by Mary Weber
“Exactly!” Breck murmurs.
I ignore her and keep my gaze on Colin. “I promise you, I will do what needs to be done when the time comes.”
His gaze is worried. For me. For my safety. I can see it in the flexing of his brow.
“Please. I need this.”
His sigh is slow. But when he utters it, I know I’ve won.
It’s followed by a grin. “You’re lucky I like you, storm girl.”
I reward him with my own sad smile. “Thanks. If I’m not back by dark, take the fortress down anyway.”
CHAPTER 31
ONCE WE FREE THE HORSES, IT’S A SWEATY, hour-long descent down a treacherous goat path, which Colin maneuvers with ease even as he’s angrily shifting dirt around to help Breck. His fury at her insistence on coming with us just about matches her mood at me, making the already-painful hike even more awkward.
I bite my lip.
Stay above and demolish a fortress of men I’ve never met.
Or drag my friends closer to danger . . .
I look at Colin. He didn’t have to come.
Swallowing, I pull from the wide fog bank that’s accumulating along the cliff, cloaking us, and just concentrate on descending with my dull-aching leg and cramped hand as the sound of the airships grows louder. Their noise ricochets off the valley floor along with the clanking war preparations.
As we near the tiny gray fortress, I see it’s made up mainly of a parapet between two turrets—one attached to a slightly lower, round building, the other to three stone lodges all crammed into a giant courtyard. At first glance, the outer surrounding wall appears wide, until I realize that the courtyard is almost level with it—a design of convenience allowing the guards to easily peer over the side and down the hundreds of feet it drops, where the only point of entry is up the steep, narrow stone walkway. Or down the mountainside we’ve just come.
When we reach the wall, we wedge ourselves against an ice-dusted rock to watch the guards walk by without being seen. At this level, the atmosphere feels as if it’s crawling with that dark presence.
“Close enough for you?” Breck growls to Colin, her ear tilted, listening.
I give her shoulder a reassuring pat, which she yanks away from.
Colin puts his hand to the ground and slowly raises the other, as if to say he’s counting the number of guards he feels through vibrations in the earth. His fingers come up, one, two, three. Fourteen guards he indicates, but that’s not what’s got my attention. Through the fog, one shuffles by. He’s wearing the cloak of Faelen.
I frown and look at Colin, whose expression turns confused.
Let’s get closer, he mouths, beckoning toward the frosty, shingled top building farther along the mountain from us. He pantomimes to ask whether I think I can jump to it if we move closer.
I shake my head. Not with my leg burning and the medicine wearing off.
I point to an open window near ground level of the closest round turret. “What if we drop into the courtyard and climb in?” I murmur.
He glances from the window, to me, to Breck. Chews his lip. His agreement only coming once he’s certain we’ve got the guards’ routine down and he’s begged Breck to stay put. She consents, but that queer smirk is on her face again. It makes me twitch.
When Colin’s ready, I wait for him to jump before easing myself into his arms. Then I press him toward the window.
He uses his fingers as a stirrup to help me through before creating handholds for himself—quickly joining me inside on a shallow loft that overlooks the sunken, circular room. The place is empty except for a desk, three chairs, and a lit fire. I push my hood back.
Colin’s just leaning forward when voices float in from outside. The speakers’ sharp comments go back and forth, incomprehensible. Then fade.
When we’re sure they’re gone, we sneak down the creaky set of steps leading into the large room.
Colin listens at the first door while I head for the desk on which sits a quill pot and a scroll, both smelling of fresh ink. I glance at the bald boy, who’s moved on to the second door, before I open the lengthy, tightly written paper.
I narrow my gaze.
It’s an agreement of some kind. With King Odion’s signature.
“Colin, come look at this,” I whisper.
Suddenly he’s beside me, grabbing my arm and shoving me toward the stairs. I toss the scroll on the table and scramble up the shadowed steps. I bite my tongue as a shock of pain wells up my leg. Climbing down a cliff wasn’t my brightest idea today.
Colin slips his hand to squeeze mine just as the door opens and four men enter. Two knights, neither of whom are wearing identifying surcoats, are followed by two men in brown cloaks shrouding their faces.
The knights each move to guard a door while one of the cloaked men strides to the fire. The other moves to the desk and bends over the scroll, tapping his fingers on it. One minute, two minutes. Colin nudges me and gestures. Those are the Bron generals. What are we waiting for?
The tapping stops. “As you can see, our position is more than generous to the Faelen people,” the man says, turning our direction.
Beside me, Colin gasps. My chest deflates as if a storm of needles has just slammed into it.
I swallow and count the reasons I shouldn’t kill the beautiful man right here and now. Until I peer closer and realize there’s an arrogance to his green eyes that Eogan doesn’t have. A cruelty. Which means it’s King Odion standing here, not his twin.
But Odion? What’s he doing here?
I lift my hand and feel the atmosphere spark. It doesn’t matter why he’s here. This is better than Adora or Eogan could’ve even imagined. It will be quick for him. For them. My stomach knots even though I know I can prevent the horror that is to come when Bron takes over.
King Odion turns away.
I stand. And wait. At least he should have the honor of seeing his attacker’s face before death. The static in my blood is just snapping when the man at the fireplace glances right at me.
He freezes.
I hesitate.
Slowly, he reaches up and pulls back his hood. Revealing the sandy-brown hair and young, tired face of King Sedric.
He raises a brow at me but hurriedly directs his words to King Odion. “I need more time to consider. An hour, if I may, for such a decision,” he adds, as I retreat into shadow.
King Odion clears his throat and, after a moment, clicks his heels together. “I will hold off my forces one hour. If your signature is not on this treaty by then, the blood of your people is on your head.”
Without waiting for a response, he turns, and one of the knights follows him out the door.
“You may go as well, Rolf,” King Sedric says to the other knight, whom I now recognize from Adora’s parties as his captain of the guard. The door has hardly shut behind him before the king’s voice rings louder. Sharper. “Come here, both of you.”
We obey, bowing when we draw near, my gaze meeting his scrutiny of me even as I take in the wrinkles and exhaustion sunk into his skin. How did he get here? And when?
“Have a seat.” He holds my stare before moving on to eye my hair. “I must admit that I’ve heard rumor a female Elemental existed. However, I wasn’t aware she’d been in my presence quite regularly.”
I dip my head. “My king, I apologize for the deception.”
“Are you a Uathúil as well?” he asks Colin without moving his eyes from me.
“Yes, Your Majesty. I’m Terrene.”
He nods. “Of course. I should’ve known Adora would reach beyond the bounds of normal assassins.” He walks toward the fireplace, then back. “And what are you both doing here?”
I swallow. “We were told Bron’s generals were holed up in this Keep, directing the war, Your Highness.”
“I see. And you were thinking to . . . ?”
“Destroy it.”
He stops pacing. “Who gave this order?”
“Adora.”
; “I see,” he says again, and this time his face pales. “I assume she didn’t inform you I would be here?”
“She indicated it was only Bron’s generals inside this Keep, sire. We were to destroy it from the ridge.”
“And do you often disobey your authorities?”
“Nym wanted to be sure,” Colin says, and there’s a measure of pride in his tone.
“Defiance is not normally a desired trait,” the king says evenly. “However . . . in this case, I see it is one that clearly benefited me. Although . . . now that you’re here, the question is what to do with you. Which I think will greatly depend upon whether your plans have changed.”
“Of course they have, Your Highness,” I say quickly. “I swear we didn’t know. We would never—but Adora, did she . . . ?”
“If you’re wondering whether Adora knew I was meeting Odion here, she did. As well as my three war generals and the knights who accompanied me. If you’re wondering why Adora betrayed me, you could probably guess better than I.”
A knock on the door makes me jump. The king glances over, indicating we should stay seated. “Come in.”
Rolf draws his sword the moment he sees Colin and me.
“Stay your hand, they’re with me. What is it?”
The knight’s glare remains suspicious. “Your Highness, you asked me to inform you when Bron’s airships were heading into position. They are. As is their army. But seeing as you’ve not yet eaten this day, I had Sir James prepare you a bit of bread and wine. May I beg upon you to take it in your rooms as you consider Bron’s proposal?”
“I’m not hungry, but thank you, Rolf. Please see the food is brought for these two though.”
A hesitation. Then, “Very good, sire.”
With a last wary glance, the knight backs out the door, and King Sedric turns to us. “I’ll have more to speak to you about when this is over, but for now, I have one question.” He looks squarely at Colin, then at me. “I assume Adora’s had her man Eogan, who I’m now aware to be King Odion’s brother, and who—”
“He knew nothing of this, Your Majesty,” Colin interrupts. “I swear it.”
“Who I’d assume to be a traitor,” the king continues warningly, “had I not spent enough time with him in the war room to reserve judgment. Has he been training you in your abilities?”
He hardly waits for us to nod. “From what you have told me, Adora believed your powers great enough to take down this Keep, which suggests they are quite advanced. My question is, are your abilities vast enough that you would be capable of halting this war, should it come to that?”
“My powers will mainly be of use with the ground troops, Your Majesty,” Colin says. “But Nym’s . . . Nym could do it.”
I glance at him and raise a brow.
King Sedric’s attention settles on me. His voice softens. “Then the question goes to Nym. Will you fight for your people?”
I peek at my hands. At my booted feet. At my leg that is thrumming dull pain. “Even if I could, you’re asking an Elemental slave to rescue the people whose laws would see her dead, Your Majesty.”
“I’m aware of the irony.”
I clear my throat.
“Then forgive my forwardness, sire, but while I may deserve to be hanged or enslaved, many others do not. I would fight for Faelen, Your Highness, if you would commit to do the same. Fight for all our people. Otherwise . . . you may not like what you get from me.”
Colin’s gasp is audible, but I don’t really care. It’s a fair challenge, and one I’m quite aware I can’t lose at this moment while it’s just the three of us in here and the static is rumbling across the late afternoon sky.
If the king is shocked at my boldness, he doesn’t show it. He just walks over and picks up the scroll from the desk and situates himself in the chair opposite us, from which he continues his study of me. An elongated minute tramps by. He taps the scroll against his leg, then holds it up. “Do you know what this is?”
“A peace treaty. But you’ve not decided whether to sign it.”
A tired smirk tweaks his features. “I’m still undecided as to whether I can trust King Odion’s word. And whether doing so is in the best interest of our people.”
I nod, keeping my gaze on him.
“On one hand, this treaty will mean the survival of our nation. On the other, it will mean unlimited access for Bron through our kingdom and waterways, and a way for them to make war against Cashlin and Tulla.” He suddenly turns to Colin. “You are from Tulla, are you not?”
“I am, sire.”
The king rubs his day-old scruff that is thick enough to belie his young age. “So you see, it comes down to sacrificing Faelen and our sister kingdoms in the name of saving them, or else fighting a war we cannot win. Either way, Nym, the innocent will suffer. There is little I can do about that. However, seeing as there is something you can do, I’ll ask you to consider your own responsibility while explaining such a bold challenge to your king.”
My misshapen hand tingles.
I scratch my palm. My fingers.
“In truth, Your Highness, I’ve been asking myself if this version of Faelen is even worth saving. If we actually deserve to survive—particularly when our last war treaty was at the sacrifice of our own people.”
Uncomfortable inhale.
Just keep going.
“Your Majesty, if I fight for Faelen, there’s no guarantee of victory. My power is still . . . maturing. But what you choose to sign or not sign with Bron, as well as the laws you allow or revoke, will determine the true heart of Faelen and whether what we value as a people is worth defending. And that is something no one can do but you.”
My stomach is clawing its way up my throat as I watch the king chew his lower lip. But to my relieved surprise, he doesn’t look angry. Just small and weary. A boy with the weight of the world on his crown.
Suddenly I want to reassure him, to tell him it’ll be all right.
But when he gazes up at me, somehow we both know it won’t ever be all right, no matter what he decides.
Another knock taps on the door and Rolf enters along with another knight—this one wearing a Faelen surcoat.
King Sedric stands and beckons us to do likewise. “Behind me, you’ll find a door and stairs that lead to my rooms. You may lie down in the first, for in truth, you both look like death warmed over. When I’m ready to see you again, I will call for you. In the meantime, my knights are alerted to your presence. If you try to leave or complete your mission as Adora laid out, they will be forced to kill you on sight. Although, I choose to believe we have reached an understanding. And, Nym,” he adds quietly, “I trust we’ll both do what needs to be done when the time comes.”
Without waiting for a response, he turns. “James, take them to the apartment next to mine and see that no one leaves or enters.”
Bowing low, Colin and I follow Sir James out. Colin brings up the rear on the stairwell—to ensure I don’t fall, I suspect, as my leg has me limping and grasping for the wall. When we reach the apartments, we’re ushered through the nearest door into a scarcely furnished room. Sir James leaves us, but I hear him settle against the wall outside, and a few seconds later another door closes. The king’s, I assume.
Colin helps me to the bed before moving with an ill expression to the room’s only chair. “Adora lied,” he mutters, a splash of anger blooming on his cheeks. “Question is, why?”
I shake my head. I’d have guessed she intended to hitch her plans to Lord Myles’s, except he was trying to prevent our attack. Standing, I ease my way over to open the window through which I can hear the airships hovering through the incoming storm clouds—the droning engines pounding into my head the reality that none of this makes sense.
“It’s bizarre how much King Odion looks like him,” Colin says after a minute.
I’m saved from commenting by a sudden knock followed by Sir James’s entry with a cold meal. He sets it on the bed, then departs, and Colin and I set upon
it like wolves.
It’s a good twenty minutes after we’ve finished and are trying—and failing—to rest when I first notice the commotion outside. Muted yelling. Metal clashing. Colin and I head to the window, but we can’t see into the courtyard from this angle, so we stand there straining our ears to make sense of what seems to be the beginnings of a fight.
Shivers ripple up my spine. The clouds crackle overhead.
The disturbance continues, growing louder with men running and armor tinning, and then the noise has spread inside—into the stairwell. When the next knock hits our door, Colin is halfway across the room by the time it opens.
Except it’s not Sir James.
“Breck?” Colin stalls. “What’re you doing here? You’re suppose’ to keep hidden and safe!”
“How’d you get in here?” is what I want to know. “And where’s the guard?”
Breck tips up her sightless gaze. “I don’t know, but Adora’s just showed up. Where’s the king?”
Adora has what?
“What do you mean Adora’s here?” Colin says. “She’s a traitor! That’s why she sent us!”
Breck ignores him, demanding again, “Where’s the king?” And this time there’s an annoyance to her tone.
She tugs a chunk of hair behind her ear.
I stare at her blank eyes. “How’d you get inside the Keep? How’d you find us?”
She says nothing. Just turns on her heel and exits the room as fast as she came.
We scramble after her only to hear the door lock as we reach it.
“What in hulls?” Colin shouts. “Breck, what’s going on?”
From beyond the door there’s a yell followed by a choking sound, and Colin is immediately clawing the wood frame. “Breck! Breck!”
“Here, watch out.” I push him back and, tugging a lightning charge through the window, use my hand to slam into the door. It takes three tries before the bolted thing flies open in a rush of smoke, but when we step out, Breck is gone, along with Sir James who was stationed there.
