets to safety. Jibriel, you'll command the guard. Luwss, the knights are yours. Shea Blackthorn, will you protect this city, and this realm?"
The unseelie queen nodded. "That's why I'm here."
"Isn't it your duty?" Jibriel was confused for all of two seconds. Then he shook his head in disbelief. "You can't mean to go north."
"We have fifty dyrmounts. We can contribute fifty soldiers to the real fight. Do you think that would make a difference?"
"And how would your sacrificing yourself help anything?" Luwss raved.
"Because I can command the hundred thousand gryffins who live in our realm."
There was silence around the room, at first.
"Succession," Luwss stated. "You will make the matter of succession clear, in case your body rots under the snow in a month’s time. I won't bow to your father again, understood?"
Then Jibriel turned to Shea. "Is he? Going to rot."
"Some things are yet unclear."
Devin's heart sank. But then, she added, "Others are not. Your king will see another summer."
Twenty
Horn
Elden had questioned his promise the moment it had crossed his lips. Still, the words were out and could not be unsaid. He'd told his daughter and the fae prince that his army would support them, support their claim, if they managed the impossible.
He hadn't done it without cause. The sword and the crown rendered Valerius Blackthorn the single most powerful being on the Isle, whether he knew it or not.
The elven realm had been built to escape the wars of the realm, to ensure that his people stayed safe. Waging war on foreign soil wasn't their nature, or their purpose.
But for all that, he had to admit, it was rather fun.
He'd long despised the ways of Corantius, and taking their cities, turning them into what they should have been all along, havens of peace for fae and the remnants of humanity, was an incomparable pleasure.
Besides, Elden hadn't had the opportunity to stretch his muscles for some time. There were some scions who did almost pose a challenge.
Qirdess, the lord of Beraniel was a well-known warrior. He stayed behind his walls, letting his men die for him, while Loxy's forces held a siege for five days. Then, his people had snuck past the guards and opened the gates. Qirdess finally stepped out, along with a hundred knights.
"May I?" Loxy asked, watching him sway his axe as he rose to meet them in the field.
Elden wouldn't have civilian deaths on his head; he'd waited for him out of the city.
"You've had your fun for five days," Elden reminded her. "And you dispatched the lord of Denere, too."
She pouted—by far her most terrible weapon. Fortunately, he'd known her for long enough to grow indifferent to it.
"How about a wager?" Elden proposed, pulling a gold mark out of his cloak. "Heads for the lady?"
"I think not. If you propose heads, I'll take the tail."
"Do you believe me dishonorable? How shocking."
"I just know you usually get what you want, one way or another."
Elden made no answer.
Y
es, he was used to things going his way. He planned details to ensure victory, always a step or two ahead of everyone else.
His most obvious move had been to send Kira away. The hotheaded girl was his pride and joy—he loved her as much as he loved her sister. They were his flesh, his mind, his power.
Unlike Devira, Kira was alone, weaker than she liked to believe, and too prone to jump head first into danger.
It had been a month since he'd received any news of her. His spies around the Isle, be they birds, beasts, or fae, had no word of her—not since the fall of Carvenstone.
If they won this rebellion, if they enthroned Valerius, a king who'd be fair to all on the Isle, but the cost for that victory was his daughter's blood, he would have lost the only fight that mattered.
"You're thinking of her, are you not?"
Elden lifted his eyes to Loxy. He often forgot she was their mother. Their coupling had been without much emotion, and they hadn't exactly co-parented either child.
"Which one?"
"Your favorite."
Elden laughed. "I don't have a favorite daughter."
"You so do. Clearly."
"Fine. Which one is my favorite?"
"Devira."
That showed how well the female knew him.
Elden launched the coin in the air and caught it in his palm. He extended his hand to let Loxy see the result.
"Heads." She groaned. "You knew I'd pick tails. You baited me into it."
"You're so very mistrusting, dear. Now excuse me. I have an idiot to dispatch to hell."
Elden dismounted his horse, lest the barbarian aim his axe at his loyal beast, and walked forward. "May I?" he asked, passing one of his foot soldiers, hand extended.
The female bobbed her head and handed him her lance.
He didn't need to use his sword for the likes of Qirdess the Coward.
