I dismount from Nightspark’s back, murmuring reassurances to him as he kicks up a little fuss. Holding his reins in one fist, I move toward Tauron’s saddle and unclasp the witch’s chains. The leather of my gloves creaks as I grasp the length tightly and tug until the witch has no choice but to follow closely behind me.
Fae doors are tricky, especially when moving prisoners through them, because as you cross, there’s a moment of disorientation when you reach the very edge of what your mind can cope with, and if the witch were to work through that feeling faster than I do, she could get loose and flee. All the fae doors in the Southern Lands are connected, and if she breaks away from me and steps through with a different destination in mind, she could slip through my fingers once more. I can’t be sure the iron chains will stop her, I’ve never transported prisoners through like this, but my anger at the dire situation I’ve found myself in has made me reckless.
We usually avoid using the fae door in these situations, but there's a part of me that hopes the journey will break her mind and render her useless so that she’s no longer a risk to me or my kingdom, nothing more than a hollow shell to sit on a throne and meet the demands of the Fates.
A few of these old-magic structures still exist around the kingdom, mostly at high fae castles. There’s even a fae door in the Witch Ward, the area of the Southern Lands that the witches have claimed as their own and the high fae castle there along with it. Yrmar in the northwest was once held by the Mistheart bloodline of the First Fae but is now the seat of power for Kharl Balzog.
Someday, when my fate is fulfilled and I win this war, I’ll take it back.
The surrounding lands are now known as the Witch Ward, the villages within their control purged of lower fae and part-bloods. Each year, the witches push out the boundaries of their territory and claim a little more of the kingdom, like a disease spreading throughout the lands. Shortly after I stopped hearing my mate’s voice in my mind, Prince Venyr of Yrebor abandoned his castle and Lake Hedgelock, which lies south of Yrmar, along with his entire household and the villages that surrounded the area. The moment a siege was imminent, he simply left it behind rather than defending his ancestral home and the land it lies on.
The next castle in the path of the witches’ advance is Yrell, a day's ride from the current edge of the Witch Ward territory, and it’s only a matter of time before Kharl begins his campaign to take it. I suspect he’s building up his armies, playing a patient game as his people multiply over several decades. It’s safe enough for him to wait; he’s stopped the high fae from being able to do the same. If he succeeds in taking Yrell, the witches will hold three of our castles and a highly defensible area of the kingdom, an almost impossible expanse to take back.
There's apprehension in the witch’s eyes as she stares at the fae door, but when I move us all forward, she doesn't hesitate to follow me, walking too close to my side for my liking. When her arm brushes mine, my stomach clenches violently, the Fates pulling me toward her so sharply I have to tear myself away, and I yank the chain. She stumbles but manages to catch herself before she falls to the frozen ground, surprisingly well balanced, like a soldier. She’s had training.
I'll have to burn my cloak.
The fae door taps into the ley lines of magic that run deep within the earth and connect this door to the others spread throughout the kingdom. It once provided a fast way for the princes and princesses of my family to reach the Seer of the Augur Mountains and be given their fate. The Seer fell out of favor after she delivered mine, the high fae choosing instead to visit the Seer at Loche Temple until the witches destroyed it and killed her. The things they did to that Seer were horrifying and proved that witches have no conscience or morals to call their own.
The magic of the fae doors is slowly waning.
Long ago the doors could move entire courts from one end of the world to the other, but now there isn't much more magic than can move our group. It’s something else for which I'm sure the witches are to blame. As I step through the structure, dragging the witch with me, everything goes dark and my mind hazes. My skin feels as though it’s filling up and being crushed at the same time, everything pushing and pushing andpushinguntil I think I'm going mad.
Only when I'm about to lose the last vestiges of my sanity do I finally step out on the other side, pulling Nightspark and the witch along with me. Before my mind has a chance to adjust, I hear the shouts of the guards.
“Witch! It's a witch!” they yell, and I'm forced to stand in front of her, using my body as a shield, as weapons are drawn around us.
As impressed as I am by their swift action, I’m not happy at being forced to protect her.
“She's a prisoner, put down your swords,” I snap, and for a moment I think the soldiers are going to swing at me to get to her, but then they realize who’s speaking and the weapons drop away as their heads bow.
The captain steps forward. “My prince, my most humble apologies—”
I shake my head to cut him off. “No need, you were only following my command. Ride ahead of us and clear the path. She’s going straight to the dungeon, where she won’t be a danger to anyone.”
The guard ducks his head again and moves off to give the order without question, but the others all stare at us squarely.
There's an unnatural sucking noise, and then Tauron steps through the fae door, his brother appearing behind him. The weary look in Tyton’s eyes slowly eases as the deranged magic of the Ravenswyrd Forest finally releases him from its grip.
“Is it safe to have her in the castle?” one of the soldiers finally finds his voice to say, shifting uneasily as he stares at the witch.
I yank the chains again, enjoying the sight of her stumbling. “A few nights down there, and she'll be no use to anyone. We'll figure out what to do with her then.”
The soldiers all look at each other warily before Tauron starts barking orders at them, directing them at his will. I finally glance over to see what the trip through the door has done to this ill-fated mate of mine, but she only stares back at me with those haunting, icy eyes. I turn away before my fury blinds me.
I think those eyes of hers will plague my nightmares until my last breath.
CHAPTERFIVE
Rooke
Yregar Castle is every bit as heartbreakingly beautiful as my father once told me.
The first thing that strikes me is that the Unseelie fae live very differently from the Seelie, all icy perfection instead of the warm indulgence I’d grown accustomed to. The castle before me is carved out of white stone, a huge monolith of architecture and beauty as cold and stunning as the Unseelie fae themselves.
The second is how inhospitable the castle feels with the military presence here. Soldiers march along the tall outer wall in full armor, and watchtowers erupt from the stone at regular intervals, six clearly visible as we approach from the north side of the wall. The inner wall has them as well, a highly defensive design that is being utilized to its full potential—there’s no route of approach to the castle for an enemy to take without immediate detection. While there are many gaps in my knowledge of the Unseelie high fae and the kingdom they rule, I wasn’t expecting the scene before me.
The rumors of the Savage Prince made it clear that the Unseelie Court despises his warmongering ways, a confusing stance to take when Kharl declared war against the whole kingdom, and yet there are hundreds of high fae soldiers here under my Fates-cursed mate’s command, loyal and obedient as any.
