Frostbound Throne: Court of Sin Book Two: Song of Winter

by Sage, May

  Vale laughed. “Right. My offer had absolutely nothing to do with the fact we’d look more inconspicuous to any spy, by air or land, while traveling in such company.”

  Devi snickered. “I don’t buy it. You wanted to help them.”

  “Of course I did. But my desire to do so wouldn’t have mattered had the detour not served our cause. We’ve established that I do have a heart hiding somewhere, but do not mistake me for a”—he grimaced before repeating her choice of word—“softie.”

  She laughed. “I hit a sore spot, didn’t I?”

  “You would have me relinquish all pride, vanity, virility, and mystery, cruel female,” he replied, amused.

  “I would have you be yourself rather than playing that dark prince persona of yours for all it’s worth.”

  Still mounted on Midnight, Vale directed his horse to circle hers, and leaned forward until his mouth was but a breath away from hers.

  “I am the dark prince. Don’t ever doubt it.”

  “So, you’re saying you’d turn your back on me and leave me to die if it was convenient? That you’d kill all these innocents to get your way? That the heart you profess to possess is frozen?”

  Amused, he replied, “I fear you misunderstand the term entirely. They don’t call me dark prince because I’m a gutless, worthless coward. They call me so because I will do anything, anything, to protect what’s mine, regardless of the cost.”

  Twenty-Two

  Low Crest Bridge

  They waited for dark. Devi had the time to see that her people would be welcomed on her father’s land, and he, enough time to think. What he recalled of the Low Crest Bridge was dated; things may have changed in hundreds of years. South of the bridge, on the seelie side of the land, there had been a small settlement of fae paid by the Corantian crown to guard the bridge and control who crossed it. As common fae, they were of no consequence. If they couldn’t be bribed, they could be disposed of easily enough. They were but the first point of control. North of the bridge was a small Corantian outpost. A modest manor inhabited by a noble of low rank, it housed two dozen soldiers along with the staff, at most.

  During the War of the Realms, when Corantius had wished to stay out of the conflict, they’d destroyed the bridge. Enemies could still cross the sea —sailing, swimming, or flying—but the twenty-some Corantian soldiers on the other side could pick off intruders one by one with their bows and arrows; hence why Vale had decided to rely on the cover of night. They’d rebuilt the bridge a decade after the war, but there was no telling whether it’d still be standing. Fae could see in the dark, but darkness would help, regardless, if concealment became necessary.

  If nothing had changed with the Corantian outpost, the success of their crossing depended on those twenty-four soldiers on the other side of the bridge. If they were fae plucked at random from the masses, there would be nothing to fear. If they were twenty-four scions, however…

  Vale glanced at Devi, again grateful that fate had delivered her to him, but also cursing the fucking timing.

  Seven hundred and eighteen years ago

  * * *

  “I can’t be your son. I’m… just Vale.”

  The incredibly beautiful creature was looking away from him at her bookshelves. Her long silver-white tresses were braided down her back, with flowers threaded through, and in her billowing backless dress, she didn’t seem to be of the same species as he. Vale couldn’t comprehend what she’d announced to the court. Shea Blackthorn couldn’t be his mother.

  “Oh, but you are. Trust that I’d recognize the fruit of twelve months of aches, followed by eight hours of painful labor.”

  “Kallan—” he said.

  “Made a good substitute, I’ll allow you this. I found the boy south, close to the old Blackthorn lands. His domain was in ruin. His family had perished, but even then, as a child of five, he had a fighting spirit. And so I asked him if he wished to protect his prince. For the last fifteen years, he’s done so faithfully. Kallan may be a son of my heart, but he is not of my flesh. You are, Valerius.”

  Valerius—a name he did not know, given by a mother he’d barely seen in his twenty years.

  “I don’t understand. Why hide me?”

  Then, she turned to him. “Your father was made for me; his soul completes and defines mine. And for all that, we may never be together, because my duty is to this realm, and his to the north. But after one night together, we had you. For a thousand years, I attempted to bear a child and failed—until I met him. I know it’s unlikely I’ll ever be with child again. You were hidden, protected, because you’re my only heir. When a monarch perishes without a child, chaos and civil war follow. I have fought for peace since I was younger than you are now. I do not wish for destruction to be my legacy.”

  At the time, he’d concentrated on so many other aspects that a part of what she’d really said had entirely escaped his notice, but decades after that conversation with Shea, Vale was researching soul mates, out of curiosity, perhaps.

  So many reports mentioned it. From his research, he knew that mortals and immortals alike were destined to one soul, but it was rare that they ever found their mate. Mortals lived too short a life to seek it, perhaps. Immortals rarely recognized it when they saw it. Vale had pitied his mother for having found and lost such a treasure, but he now wondered if he hadn’t secretly desired to find it himself.

  Could it be the reason behind his reluctance to settle with anyone?

  He’d known from the start, from the moment her mind had called to him in a crowded hall, that Devi was different. He’d convinced himself that the irresistible attraction had simply been some machinations of his mother. Now he knew it wasn’t, there was no doubt in his mind that fate had tied Devi’s soul to his; she was the only female who could ever matter to him.

  Indeed, fate was cruel. How was he supposed to let her place herself in the way of harm when she had the potential to be everything?

  The only reason he could was because of who she was—what she was. Devi, his little elfling and potentially the most devastatingly powerful unseelie alive. At twenty-eight, she had more power in her little finger than anyone he knew, and immortals only grew in strength as years went by. He wondered when his posturing would stop working; eventually, she’d realize he wasn’t her superior.

  Vale was her equal.

  “I want you to promise me something,” Vale said. “If I fall, you’ll turn back. Your father and my mother—they’ll need to know what happened so they can prepare for the next attack.”

  I need you to live.

  Of course, she was flippant. She waved her hand dismissively. “Come on, it’s not that bad.”

  Potentially not, but he’d needed to say it anyway.

  “Your word, Devi.”

  She sighed but complied nonetheless, vowing, “If you die, I’ll get out of here to warn our parents. Happy?”

  He wasn’t, but he nodded.

  “But that would majorly suck, so please don’t die.”

  “I’ll try.”

  They dismounted and hid the horses out of the way at the base of a nearby hill. Vale told them to keep out of sight until they were called. It wouldn’t do to have them get hurt if they were ambushed.

  A ravine between the west and east hills of Low Crest led out to the seaside hamlet. Vale and Devi scaled the five-hundred-foot ravine and walked across the top, keeping low to the ground. They could have walked through the gorge to preserve their energy, but then they would have been sitting ducks. It turned out, however, that their efforts were wasted, as there was no one guarding the pass.

  On the other side, Vale and Devi crouched at the edge to observe what they faced.

  The bridge was still intact, and the manor on the north side was occupied. Lights glowed in the windows on each level, and Vale felt energy, movement. From across the bridge, he couldn’t tell whether the enemy was of consequence; if he extended his powers too far, they would feel his intrusion.

  O
n their side of the bridge, he felt and heard nothing.

  Two guards walked along the bridge and another two patrolled the northern coast. Vale sighed. The guard posted on the bridge was too light. The set up clearly felt like a trap.

  “Do you smell that?” Devi whispered, risking no other sound.

  Concerned as he was with what he saw and felt, he had yet to pay attention to what his nostrils told him.

  He took a whiff.

  Orcs. There would be no avoiding them this time, not if they wanted to cross with the horses. They weren’t leaving the dyrmounts behind.

  Vale frowned. How were Corantians directing orcs so well? Corantians were no friends of orcs; they’d hunted their kind and banned them from the Isle. He was missing something fundamental.

  “We’ll need to clear the field before we cross the bridge,” Vale whispered.

  “Or I could freeze them all.”

  He shook his head. “I can’t have you passing out on me. We don’t know how many there are, and we don’t know what sort of Corantians we’re dealing with on the other side. Now isn’t the time to lash out.”

  She nodded. “All right, so what’s the plan?”

  Vale scanned the beach town south of the bridge with his eyes and mind and found nothing. The horde was hiding. Good. It meant they relied on an ambush. They wouldn’t have bothered if they had the strength and numbers on their side.

  “We poke the wasp’s nest.”

  He picked up a stone and threw it as far as he could. A dozen vile creatures shot out of a cave in the rocky hill to the west. Vale lowered his head and watched them closely.

  He counted thirteen orcs. Leading them was a great beast of alabaster skin. It was entirely bald, with a pointy nose and a jutting chin.

  Vale could take care of this lot without breaking a sweat, but he remained still. He doubted that this sorry lot was alone. It was risky, now that the orcs were alerted, but he picked up another stone and threw it to the east.

  Close to two dozen orcs came into view closer to the ravine. The creatures shouted in their vile tongue and pointed in different directions. One argued that the disturbance had come from the sea, and others showed the bridge or the water’s edge. Only one pointed up at the cliff.

  The giant in charge clicked his fingers and gave an order Vale wished he could comprehend. The creatures dispersed in various directions—to the bridge, the beach, and the ravine. Two went up the cliff.

  Vale grasped his sword. “When this starts, we will have one, perhaps two minutes before the Corantians on the bridge alert their people,” he told Devi, speaking as low as he could manage. “Just two minutes to kill all the orcs, using as little energy as possible so we have enough strength for the second wave.”

  “Got it. Kill them all but act like we’re taking a midnight stroll.”

  That was the gist of it.

  Vale gestured at Devi to be quiet and concentrated to mask their presence.

  The foul, chalky brutes lumbered up the hill on their thin, uneven legs. Their torsos were large and muscular, but apparently, orcs weren’t into squats.

  When they got to the top of the hill, close to where Devi and Vale were standing, they spoke in their rudimentary grunts. One sound Vale could identify: they sniffed eagerly as if smelling a nice dinner.

  They’d caught their scent.

  Quick as the wind, Vale ran to stand right behind the first; he placed one hand on its slimy forehead, the other across its shoulders, and snapped its neck. As the second started to scream, he thrust his sword into its chest.

  The attack hadn’t gone as silently as he’d hoped, and the other orcs would soon realize their companions weren’t coming down from the hill.

  Vale stood at the edge of the cliff and saw a line of enemies rushing into formation. One dozen, and another one, and another one after that. He counted a hundred strong.

  “How many arrows do you have?” he asked Devi, not bothering to lower his voice. They knew where they were.

  “Seventy-two.”

  Vale’s gaze went across the water. The manor had started to stir; he could feel it. He unhooked his quiver, which contained as many arrows, from his back and dropped it at Devi’s feet; he then held out his hand to her. Without needing a word, Devi handed him her sword.

  “Save as many arrows as you can. The orcs are cannon fodder.”

  “Sure thing. I’ll let you do your thing and cover your back.”

  She crouched, extending her right leg to the side for better balance, and aimed down at the path leading to the hilltop.

  “Don’t die,” Devi told him.

  “Like you’d let me!”

  He glanced back to see her smile before launching himself at the horde of orcs.

  Vale couldn’t recall ever entering a fight without worrying about protecting his own back, not even with Kallan, but soon, he entirely stopped minding to his own safety, focusing entirely on the offensive. If there was a sword, arrow, or ax headed his way, its barer found a sculpted arrow planted inside their skull before they could follow through with the attack.

  He wasn’t used to fighting with two blades, and his left side was considerably stronger, but against orcs, swordsmanship hardly mattered. Orcs were all brute strength and instincts without any finesse. He slashed at thighs and calves, arms and knees, his blades always finding unprotected flesh.

  He’d killed half the horde when the Corantians crossed the sea, some over the bridge and others by air.

  Fuck.

  He hadn’t been able to tell before—perhaps the water had interfered with his senses —but now he knew. Every single one of them was a scion.

  “Shit! Devi, shoot them! I can take care of myself.”

  He hadn’t used his speed or mind power until now to preserve his energy, but he could tell it would not be enough. Better to pick off as many scions as possible before they were on them.

  His head snapped up to the cliff when he felt a push of energy. Air. Just enough to destabilize the flying scions. As they swayed, at the mercy of Devi’s unnatural wind, she shot arrows straight into their hearts or between their eyes.

  Had they not been scions, all would have perished. There were twenty-six scions, with eleven approaching by air. Only three of them fell, and Vale could tell they’d survive.

  He grimaced. What now? They needed to stay on the high ground for as long as possible, but they also had to push forward and cross the bridge at the first chance.

  Devi took their choices away by leaping down the cliff and landing right behind him. He handed her the sword.

  “I’ve got something, but it’s a terrible idea,” she said, staying behind him and guarding his back as she ruthlessly slashed orcs with her bloodied sword.

  “I’m open to all ideas, terrible ones included.”

  It was easy to adapt to her style, as she was using a textbook Shea method—efficient and unpredictable to those who hadn’t studied it, but second nature to Vale.

  “Great, so, first of all, you have to touch me.”

  He groaned. “Again? You truly have the worst timing.”

  Why did she always suggest touching when it definitely wasn’t about touching?

  “Then open your mind to me like you did when you channeled me. We have to wait until they all get close, but I think I can freeze them all without murdering you if you’re part of me.”

  All things considered, it wasn’t the worst idea, and they were flat out of options.

  “What’s your range?”

  “I don’t know, a mile?”

  Too close. At that distance, the twenty-six scions would have their skin if their plan failed.

  But it wouldn’t fail. He trusted Devi, and he’d seen her use her gifts.

  “All right. Let’s do it.”

  Twenty-Three

  The Traitor

  Devi had never felt more uncertain about anything. The odds against them were too great. What if she hurt Vale?

  You won’t.

&
nbsp; She hadn’t killed him in the forest, before Styx had helped with her control, and she wouldn’t now. She had to believe that.

  When he’d channeled her, she’d been able to reach into his mind, using his power, and he’d said he might have gained some of hers in return. That meant there was a good chance that he’d be fine; elemental mages couldn’t be harmed by the element they mastered.

  For a little while, she put the scions out of her mind and focused on the vermin they had to cut through. Pungent, slimy, and sickly pale, orcs truly were vile. She barely breathed, but their odor still disgusted her. She doubted they had toothbrushes wherever the hell they came from.

  Unfortunately, their insides reeked worse than their outside, so every time they slashed one open, Devi had to fight against the need to retch.

  “Oh, stuff that!” she cursed, before screaming, “Get down!”

  Vale obeyed, and she threw a jet of fire from her left hand. The line of orcs rushing at them panicked. Some jumped down the hill, and others stumbled; the first few were burned to a crisp.

  Devi coughed. Shit. Crispy orcs were not an improvement over lacerated orcs as far as the smell was concerned.

  “Mile-range warning,” Vale said.

  About freaking time. She turned and lifted her hands to Vale’s face. Devi expected him to touch hers in return. Instead, he pulled her close and said, “Don’t kill me,” before kissing her mouth deeply, openly, and with abandon.

  He’d dropped all his defenses, all shields, just like she had when she’d let him channel her. Devi tasted his bright, powerful soul. She could have gotten lost in it, savoring each memory, every part of him. But she was more interested in surviving this, so instead, she concentrated on her primal, fundamental power.

  Elden was a scion—the very first, he’d said. But his father had been a water-wielding enlightened, and like him, Elden controlled currents, seas, and oceans. Loxy had been a Rivers—the fifth River. Devi wasn’t sure how or why, but she understood that power did not weaken with each generation in her family. She was the daughter of two elemental forces, and she’d ended up being twice as strong as either parent. She always controlled, measured, and used little of her strength to ensure she harmed no one by accident. Now, she let it go.