by LJ Rivers
We sat beside her, Jen and me to her left, Char, Jack, and Erica to her right. Brendan, however, was still on duty, sending Junipers left and right to guard the perimeter. A flood of people wandered out from the forest, and Brendan made a gesture to the Junipers to let them pass. The Gwyntali’s attire was similar to their packmaster’s, save for the copper embellishments, and they were a mix of young and old, both male and female. Five children sprinted across the glade, chasing something I couldn’t see, while a man hurried after them.
“Dina, Ulian! It’s time for bed.”
The children giggled and sped up, and I noticed Charlie eyeing them too, an amused look on her face. From a hut opposite us, a woman emerged with a baby nestled in her arms. A man came to join her, taking the baby from its mother while kissing her gently on the forehead. A young boy of maybe around six peeked out of the hut, then went to hide behind his mother’s baggy trousers, his eyes peering at the scene before him.
My heart warmed as I took it all in. This was a pack, a large family. Parents, elders, and children.
“This!” Jen sighed contentedly. “Is how it’s meant to be.”
“It used to be so much more,” Morgana said in a mournful tone. “I used to fly with the Gwyntali as a child. They’re fast, ferocious hunters, and they taught me so much. Naheena’s father was packmaster back then, and the forest was vibrant and full of life. So much has changed, and yet Naheena manages to guide her people well in these trying times.”
“So, they choose leaders based on bloodlines too?” I asked. How did that work when the packmaster didn’t have children?
“Not exactly. Naheena certainly had an advantage of being the former packmaster’s daughter, but she had to prove herself worthy. She had plenty of challengers, and many did not want her to lead.”
“How come?” Charlie asked.
“Considering her choice of mate, she will never have a child of her own, and the wolves are all about family. But she attacked every challenge with a ferocity rarely seen, and the pack respected her more because of it.”
“I can feel her power,” Jack said. “Even now. It’s as if she’s calling for me.”
“I know what you mean,” Erica said.
I looked at Jen, expecting her to agree, but she had her eyes fixed on the flames. I nudged her with my shoulder. “You feel it too?”
She shrugged. “My wolf recognises her as another Alpha. To be honest, it feels more as if she, my wolf that is, wants to challenge Naheena.”
“That, young wolf,” Morgana said, “would be unwise.”
Jen nodded. “I’ll keep my alter ego on a leash.”
In little time, the entire pack had gathered around the fire pit. Food and drinks were served, stories told, and laughs given. All the while, however, Morgana kept looking up, as if trying to see beyond the treetops, staring north. I felt her nerves as though they were my own. My father would be here soon, and all our fates would be sealed come tomorrow.
Chapter Eleven
We spent the entire morning in Naheena’s hut, discussing tactics and possible threats. Pullhelli had taken the lead on all things Auberon, as if he knew my father better than anyone else. For all I knew, maybe he did. He spoke of my father’s motivations, goals, and dreams, as well as his cunning and devious nature. After looking at potential outcomes from every angle possible and impossible, it was time to leave.
Apart from Naheena, Evonny, and three other wolves from the Gwyntali pack, the rest of them stayed behind to prepare for the hunters’ union that would take place in the evening. From what I could gather, it was a wedding of sorts. Morgana, on the other hand, brought almost everyone in our group, with the exception of Charlie, who stayed behind with Jack and Erica. Brendan had carefully selected scouts and archers to stay hidden and ready in case anything went south. As Swordmaster, Brendan wouldn’t be joining me when confronting my father, as he had to take charge of the Junipers. His new job was beginning to annoy me a little, even though I was proud of his achievements. I just wanted more time with him than I was given.
The primes, Morgana, and I would be the only ones to communicate directly with Auberon and whoever he brought to the meeting. Part of his later demands had been the number of people taking part in the peace talks. A mixed bag of emotions swirled around in my stomach. Part of me was anxious, looking forward to seeing him again, while another part of me didn’t want to see him at all. Conflicted as I was, the eleventh hour was almost upon us as we strode into Gwyn Tala Glade once more.
The day was eerie, cast in a dim, grey light, interspersed with the orange hues from the torchlight. A thick fog was drifting above the grass, and the humidity in the air was tangible. The silence was weighing heavily on my shoulders as I waited with bated breath. Morgana stopped about twenty feet into the glade, making the rest of us halt next to her. Pullhelli moved to the queen’s other side, with Taryn and the primes behind us. There was a definite chill in the air, which crept steadily into my bones like a promise of doom. That could only mean one thing. My father was close.
The trees ahead rustled in the wind, branches creaking and groaning with every gust. I sucked in a breath when I saw him. My father emerged from the treeline, his cloak billowing behind him, and his cane swinging by his side. As it had been in my vision, his hair was longer, and his beard had grown.
Morgana gaped. “He looks just like Merlin,” she murmured. “I mean, they always looked alike, but—”
I touched her arm briefly. “He has changed. But he is not his father.”
She looked at me, then nodded.
Behind Auberon, more figures emerged, though I had difficulty recognising everyone through the mist. There was one person, however, who caught my eye. My blood simmered in my veins at the sight of her. I was no longer cold, but boiling. Gemma sauntered next to my father, a sly grin on her evil face. I used to think she was pretty, cute even, but looking at her now, all I saw was wickedness.
Another face came into view as my father’s troops moved closer. My throat constricted, and I cast a quick look behind me to find Charlie wide-eyed and mouth agape, standing a few feet behind us. She wasn’t supposed to have come, but at least she got to see this with her own eyes.
Rowan stepped forward, filling the empty space on my father’s left, his dark hair obscuring his eyes. I had half a mind to run up to him and smack him over the head. Until now, I hadn’t been sure, but seeing him here made everything clear as day. He had tried to kill me. Did my father really want me dead or had Rowan gone rogue? Perhaps he missed and had meant to kill Morgana, although that didn’t add up with the skilled archer I knew him to be. However, I didn’t think my father would want me dead either. Something didn’t add up. Reminding myself that this was for peace, I stood my ground, leaving Rowan and Gemma to feel my wrath another time. And there would be a reckoning.
More people followed, including two Satyrs, a few wolves, and plenty of soldiers. I recognised Reeve Yeats first. His potbelly was larger than I remembered, and his eyes glowed red. His lips curved into a frightening grin as he inclined his head at me in a mocking gesture. He tugged at the chain in his hand, and I noticed a Goblin woman at the end of it, where it was fastened around her neck. A slave. I looked away, catching the red eyes of the other Satyr. He was bigger than Yeats, his fur a coal-black colour, and his horns disturbingly large. While I had never seen him in real life until now, I recognised him from one of Willow’s stories. And not one of the happy ones. A young boy in his early teens kneeled beside the Satyr slavemaster, his head lowered submissively. Cuts and bruises covered his bare back and shoulders, as if he had spent an entire lifetime under the whip. I cringed as I realised he probably had. The boy looked up at his master, and the torchlight illuminated his face. He wasn’t a man, but a Goblin. And he looked familiar. Tucked in his belt was a small wooden stick figure.
It couldn’t be, could it?
But I knew it had to be. This was the boy Bellion had taken all those years ago that I saw in W
illow’s story, the boy whose family Bellion had killed. He was still alive. Barely, that was. Why wasn’t he in chains? He was clearly mistreated, so perhaps he was so injured that Bellion didn’t even bother to restrain him. Was this how my father allowed his slaves to be treated?
I turned my attention to Auberon, my eyes narrowing.
The bastard managed to flash me a warm smile. Only a few feet separated us when he raised his cane, and his entire force came to a halt. “Ruby! I’m delighted to see you again.”
“Can’t say the feeling is mutual.”
He chuckled, in that gentle kind of way I remembered. Damn him for his dual personality. “And Aunt Morgana. It’s been a long time. Fifteen hundred years long. Well, give or take from whichever side of the portal we were on.”
“Sisterson,” Morgana said coolly. “I hope today we might be able to put the past behind us.”
“For you, it’s been no more than nineteen dark moons. For me, it’s been several lifetimes. You banished me to an eternity in darkness. What we have in Gwyn Fanon is more light than I got to see in all my years in The Realm of Shadows. Such a cruel punishment, wouldn’t you agree?” He was talking to Morgana, but looking at me as he said the last words. But I wasn’t giving him my sympathy, not today.
Morgana clasped her hands in front of her. “At the time, I saw no other way, though things are different now. It is my hope that time has made you wiser, and that we might come to an agreement that serves all parties involved this time around. Without lives lost in the process.”
My father raised his chin. “You’re not even sorry about what you did to me?”
“I—” Morgana paused, then took a step closer to Auberon. “I am sorry that you suffered, I never wanted that, but I made the only choice I could at the time.”
Flames stirred around my father’s hands, an inch above his skin. “Why should I leave you sitting on my throne?”
“It was never yours. But I realise we will never agree on that, so let us instead find out what we can agree on, shall we?”
“Your offer?”
Pullhelli stepped forward with a scroll in his hand. “We have here an agreement we would like you both to sign if you will agree to the terms.”
“Uncle,” Auberon said, taking me by surprise. “You look … well, older.”
My jaw slackened as I looked between the two men. His uncle? What did that mean? Pullhelli was a Sorcerer, so the only conclusion I could garner from this was that he had to be Merlin’s brother, which in turn made him my family as well. I stared at the old man, unsure of what to make of this new, surprising information.
My father gestured at the scroll. “Read it.”
Pullhelli rolled the scroll open. “Morgana of Fay, Queen of Avalon and the Southern Isles, Protector of Talani, Awarnach, and Ygrenya, Defender of the Realm hereby states that by the agreement of peace and the surrender of the Avalonian throne, King Auberon of Merlin, Sorcerer of Mount Dewin, will rule Mynydd Dewin, and Queen Morgana will rule Avalon as it stands today. Neither will attack the other. In good faith, Queen Morgana of Fay will provide King Auberon with a substantial amount of Enchantium.” Pullhelli cleared his throat, looking up. “I will add the quantity as is decided here today.”
“Very well. Continue.”
“The parties in question agree to work together on the matter concerning the Fall of Light. Both parties will put erudites and wisemen at the other’s disposal, so they may make a joint effort to return the sun’s light. Both parties will give the other access to their discoveries and research in this matter. Lastly, Avalon will relinquish the ban on Sorcerers, and once again approve of any Sorcerer and Fae unions, opening the borders once more to all with Sorcery powers if they so wish.”
That last part surprised me. I hadn’t known Morgana would put that in the agreement, but it made me smile. It would make me a little less of an abomination in this world.
“I have left a few lines open if you wish to add to the agreement,” Pullhelli said.
“Let me get this straight.” Auberon looked at Gemma, who snickered up at him. “They want me to relinquish my rightful throne in exchange for collaboration.”
“Sounds like a shit deal to me,” she said.
I wanted to shut her up with something heavy. Preferably my fist.
“It does, doesn’t it?” Auberon replied, turning to Rowan. “And you, Rowan, what do you think.”
“I agree with Captain Gemma. It’s a, how did she put it? Shit deal.” Rowan had his hands clasped on a longbow, his eyes journeying to a spot behind me.
“You see,” Auberon turned back to Morgana, “while I appreciate your willingness to allow Sorcerers to once again wander freely in Avalon and its adjoining realms, that part of the agreement was hardly made for my benefit, but rather for Ruby’s.”
“She is your daughter,” Morgana said. “One would think you would like for your daughter to be recognised.”
“But that is something I can do all on my own, Aunt. I do not need you for that. As for the Enchantium, however, I can’t deny it interests me. But what I want is the lake. If you can give me the core from Nimue’s lake, I’ll relinquish my rights to the Avalonian throne.”
“The core? Have you gone mad? If I remove the Enchantium core from Nimue’s resting place, the Fae will suffer. And what of your mother? She might disappear forever.”
“Nimue is dead, Morgana.” Auberon sounded wistful, almost regretful. “That thing living in the lake isn’t her. It has some of her memories and powers, drawing on the Enchantium to make her into almost a deity of sorts, but that being is not my mother.” His voice deepened, flames dancing in his irises. “I want the core, or this peace talk ends now.”
Chapter Twelve
Pullhelli—whose relation to my father still rattled my brain—cleared his throat. “Might I suggest we discuss the matters in the agreement? Surely, there is some common ground to be found between the two of—”
“It’s not a difficult concept to grasp, Uncle Pulli,” my father replied. “Remember when I used to call you that?” Without waiting for a reply, he fixed his gaze on Morgana. “I gather you’ve had quite a few eyes roaming my land, Aunt Morgana. And they have told you how many soldiers I have at my disposal. Let’s be honest about the issues at hand, shall we?”
Morgana arched an eyebrow. “And that is?”
“This.” Auberon waved his hand at everyone standing on his and our side. “All of this is your desperate attempt at preventing me from marching on Avalen and claiming my throne. You know full well how strong my army is, and I have no intention of hiding it. In fact, you could have spared a couple of lives by simply asking.”
As if on cue, Gemma stepped forward and dumped a leather bag on the ground. She pulled on the drawstring and kicked the bag. It toppled over, and two heads rolled out, both with their eyelids sewn shut with black thread.
Bile rose in my throat, and two burning orbs appeared in my palms before I could even consider stopping them. Seeing Gemma’s smirk, I wasn’t sure I would be able to withhold them. It was as if they had a will of their own.
“Your Scoutmaster didn’t report anyone missing?” the conniving fox said.
Morgana ignored her. Instead, she motioned to Lord Sanctor. “Could you see to it that the remains of Qoar and Reyn are taken to their families?”
“As Your Highness commands.” The Goblin prime didn’t hesitate for a second and picked up the two heads and stuffed them under his cloak.
“Your father would never have stooped so low, Auberon.”
The Sorcerer king shrugged. “I think you have forgotten more than you remember about my father. But then, your eyes were always veiled when it came to him. One should not lust after one’s sister’s beloved. Then again, I admit beheadings might not be entirely my style, but I’m not one to question my captain’s methods of stopping spies from illegally entering my kingdom.”
Morgana lifted her hand, as if she wanted to reach out to Auberon, then
let it fall against her side. “Merlin and I were never an item, Auberon, you must know that there was never more between us than friendship.”
“Must I? No, I don’t think I must. I saw you two sneaking around. If it hadn’t been for your betrayal, my mother would have lived, and Merlin too. So, you see, the blame is really yours to bear.”
Morgana shook her head, and I could tell she wanted to object, but she didn’t. I splayed my fingers, expanding the fire in my palm.
“What’s the matter, Ruby?” Gemma asked. “Eat something that didn’t agree with you?”
I didn’t reply.
“That’s enough, Captain. Fall back in line.” Auberon nodded at my hands. “And I suggest you pocket those, Princess.”
Morgana glanced at the growing flames and tilted her head at me. Gemma kept staring at me as she retreated to her position behind my father, grinning while I retracted my fireballs.
“As I was saying,” Auberon continued. “My soldiers outnumber yours three to one. Adding that one Sorcerer equals five Fae on the battlefield, I think the only sensible outcome of this meeting—for you and your people—is to give me the Enchantium core.”
Morgana shook her head. “I might as well stick a spear in every Avalonian’s heart myself. Were you to control the Enchantium, whoever sits on Avalon’s throne makes no difference at all. You know this, and you know I cannot accept such a preposterous claim.”
Auberon put his index finger on his chin. “So, let me see if I get all this. You came all the way up here to tell me I can have a small part of Enchantium, and that your erudites will assist my learned Sorcerers in bringing the light back to the sun. Is that about it?”
Gemma stepped forward again and tapped his shoulder. He leaned down so she could whisper something in his ear.
