I turn on my heel and walk out of the room, not looking back to check if the witch is following me. I don't need to, her silver gaze presses against my back like a ball of iron as we make our way to the stables. Tauron and three soldiers wait for us there, already in their saddles and ready to ride out.
The stable hands startle at the sight of the witch, their gazes dropping to her wrists, where no lengths of iron chain hang, but I ignore them as I address Ingor, taking Nightspark’s reins as he holds them out to me. “Bring me Northern Star as well—the witch needs a horse.”
I need her to be able to keep up with me, and there are few horses in the stables who can ride alongside Nightspark. Northern Star has a temper to match my mount’s, but if the witch says she can ride, then she’ll have to manage the beast.
Ingor doesn't question me, not even when he flinches at the steely gaze of the witch, and he strides into the stables and barks orders at the stable boys. The horse is saddled and led out in a matter of minutes, my people efficient as always.
The witch doesn't need help as she mounts Northern Star and settles herself in the saddle, her back straight and in perfect posture as she directs the beast. One of her hands strokes the mare’s neck as she settles her, Northern Star snorting a little but keeping calm. She’s unaccustomed to carrying a witch, and becomes flighty at the feel of her magic.
Horses can always feel it.
Nightspark snaps his teeth in her direction as I climb into my own saddle, but with a simple nudge of my knees, we’re off through the village and riding toward the fae door.
CHAPTERTWENTY-FIVE
Rooke
When I first arrived in the Northern Lands, I was terrified of riding a horse.
It wasn’t the animals themselves—I gravitated to them as though pulled by a siren’s call—but the feeling of being at another creature's mercy was terrifying. Pemba laughed at me the whole time; he had climbed into the saddle and taken off at a canter without blinking, and I was furious at the ease he felt while I was a panicked mess. I spent weeks building up the courage to even get on a horse only to fall off the moment the horse bolted from beneath me, spooked by my fear.
Pemba didn’t find that so funny.
Hanede was the one to heal my dislocated shoulder, giving Pemba a very long and harsh talking to, which everyone within the healer’s quarters found most amusing. Mostly because Pemba let him, the two of them as close as brothers within weeks of knowing each other. I was mortified and refused to go back to the stables, insisting that I’d stick to being a healer and maybe learn how to use a bow if absolutely necessary.
Eventually, a high-fae prince taught me to ride in the dead of night, when everyone I knew and loved was sleeping. He was an exiled dragonrider and understood better than anyone the fears I faced.
Stone took one look at me and demanded, “Are you going to let a horse stop you from protecting your brother? Your friends? What are you going to do if the Ureen arrive here and the children of the city are depending on you to get them out? Are you the Ravenswyrd Mother or just a scared little girl from the forest?”
I was riding better than Pemba in less than a week, better than Hanede in a month, and Stone was a very smug instructor until I bested him as well.
Looking around the village of Yregar, the state of the villagers is far more concerning now than it was the day I arrived. Countless bodies in haggard condition litter the streets, children starving with sunken cheeks and filthy clothes, folk of every lower fae race staring at me as we pass, desperation in their eyes.
My mind was so focused on the young prince’s health and Princess Airlie’s safety that I’d forgotten there are countless other children suffering here, all of them without high-fae royal bloodlines to keep them fed and cared for. I have many questions for this Fates-cursed mate of mine, especially as the mounted group keep their heads held high and ignore the fae folk around us as they focus single-mindedly on getting to the fae door.
I wonder if it's only the high fae that Prince Soren cares so much about. Were the stories of the refugees he brought me in to listen to nothing more than a way to throw barbs at me? Does he care for none of these folk?
As we get to the small village square, there's a long line at one of the temples and I see some of the villagers walking away with small packages of bread tucked in their hands, a sign of the high-fae prince’s mercy, even as he ignores them now.
That's a lot of conflicting information, all of it a puzzle I'm not sure I have the energy or focus to unravel right now.
When we get out of the village and near the outer reaches of the castle walls, the horses speed up, galloping as though the Fates themselves command them. My horse, though prickly at first, doesn't falter, keeping up with the giant ebony beast that Prince Soren rides.Thathorse has a temper on it, something to behold, and I’m glad I’m not sitting on top of it.
When we arrive at the fae door, one of the soldiers dismounts and hands the reins to one of the others, then takes Northern Star’s reins from me. He doesn't meet my eyes or say a word, simply watches as Prince Soren steps through the fae door ahead of us. He then leads my horse through as well, ensuring that I don't use this moment to travel somewhere else instead. I’m sure these precautions are all very logical to the high fae, but they’re nothing but foolish to me.
I risked my fate to leave the dungeon and help the princess. They're all now very aware of the magic that lies in my veins—not the true extent of it but the potential—and Prince Soren could choose to delay our union until he’s satisfied I’m not a danger to his people, an impossible task to achieve. The idea of missing the ceremony at the winter solstice and this entire debacle stretching out for another year or more makes my skin crawl, but I did it to get that baby out alive. I broke the curse so no more children would be lost.
Why would I leave him now to an unknown future and in the care of a race who have forgotten so much?
Traveling via the fae door is just as unpleasant this time as the first, and my skin pulls too tight over my bones as we finally step through and into a white landscape. We’re in the depths of a kingdom where winter never truly ends.
I scowl and turn to Prince Soren. “Are we in the Outlands? We need to be where there’slife, notin the middle of a blizzard.”
The prince ignores me, waiting until Prince Tauron and the other three soldiers are settled on their horses with us before he leads us deeper into the snow. My fingers itch with power, desperate to blast him with my magic, but it would only complicate things more.
Only his obvious affection for his cousin and that baby keeps my mouth shut as we take the slow journey through the snow.
With it falling so heavily around me, it takes me a while to make some observations about the area. We're heading downhill, not drastically down a mountain but definitely an incline, and the snowfall slowly lessens around us.
