She gasps, taking a step back from him as she clutches at the lace paneling of her dress over her heart. Her gaze darts around the room, but there’s no one else in here but us and the soldiers, a crowd of unsympathetic faces who would all lay down their lives at the prince’s command.
He steps forward, his eyes devoid of emotion and his voice cold. “If you disobey my orders and risk her life, your own is forfeit. No amount of loyalty you’ve shown me will take priority over the two of them.”
Turning away from her trembling form, he strides toward another exit on the far side of the Grand Hall from me. A cluster of soldiers there follow him without another word being spoken, all of them armed to the teeth.
There must have been another attack.
I wait with the maid for a moment, having my orders from the prince, but as the soldiers at the door finally move to let me leave, Aura lifts her head, her eyes meeting mine with cold loathing flashing through the endless blue depths. I can’t sense any magic bubbling inside her, not like Tyton, but the fury she holds is like a vicious beast as it snaps its teeth at me.
“Whatever magic you've cast against him, whatever evil you are spreading here with my child, the Fates have said Prince Soren will win the war against your kind. It’s only a matter of time before your scheming will be uncovered and he’ll throw you aside.”
The maid bows her head at the woman, as the household servants do for all high-fae royals, before she leads me back out of the Grand Hall to the princess’s rooms. Her feet are quick, the heeled shoes she wears clicking loudly on the marble floors.
The prince’s soldiers' presence throughout the castle is more pronounced, out in the open and fully armed rather than casually milling around, and their gazes follow us the entire way. Men line the hallways and stand at every door with swords and shields at the ready.
I knew that the barracks here were full of soldiers, all of them loyal to their prince, but I'm surprised to see their numbers as they spread out around Yregar in its defense. The walls outside the windows are covered as well, the soldiers there readying themselves for an attack they're sure is coming.
I send one last prayer to the Fates as I speed up, an old habit I can’t seem to break, though they've never been kind to me before.
Let this all be nothing more than a precaution, and keep any harm from coming to the prince. Send Roan home to his son.
CHAPTERTWENTY-EIGHT
Soren
Aura and the three guards with her had ridden through the gates of Yregar as though they were chased by monsters of the Fates all the way from Yris, and they have no idea how lucky they were to arrive here unscathed.
The reports of witches entering the icy plains of the Outlands arrived only minutes after they did, dozens of raving creatures moving on foot without flagging. I’ve often wondered if Kharl has the ability to sustain them through magic alone as they travel for weeks on end without stopping, but there’s no way to be sure, and the knowledge wouldn’t help us anyway. Roan has already moved his father’s soldiers to strengthen their defenses, but there’s something about this move from Kharl that doesn’t sit right with me—a pattern appearing that grows only more ominous as the Fates tug at me.
No good comes from ignoring them.
I dismiss my aunt’s arrival and sound the alarm for my soldiers to move into formation and for those I’ve chosen to ride out with me to be ready to leave imminently. Being forced to split my forces to ensure that Yregar is adequately protected while I ride out to meet Roan and the Outland soldiers isn’t ideal, but that tug is growing more insistent as the minutes tick by, impatience raking at me until my temper ignites.
Aura forced me to meet with her, standing at the base of the stairs to Airlie and Roan’s chambers as she screamed and wailed for her daughter. I was tempted to snap her neck right there and be done with it, only the thought of my uncle gaining the majority vote amongst the Unseelie Court staying my hand. That reason is beginning to wear thin, and as my fate looms, my aunt may soon find herself without its protection.
Defending the witch against my aunt wasn’t a pleasant experience, but the long simmering rage in my gut for my aunt's apathetic and self-serving ways had only stoked higher at her words. She’d sat in the gilded halls of Yris and waited for her grandson to die. Worse still, she’d prepared to use his death to manipulate her daughter further. She’d treated this pregnancy the same as she had Airlie’s first, never once offering help, just whining at her daughter to return home to her and be a pretty little puppet to wield for her own games. She’s never done more than whisper behind the back of her hand, manipulating gossip and fabricating new stories in her efforts. Not a single time has she attempted to assist in the war efforts or even acknowledged we’re fighting one in the first place.
She holds a seat on the Unseelie Court, but she also leads her own household, with several noble high fae under her command and many people over whom she holds responsibility. She may not have a castle of her own, but she has an entire wing of Yris that is hers to rule, just as the others on the Unseelie Court do. She has resources beyond just her vote and her influence, but no matter how dire the war has gotten, she’s never offered her own soldiers or people in our aid.
She has no right to come to Yregar and question her daughter's decisions, and she’s certainly in no position to demand we remove Airlie from a healer’s care, no matter how loath we all are that the healer is a witch.
As I step out of the Grand Hall, Tyton and Tauron both meet me, eyes sharp as they watch the sentries patrolling at the top of the walls. We’re expecting retaliation for the witches’ curse breaking, sure that Kharl will lead an attack on Yregar now that his most deadly defense against my people has been unraveled. Whether the witches have spies other than my uncle and my Fates-cursed mate living amongst the high fae I don’t know for sure, but their newfound fixation on the Outlands is suspicious.
Kharl’s armies haven't entered the icy plains of the Snowsongs’ territory since Roan’s mother died and laid a curse of her own with her dying breath, Seelie magic still strong in her veins and a mother’s love at its most powerful when her son’s life is in danger.
Now he’s in danger again.
I turn to Tyton with a grim look. “Watch over Airlie in her rooms and have the soldiers report to you there. The witch is already tending to Airlie and the baby with Firna, all of them together so nothing can happen without your approval. Aura is not to leave the ground floor. She’s been told it's her death if she does.”
Tyton nods and claps his brother on the shoulder, then leaves to secure the castle. He’s dressed in armor and dripping with weapons, ready should the witches attack Yregar. I’m not worried about leaving him behind; he’s a competent and level-headed leader even with so many innocent lives in his care.
Tauron has his helmet tucked under his arm and a weary look on his face, his expression stark even with the determined set of his mouth.
“Have you slept at all?” I ask, and he shakes his head.
“How can I sleep while the witch runs riot through our castle, unchecked and plotting your demise? I feel as though the moment I shut my eyes, she's going to slit your throat and all hope for our future will be lost with you.”
I huff under my breath as I walk, taking the steps two at a time as he follows me toward the horses. “Have more faith in me than that, Cousin.”
