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Fern didn’t even react as a wulver in his wolfman form jogged to Emmett’s side. Emmett greeted the man and immediately turned to Fern, winking in her direction.
“Later,” he mouthed, and Fern bit back a laugh before nodding in confirmation. At least everyone knew she was still constantly brimming with questions.
They filed into a V-formation behind Calum in the street, the last of their joviality draining away. A harsh wind picked up around them, and the fae and wulver roared, hackles rising as they obviously smelled something that Fern couldn’t.
She looked at Calum. She could feel him, even now, the bond between them dancing like a live wire. There was no time to comprehend it, so Fern simply leaned into it. Golden power ebbed and flowed off Calum as he stood tall and stared into the darkness in front of them. Fern couldn’t help herself from thinking that he looked magnificent, like something out of a legend.
I suppose he is, though, isn’t he?
The quiet night air was disrupted by the sudden sound of thundering hooves and drumbeats. Their enemy approached. There was a whooping, maniacal laughter that carried on the winds, followed by a red whirlwind that appeared in front of them.
Mara stepped out, smiling, her lips and teeth stained with blood. “I took care of a few of them for you,” she purred, slipping silently into formation.
The noise got louder and louder until Fern’s heartbeat was keeping in time with the hooves and drums. She sensed Eòin’s magic before she saw it. It didn’t feel warm or electrifying like Calum’s—it was cold and desolate, causing her to shiver almost uncontrollably.
Eòin emerged from the darkness at the end of the street without ceremony. One minute he wasn’t there, the next he was. Tremors shook the earth, and she heard growls and hisses of dissent from the small group around them.
Fern could feel Calum’s rage at the first sight of his enemy in nearly three hundred years, and she knew his thoughts were focused on revenge for his sister.
She studied the Unseelie fae as he rode closer, flanked by five men on either side. As they got closer, Fern noticed that there were a handful of horses without riders.
Oh, no, they have riders... Fern grimaced at the realization—the riders were hanging off the saddle, dead. I guess that explains what Mara got up to.
It was Eòin himself whom Fern forced herself to look at. A surprising amount of her own animosity rose to the surface at the sight of his face, her blood boiling when she thought of all the strife that happened because of his coup attempts. Even sitting in the saddle, Fern could tell that he was as tall as Calum, but not nearly as broad. He wore black armor with a navy cloak around his shoulders while the clasp at his throat and the crown on his brow flashed silver. He looked like the true opposite of Calum in every way. Fern sent up a silent prayer that he wasn’t as skilled too.
Calum held the line, and nobody moved. The horses got closer and closer, not showing a sign of slowing down.
They have to stop, right?! Her breathing grew panicked, and she forced herself to lean on her trust in Calum. They’ll stop. They’ll stop…
Just as Fern was about to scream and push Calum out of the way, Eòin pulled up the reins, and his men followed suit. The horses all screamed and came to a skidding stop directly in front of them, their hooves stomping as they fidgeted back and forth.
Calum didn’t move.
Eòin smiled.
He jumped down from his horse, an identical claymore magically appearing in his hands. Black magic rolled off him when he spoke, ice crystals forming in the air around his head.
“I’ve missed you, bràthair.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Don’t call me brother.” Calum’s lip curled. “You should be rotting in the ground for what you’ve done.”
The sound reverberated through the air, and Fern sworn that she could feel the sharpness to his words. Eòin only smiled wider, taking a step closer to the prince. Calum’s supporters rallied and responded in kind, advancing forward. Fern tightened her grip on the dirk.
“Easy,” Eòin’s voice was nearly melodic, “there’s no need to get feisty.” His eyes were shining in the darkness, making him look more animal than fae.
“You murdered my sister.” Calum’s response echoed in his chest, and the ground trembled in response. “I don’t know what you think you can get away with in Avalon, but murdering women doesn’t go over well in Scotland.”
“Lovely place it is, too.” Eòin all but ignored Calum and looked around them as if he was taking in the sights. “I’m looking forward to getting to know it.” His lip curled.
“You have no business here unless you intend to answer for your crimes.”
Eòin sighed, looking over their small troupe. Fern froze as his beady eyes landed on her. His magic rolled over her skin, making her shiver. Calum moved his body to shield Fern.
“You have no business with her.” The earth shook again as the wind picked up, the rain and storms coming to answer to their prince.
Eòin’s face twisted up into a sneer as he gave Fern a last look before exploding into a rich, deep laughter. “A mate! That makes things much more interesting, don’t you think?”
