Reed reaches over to take my reins but nudges both of our horses through the fae door without dismounting, his control of the beast beneath him admirable. Several of the soldiers seem to have an affinity with the animals like that, while others aren’t so confident.
The Augur Mountains stand out from the landscape, barren and dormant, a shadow of their once glorious visage.
My hands long to scrub over my face roughly enough to set my skin back onto my bones after the uncomfortable journey through the door, but the soldier is watching me a little too keenly, probably for signs of weakness, so I settle for a deep breath. Prince Soren pauses only long enough to see Tyton emerge from the door safely before he leads us down the path and toward the forest at the base of the mountain.
“We’re like sitting ducks here, just waiting to catch an arrow to the chest to match Prince Roan. We’ll be lucky to make it back alive,” Reed mutters, and Tyton lets out a dry laugh behind us.
“Missing the snow already? I suppose we’ll never convince you to join us at Yregar for the next battle.”
Reed glances at Prince Soren as though questioning Tyton's words. My Fates-cursed mate doesn't look back at their conversation, his eyes constantly surveying the area as he watches for danger.
“I could be convinced, but only once we're sure Fates Mark is secure. There's no telling what fresh hell Kharl will send up there once he knows his latest attempt was unsuccessful, and my oaths are sworn to the Snowsong crest.”
They’re strong words, just as I expected from Reed. He’s not one to play the high-fae games, I'm sure of it. I’ve met hundreds of soldiers just like him, and they’re the type I prefer to spend my time with. No time for dissembling and ready with a brutal response if they find your own actions wanting.
I hope he does stay; his eyes would be useful to watch over Airlie and the baby.
The farther down the mountain we get, the softer the earth beneath our horses’ hooves becomes. The ride becomes smoother as each step becomes more forgiving, the ground supple as we approach the life still thriving within my ancestral home.
The conversation breaks off when Tyton begins to fidget in his seat, growing more uncomfortable the closer we get, and I know the trees are taking hold of his mind.
I envy that he can hear them from this far away.
It's not until we reach the river, the path running alongside it as it cuts through the forest ahead, that I finally hear the song of the Ravenswyrd in my heart. A consuming calm takes over my body, my concerns easing away, because I'm home. This time, I’m not just passing by. I’ll walk amongst the trees once more.
“Why does the witch look like she’s going to burst out in song while Prince Tyton is fighting to not throw up?” Reed murmurs.
Prince Soren turns in his seat, his gaze dismissive as it moves over me and sticks on Tyton. “Just breathe, Cousin, we're only passing through.”
Even as my heart sings wildly with the homecoming, the forest a chorus of joyous welcome, I feel a small stab of pain as we get closer to the place I’ve longed for. Knowing that I’ll finally walk amongst the trees once more only to be forced to leave them again is heartbreaking, the euphoria of the song within me dampening a little, and I have to force my mind away from that thought to focus on the good for now. I don’t want to squander the reunion by thinking only of the goodbye ahead. It’s still hours away, and the journey to my coven’s village and the harvesting of the gardens is still to come. I can mourn my home on the return ride.
Tyton’s eyes, already glowing brighter than before, widen, and his gaze snaps to Prince Soren. He frowns for a moment, likely to absorb the meaning of his cousin’s words into his chaotic mind, before he finally nods. “They know we've brought her. They want the Favored Child. They want her to stay.”
Soren glares at me before turning back to spur his horse on faster. “Tell the trees she's only stopping by. They’ll have to find a differentchildto keep.”
He says it sarcastically, as though he doesn't truly think the trees will listen, but they hear him. They’re fluent in every language, both spoken and silent, and they don’t like such disrespect. There’s a rumble deep within the darkness as earth begins to groan.
Reed startles, his head snapping around as he tries to figure out what creature would make such a noise, and his horse lets out a whinny. Prince Soren is less easy to spook, and even as his beast of a horse paws at the ground, he remains still in his saddle, glaring ahead as he waits for an attack.
Tyton shakes his head, his horse still calm under a sure rider. “They don't like that. You shouldn't fight with them, Soren. They're older than we are.”
He doesn't mean the trees that we can see before us. The Ravenswyrd Forest is older than the First Fae, older than the Augur Mountains, but there’s somethingelsehere. Something that came to live within these trees a long time ago and never left, something old and tired that chose to rest as the witches of my coven cared for it. For centuries unnumbered, as it slumbered, we tended to its every need.
It wants the Favored Children back.
As we reach the edge of the trees, Prince Tyton pulls his horse up short, jerking the reins with an unsteady hand. I've never seen him falter like this, exposed and vulnerable.
I edge Northern Star forward, her hooves hitting the moss, and when she jitters underneath me I stroke her neck, soothing her and assuring her she's safe with me.
I'm not so sure about the others.
Prince Soren turns to me. “How do we get in there without losing our minds?”
A smile flirts at the edge of my mouth and, misreading it, Reed cringes at my side. “We're going to trust the witch with our lives and sanity? Your Highness, please reconsider. This is a terrible idea.”
The prince flicks a dismissive hand at his cousin. “That's why I brought a translator of our own, just in case. Tyton can speak to the trees, any deception by the witch won’t get past him.”
Reed and I both turn to Tyton, his eyes glowing and his lips moving. If he’s forming words, they’re for high-fae ears only, and he doesn't take notice of our interest. He stares unblinking into the darkness ahead, the way the trees cluster together so heavily that the daylight can’t break through.
