by Lucy Roy
“Come,” Byrric said. “The way out is back here.”
They only had time to exchange a quick embrace with Lea before Byrric had a hand on Freya’s and Aerelius’ backs and was leading them toward the back of the room.
The rustle of movement around her, of others gathering up the supplies they’d been given, increased as they all began to follow Byrric toward the back of the cavern. Freya had assumed it was a dead end, a solid rock wall with no means of exit or entry, but when Byrric took her wrist and pulled her to the side, she realized there was an opening hidden behind an overhang.
“Follow this all the way through to the forest floor,” he told them. “It will let you out a good way into the mountains. From there, go west until you hit the Northern Road. Stay to the forest but follow the road until you reach Watoria. I’ve already sent word to the marshals that you’ll be coming. Convene with them, then head to Iston.”
“The marshals?” Aer asked.
“Allies to the crown are everywhere, Your Majesty,” Byrric replied. “Even in the lands furthest from it.” He stopped when the tunnel widened, then stepped to the side. “This is where I leave you.”
“Where will you go?” A lump began to form in Freya’s throat, and she was hit with a sudden urge to throw her arms around him and beg him to stay with her, to lead their group to wherever it was he wanted them to go.
“I’m going to check on the status of the individual realms.” He pushed on a section of wall, and suddenly, the passage was filled with light. “If humans or Jotnar have taken over the governing houses, we need to take them back.”
Freya squinted against the sudden light that filled the tunnel. Shadows still hung over the forest, but the sun was just beginning to touch the tops of the trees. A path, narrow and crumbling, wound down from where they stood, descending deeper into the dense pine.
She wanted to cry, but she wouldn’t. Her heart ached at the thought of leaving her father behind. It was too soon, she thought. Too soon to put this on their shoulders.
Too soon…
Aer’s hand slipped into hers and gave her a reassuring squeeze.
“How will we know if you’ve found anything?” he asked Byrric.
“I’ll come to you soon,” Byrric replied. He looked to Freya, his face hard. “I know this is not how you expected your reign to begin, but there’s nothing we can do to change that now.”
She took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, gathering herself.
No, this was not how her reign was supposed to begin. It was supposed to start with a lovely wedding followed by several months of travel around Lindoroth and a good deal of lovemaking in the interim.
And yet, here they were.
She gave her father a tight smile. “I know. We’ll do all you’ve tasked us with.”
He looked beside them at Ordona. “Ervic will take you to safety. We’ll send word when it’s time to return.”
Head high, the former Queen nodded, her eyes brimming with tears. She looked at Aer, her only son, and opened her arms.
Freya turned away as they said their goodbyes, seeing it was a moment they needed to take together without anyone else interfering.
Byrric’s jaw clenched, and the way he looked at Freya, as though she was a complete stranger standing before him, unnerved her.
He stepped forward and pulled her into his arms, wrapping her in a tight embrace. “Don’t you dare give them the chance to shatter the person you’ve become, Freya,” he whispered fiercely. Shifting back, he gripped her biceps and looked into her eyes, his expression hard. “You’ve grown into one of the strongest people I know and you cannot let this define you or your monarchy. Go, and when you come back, come back with a vengeance. Do you hear me?”
She nodded, shocked at her father’s display of affection.
He’s scared, too, she realized. Big, strong, Byrric Balthana is afraid.
Stepping back, he looked at Aer, whose eyes were red-rimmed and distraught, then her.
“Take care of one another. We’ll see each other soon.” He touched a hand to her cheek, then flared out his wings and took to the air. She watched as he aimed downward, tucking his wings tight as he disappeared into the trees.
Ervic stepped up beside Ordona and touched a hand to her arm. “Your Majesty? We must go.”
Sniffing, Ordona nodded, then gave her son one last hard embrace before straightening her gown and nodding. “Lead on, sir.”
Wordlessly, Ervic gestured toward her neck. Lifting her hair up, she allowed him to fasten on a thin golden chain with a large ruby that settled into the hollow at her throat.
“What—is that a transformation pendant?” Freya sent a frantic look at Aer.
“It’s the only way, Your Majesty,” Ervic said. “It will allow her to shift with me and we’ll be able to travel more quickly.”
“Who created it?” she demanded. Transformation pendants—objects that allowed shifters to transform non-shifters for certain periods of time, were rare and, if not created properly, incredibly dangerous.
“Your mother,” Ordona said quietly. “Not long before she died, she gave it to me as a gift. Sal—” Her words stuck in her throat. “Salazar had one, as well.”
Tears threatened to fall once more as Freya laid eyes on what had likely been the last talisman her mother had made before she was killed.
“It’s alright,” Aer whispered, kissing her temple. “Cina’s charms were flawless, you know that.”
Freya nodded numbly, then looked to Ervic. “That won’t last more than a day before it will need to be replenished, so stop each night. Find a cave, something that will provide you enough cover.” She looked at Ordona. “Cina showed you how to use it?”
Ordona nodded. “Yes, I know the spell.” She placed a hand on Freya’s arm. “Try not to worry, dear. Focus on your part, and Ervic and I will focus on ours.”
With one last long embrace with her son, Ordona turned to Ervic. “I’m ready.”
Wordlessly, the knight lifted Ordona into his arms. There was a flash as Ervic shifted into a giant seahawk, the only sign of Ordona a single red feather at his neck that was the same shade as the ruby she wore. Within seconds, they were gone.
Aer took her hand, then pulled her against his chest, seeming to need the contact just as much as she did. “We’ll get through this, Freya.”
Finally, and for just a few moments, she allowed herself to cry. She let tears slide down her cheeks and onto his shirt, hidden from all those who stood around them.
All she could spare was a few seconds, though, so she pulled back and wiped her eyes of tears, then exchanged a quick look with Aer before turning to face everyone else. All were at attention behind them, all the palace guards, their friends, Florian, Ana, and a handful she hardly knew.
“You’ve all received your orders,” Aer said. “So we won’t add to that burden. Just remember that, although we’ll be traveling different paths in the coming days and weeks, our goal is the same. Travel safe and travel quick, as the fate of Lindoroth now hangs with us.”
Freya slid her hand in his and squeezed. He looked down at her, his face still grief-stricken, but the strength his father’s power had lent him added a sureness to his expression, a confidence in his role.
“We’ve got this,” she whispered to him.
With a nod, he kissed her lightly on the forehead. “Yes, we do.”
Acknowledgments
To Jelly Bean and Maddie-Mads (aka my rest-time editing team).
To my dad for his kick-ass map-making skills.
To the rest of my family for their unwavering support.
To my alphas, betas, and ARC readers. None of you told me what you thought I wanted to hear, and my work is better for it.
To Eric Peterson, my first ever beta-turned-alpha. Whenever I question a plot point or style choice, my first thought is, “What would Eric say?” You never sugar-coated anything, which I can’t thank you for enough.
To Vegas.
&n
bsp; To Denise Worisch for my gorgeous cover—thank you for putting up with my pickiness.
To Jenifer, my amazing editor, for putting up with my inability to write short books.
To the authors I re-read over and over that inspire me to keep going.
Finally, to all of the readers who took a chance on Tessa and have followed along to meet Freya. Writing started as a fun hobby but has become so much more, and I’m thankful for all of you who’ve taken the time to read my work.
About the Author
Lucy lives in southern New Jersey with her husband and two daughters. When she isn’t writing, or momming, she enjoys reading and endless reruns of Buffy.
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