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Although I’m lost in my thoughts and preoccupied with our reunion, it doesn’t escape my notice that the training square is empty. They’ve already started slacking off. Tsk tsk. I haven’t even left yet and leisure has taken hold in the ranks. Not my problem anymore.
Okay, maybe I’ll write to the king when I get to the Spring Court. Warn him of laziness within the ranks. One can never be too vigilant when it comes to one’s army.
As I leave the training grounds and prepare to take the steps down, I stop dead in my tracks.
Legions of males in the black-and-gold uniforms that make up the Summer army stretch all the way to the sea, filling the entire beach as far as my eye can see. Beyond the army are naval ships in a departure formation.
I’ve trained every single one of these soldiers. I’m flooded with gratitude and profoundly touched. I was hoping to leave quietly.
As I walk toward the beach where I see the king and the prince waiting, the soldiers, one by one, draw their swords and press them against their hearts.
“Good luck, Commander,” they whisper.
“Thank you,” I utter past the knot in my throat. I fist my hands and grit my teeth. The king has humbled me with such a farewell. When I arrive at the beach and face King Et’enne, words escape me. Not because I’m saying goodbye to him, but because it’s only then that he orders the males to lift the flag on the naval ship behind him.
It’s a flag of the Spring Court.
“D’Artaron.” The Summer king speaks in the commanding voice he uses in the throne room. The words he will say are final and very much intended as orders.
“I’ve never known a better male than you nor one with more honor. Your integrity inspires kings.” He pauses. “The way you’ve served and led my court will never be forgotten. You will make the finest king, one the Unseelie king can’t match.”
The males shout in agreement.
“In my court, loyalty is rewarded.” He moves aside and gestures toward the naval ships. Next to me, he leans in and says, “Did you really think I would send you off to another court without proper flair and a parting gift?”
I struggle to form words as the horns from the ships blare. Finally, I let out the breath I’ve held and say, “You can’t give me the fleet.”
“I can, D’Artaron.”
“That will leave you weakened.”
“My dear friend, your paranoia over our security and safety has amassed more males than this court will need in three lifetimes. When I asked for volunteers, half the fleet wished to follow you. Heck, if I asked the army, I’m sure I’d lose most of them.” He chuckles. “So I asked no more and took the liberty of reassigning half the fleet to the Spring Court. It is my wedding present.”
“Thank you.” Accepting possession of the fleet means that I’ll have to sail, which takes longer than portal travel, unless… The sigil on my palm heats up, and I allow the bright morning sun to feed it more light.
“You never returned her magic?”
I shake my head.
“You know how power displays turn me on.”
“I do. You’re not ready for this.”
“I was born ready. Show me.”
I inhale deeply and open my mind and body to absorb as much light as I can handle. My entire body glows, and the king, despite knowing he should stand aside, digs his boots into the sand right next to me, letting the burn of the flame engulf him, counting on me not to lose control of the magic, humbling me even more by telling me how much he trusts me and my skills.
When I’ve taken all I can safely manage and my body brims with power, I collect it all into my hands and thrust forward with a shout. The ball of white flame, like a shooting star, ejects from the sigil on my palm and zips between the ships, stopping a safe distance behind them in the middle of the sea. The light expands from one end to the other, forming a solid bright arch that reflects the blue seas.
The males shout at the top of their lungs.
I gesture with my hand. “That’s it. The ships will sail under it and arrive at the Spring Court instantly.”
King Et’enne smiles. “That’s it? You show me astral magic of the well, and you say that’s it?”
I shrug. “What else is there to say when the magic speaks for itself?”
King Et’enne nods, an evil glint in his eye. “Aamako will hate it.”
