by May Sage
“Gallal, my lady,” the elf replied.
“Well, Gallal, lead the way.”
Yes, please, Gallal, Vale mentally echoed. Lead the way and stop staring at her like you want a piece.
Not that he could blame the elf for that. Vale shook his head in disbelief at his own surge of anger, his urge to punch the other male. It wasn’t normal. Not in their world.
His own mother shared her bed with a few males. So did most high fae females. Evolution had shaped their society that way. Jealousy wasn’t in his DNA. It wasn’t natural.
And yet here he was. It had to be sorcery. He liked this theory, clung to it, ignoring the voice that told him it was a lie.
The ride through the woods was slow and punctuated with laughter and more flirting from the two behind him. He did his best to ignore it and failed, listening to every word.
“No, I promise you, the people will rejoice at seeing you safe.”
“I doubt that.”
“Your father gave us all clear orders from the day you left. We are to give you whatever aid you require of us.”
“Wait,” Vale interrupted, “didn’t you say you grew up in the north? Near Carvenstone? And yet I seem to understand from this blabbering that you lived in the Graywoods.”
“I did, on both accounts,” Devi replied. “My father took me to the winter court after my mother passed away. I stayed a year. But your mother and mine had arranged for me to go to court, so when I was of age, she called me.”
He wasn’t buying the tight, neat story. He would have pushed the issue if it weren’t for Gallal the Flirt. Whatever secret she had wasn’t for the ears of strangers.
Then he recalled that he’d met her not a week ago. Strangers was exactly what they were.
Irritated, Vale forced his mind to focus elsewhere—thinking of the war beat this. He was just wondering why his mother would have sent him here of all places when he caught a swift, unexpected change in the air.
“Devi, watch out!”
The soldiers in red and gold were on them within seconds, circling them.
Once, not so long ago, he would have taken them for high fae. Now he knew them for what they were. Corantians.
Devi drew her bow while Vale and Gallal both pulled their swords. Each passing instant seemed to last an eternity as the eleven scions approached.
The shortest one planted the sword in his hand deep in the ground, before removing his helmet. The creature truly resembled a fae in every way, but he also seemed brighter, as though an inner light illuminated him from within.
“I don’t suppose you remember me, Valerius Blackthorn.” The face was familiar; he’d seen it in Corantius. He couldn’t recall if he’d ever been told whose name belonged to it. “I was captain of the guard for you father, and his father before him. Derveran Jernel. Surrender and you have my word that your companions will be spared. I shall swear to it.”
Vale considered it for half a second, but an arrow flew, aimed right between the scion’s eyes. Looked like Devi was answering for him now. Oh well.
Derveran’s hand moved at an impossible speed, and caught it mid-flight, just as the tip of the arrowhead touched his skin.
The scion smiled maliciously, tilting his head and looking right to Devi.
“My, aren’t you delicious. Pray, bastard, do resist. I certainly would love a reason to play with your whore.”
Alright, that was enough of that. Vale drew the small knife at his belt and tossed it, accompanying the movement with a slight compulsion. The scion hesitated for one short instant, just a second. Seeing the blade approaching, the scion moved, but not fast enough this time: the knife drew a line of dark blue blood on his neck.
“You’ll find no easy target here,” Vale warned. Then, because he couldn’t lie, he had to add, “except him, maybe,” gesturing to Gallal.
“I guess we’ll find out.”
The eleven scions charged at once. Gallal had the sense to jump on the back of Devi’s dyrmount.
“Go!” he yelled, and the two steeds took off.
The mounts barely gave them an advantage: the scions were that fast. One of Vale’s hands lifted toward those at his left, farthest from him, and closest to Devi, as the other one lifted his sword to counter the blows coming his way.
Three of the scions slowed down and Devi took the opportunity to shoot at them, making one stumble, and the others take cover. Then she yelled, “Stop this!” Damn female. “Stop the fucking gallantry, I can take care of myself, and you need to stay alive.”
She wasn’t wrong.
Facing ahead, Vale urged Midnight forward with soft words. It looked as if their pursuers were finally losing some ground. Vale was just starting to breathe a little easier when a cloud of red and gold mist appeared right before them.
Dervan.
Devi's dyrmount spooked, and she was thrown off her horse. Vale leaped from his own, landing in a crouch beside her the next instant. He held two of his fingers to her throat and breathed out in relief. She had a pulse, but remained unmoving.
The flirty elf had his bow in hand and shot at the soldiers, each of his arrows hitting a mark. He was good. Not good enough. The enemies were too swift, too agile and lethal.
Still kneeling next to Devi, Valerius pulled his blade and waited, eyes closed, concentrating.
“A little help may not go amiss here!” Gallal yelled.
“In a moment,” Vale replied tightly while repeating familiar words in his mind, carefully removing every one of his shields.
Gallal didn’t seem to like his answer. “You’d let me fight alone against a dozen!” he yelled in outrage. “You faithless son of a—”
“I wouldn't go there if I were you.”
No one was insulting his mother.
At a distance, Gallal had a slight advantage with his bow, but the enemies were close now. A red and gold soldier launched at the elf, who pulled his weapon. He wasn’t half bad with a blade, but soon three other Corantians were upon him.
Then Vale regretfully pulled his hand from Devi’s throat. Her heartbeat was strong; she’d only hurt her head.
It struck him as odd that he cared. This wasn’t Vale. It was the dark prince. Vale would have expected him to abandon the female’s side without a second thought. But the prince abhorrent having to leave her.
He got up, violet eyes set on those who’d hurt her. The next instant, he lifted one hand and all scions froze, hands around their necks, attempting to unhook the invisible hands crushing their throat. But there was nothing there, nothing they could fight against. His fist tightened, and he smiled as they were close to choking. The scions gagged, desperate to breathe. Another second of this and they’d fall.
The dark prince dropped his hand, releasing them from his hold. It was too easy a death. Too neat. Too quick. They’d hurt Devi Star Rivers. For that offense, they would bleed.
The prince pulled his sword and moved faster than Vale could. His blows broke armor, slashing his enemies’ flesh at the groin, the arm, the neck. All eleven wounds he inflicted were fatal, but the scions would take a while to bleed out.
Scions were more powerful than ten fae, his mother had said, and the reason why he couldn't contradict her was because he'd never been able to explain to himself how he could move the way he did, with the power of a monster.
“Get on your knees, bastard.”
Vale turned slowly.
He hadn't felt this one slip by.
The creature had come from behind and had his arrow directly aimed at Devi.
“On your knees or your whore dies.”
“Whore?” the dark prince asked, his voice so much like Vale now, tinted with humor and delight. “I'm going to make this slow and painful. I'm going to enjoy this.”
“On your fucking—”
“Hold that thought.”
Vale's hand reached forward again, but instead of choking, his enemy screamed as his flesh burned like someone had thrown acid at his flesh.
&nb
sp; “I'm certain you'll wish to know that this trick only works on the weak-minded. It means you're a worthless piece of shit.”
The lowlife, who’d dropped his bow and started begging now, should be thankful the dark prince had other concerns. After enjoying his torment for a few instants, Vale twisted his wrist and broke the soldier’s neck.
His little games hadn’t been without cost. His energy had taken a hit, he could feel it. If another volley of enemies fell on them now, he’d be close to defenseless.
“What was that?” Gallal questioned, looking stunned.
The dark prince ignored him and moved back to Devi, pushing her hair away from her face. Her forehead was cut, bleeding.
Bleeding blue.
He added it to the million questions he was going to ask her someday and gathered her in his arms.
“Is she all right?” Gallal stood over them, concern in his eyes.
“She hit her head and got knocked out.” Her horse had spooked, but Midnight remained where Vale had left him. He took her to the horse and started walking next to it. “Lead the way. The fastest way. There will be others on our trail.”
And this time, he wouldn’t have the strength to destroy them with his mind.
As they walked in silence, Vale realized that he hadn’t sealed the darker part of himself inside him. He’d not said the words. And yet he was in control now; he hadn’t attacked Gallal, and his every movement toward Devi had been careful, almost tender.
He considered reciting the spells just to be safe, so he didn’t hurt anyone. But something told him that he would need his baser self again before it was over.
Long ago, in another time, a friend had told him that he would have to reconcile himself with who he was—what he was—for Valerius Blackthorn would never be whole without the dark prince. At the time, he hadn’t believed it possible. But he and the prince were in agreement about something, at least. As he watched Devi, still unconscious, both of them had one thought in mind. They’d keep her safe.
Gallal led him in silence until they’d reached a glade. There was a tall polished and sculpted stone carved amidst a high tree.
Vale was surprised to see nothing around it, not a guard or a building.
“Is this your portal?”
He’d believed it to be in the middle of the city of Daryn, not standing alone in the woods.
“Indeed. And it is better protected than you may think. Even in Daryn, not all elves have seen the Tree of Worlds. Those who do not know the way will never find it. They roam in the woods forevermore.” The elf gestured him forward. “After you.”
Vale frowned. “I’ve not used a portal before.”
“And you shall not again. Walk forward if you would. You’ll be led to the winter court. You may trust that I shall send our lady to safety.”
Vale didn’t know what to make of Gallal, but that, he could believe at least.
“I thank you for your help. If I may return it, one day, I will.”
The elf inclined his head in farewell as Vale strode toward the stone, one step after the next, until he’d reached it. Then he walked forward again. The horses didn’t like it much, but they did trot next to him.
For an instant, he felt weightless as a strange light engulfed him. Then a heavy air cooled his face, cooler than the snowy wood he’d just left. When he opened his eyes, he stood at the foot of a tall, proud white hill. Unmeltable, delicate ice sculptures had been carved there, and around them were steps cut into the stone of the hill, leading up to a city surrounded by clouds. Each monument was made in shining black stone.
He’d finally arrived at Elvendale, the winter court.
“Master.”
The traitor turned to the demigod of lesser blood who'd led the attack.
“Asra has fallen. We have the seelie king in our custody, along with all his advisors. However, we've failed to secure Valerius Blackthorn.”
Rage twisted his heart when he heard the name. It had always been disgusting to his ear, but now he truly hated the unworthy bastard.
“We randomly bumped into each other and, well, bumping a little more into each other seemed like a great idea at the time,” Devi had said, smiling at him like she was happy about lying with that filth.
Rook Stormhale would gut him, cut him up piece by piece for touching what belonged to him.
“You will bring him to me, Dervan.”
Dervan frowned. “Lady Kelina said we needed him dead.”
Rook tilted his head. “Are you questioning me?”
Dervan attempted to reply, but before a word came out of his throat, he bent in two, screaming at the top of his lungs, begging for the torture to stop.
The overking might have forsaken his bastards, but he'd been generous in sharing his lethal gifts.
His hunger for pain made Rook consider ending the fool at his feet, but he recalled that Dervan was a useful tool in his arsenal. Regretfully, he let go.
The large soldier got to his feet. “I'll give the order, my prince.”
Rook directed his attention elsewhere, already bored. Once he'd ensured his work was done in the city of night, he extended his wings and flew at full speed. Reaching Corantius took him an hour. A dragon might have been twice as slow.
He could have taken the time to gaze at the lands he passed, but they were of no interest to him. Besides, he'd done that commute every dawn for half a decade now.
Rook had spent his nights in Asra, when the court of night was awake, and his days in the court of crystal. He slept perhaps once a week. It was enough, for one of his kind.
“Hello, brother.” He hated when she called him that, and she knew it. “Pleasant surprise. I didn't expect you until dawn.”
Kelina greeted him at her balcony, wearing nothing but a bedsheet she held at her breast.
He smirked. “Asra fell in less than two hours.”
The advisor's daughter laughed. “I knew they were weak, but that's pathetic. But this is good news. You can keep me warm tonight.”
She turned on her heels and let go of the bedsheet.
“You know how screwed up you are? Calling me your brother and asking me to fuck you within ten minutes.”
The female looked over her shoulder and winked. “What should I call you, then? Pathetic little orphan my father took pity on? Bastard of the overking, thrown out to the wolves before you were even born?” she laughed. “I know. My favorite one: Prince of Worms.”
She knew what people got for calling him that. She wanted it. She wanted his rage and his pain and his suffering. He gave her just that, throwing her at the closest wall, spreading her legs, and fucking her like the hateful whore she was until they both came.
Kelina was him. She had his guts, his balls, his disgust, his violence, and powers just as formidable as his. He wished he could love her. She might have been a decent queen to the Isle.
But just as he hated himself, Rook hated her with all his dark heart. She was poison. She'd let him destroy the Isle once she was queen.
Rook had seen what it was to grow up with nothing in this accursed land. He'd crawled his way out, even when he had nothing to eat but worms.
This was why he had another queen in mind.
A beautiful creature of light with golden wings, who'd help him save the world once it was his. He'd be the pillar of strength and darkness. She would be the magnanimous light to counter it.
Just as soon as he had the reins of the entire continent in his iron fist.
Twenty-Two
Lords and Thrones
She woke up pissed, and with a serious headache, which didn't help matters. It was rare that her kind got any sickness or headaches at all, so when it occurred, it sucked.
Feeling Vale's distinctive presence next to her before she opened her eyes, she kept them closed and groaned.
“Tell me I did not just faint like a stupid damsel.”
“All right,” Vale agreed, “I won't say it.”
She opened one eye to know
where her target was and closed it again before slapping his shoulder. “Dick. What happened? How's Alarik? And Gallal?”
“So your priority order is the horse first, then the irritating elf poser. Interesting.”
That wasn't an answer. With difficulty, she sat up and finally opened her eyes.
She knew this room. She was familiar with the high stone walls held up by columns, the glassless opening leading to her balcony, and the carved sculptures around the curved doors. The bed was still perfect, firm like she liked, with soft covers of silk.
“The horse is fine.” As an afterthought, he added, “And so is the poser. I'm okay too, by the way."
She rolled her eyes. “I can see that.” She recalled the last second before Alarik spooked. They'd been surrounded. “We’re in the winter court,” she realized. She was in the very room she’d occupied in her father’s castle some thirteen years ago. “How did we get away? Did we get help?”
Vale smiled. “Aren't you cute, actually believing I need help against a few soldiers. But yes, we are indeed in your father’s court.”
She frowned. There had been more than a few, and they were more than foot soldiers too. Devi didn't still speak in terms of monsters and dragons. She knew what to call them now. She knew what they were. Shea had taught her many things about the world during their lessons.
“Vale, the Corantians are different. You have to be careful with them.”
“Different. What could you possibly mean? Perhaps they can make use of four elements and shoot ridiculously accurately in action. Perhaps they also have blue blood. Wait, that reminds me of someone else.” He watched her pointedly as she bit her lower lip. She was not supposed to talk of the scions; Shea had forbidden it.
Devi chuckled. “I'm not one of them.”
“I know. You're a seelie unseelie of the elven realm. Everything but them. They come from Corantius. You have the power of every consequential creature of this realm, except theirs.”
