Through our mind connection, Soren warns me of the smoke longer before I can smell it myself and Gideon calls out a command to move the formation around us. He takes the lead as Gage drops back, the soldiers easily shifting until Soren and I are ensconced in the middle. I’m surprised Soren doesn’t protest but when I glance at him, he meets my gaze as he carefully moves Nightspark closer still.
Sending his words directly into my mind, his tone is the same growl,my uncle made it clear that all his plans hinge on you. I'm not worried about them killing you, only that they’ll kidnap you.
He speaks of strategy but my mind easily flashes with the feel of his arms as he desperately pulled me into his chest, nothing political about that moment.I wouldn't allow them to take meany quicker than I would allow them to kill me, nor you, Soren. I’m far more capable than you seem to be giving me credit.
He shoots me another dry look.You risked every high fae soldier between the dungeon and Airlie's chambers to help a princess who lashed out at you at every chance, blaming you for a curse you barely knew the design of. I have no doubt that if my uncle and his guards arrived before us now with an innocent life pressed against a sword, you’d be quick to hand yourself over.
My heart clenches in my chest, his worry echo of one I’ve heard a thousand times over— whispered, murmured, barked, and screamed, every variation of it possible and all of them ignored because that’s the Ravenswyrd way. I’ve decided that’s the truth of why the Fates chose me for this task, knowing that turning this high fae prince’s heart away from the hatred, cruelty, and anger of the Court he was born in would take an indeterminable strength and endless sacrifice.
The Fates tested me against their monsters and though I came out of that war as a shadow of myself, I never did falter from the path, no matter the battle laid out before me.
Prince Gideon begins to slow pace even further down to a slow ambling walk shooting a look over his shoulder at Soren and my Fates-blessed mate gives him a curt nod, clicking his own tongue at Nightspark. Northern Star follows them closely, riding to join Gideon at the front as the soldiers make a path.
Carnage lies before us.
Smoke curls in dark plumes from the snow in the shape of fallen bodies but only ash remains of them. Footsteps churn the ground of dozens of horses yet no bodies of those either, only the signs of blood sprayed out and dozens of dead witches but all that remains are impressions on the snow and the ashes where bodies and blood once lay.
Soren scowls around, his eyes lingering on the burned blood spatters. “Witches killed by their own.”
Gideon frowns around at all before casting a careful look at me. “There are very few who can wield the power to burn the bodies in this way.”
Soren meets his gaze before looking at me as well but I nod to them both easily. “It's uncommon but not unheard of. The blood-rot has been burned away, that should allay your fears; the witch responsible cares for the land.”
There’s a pause but only as Soren looks where I’m pointing before he nods firmly. When Gideon calls commands to get us moving again, we ride alongside him, taking in every inch of the kingdom as the devastation continues before us. Each attack is in clusters, a few dozen cut down and burned away, all in a clear path that moves towards Yregar.
When it suddenly veers off to the north, towards the Lore River and the Ravenswyrd Forest beyond, Gideon's scowling gaze follows the path. "I can send soldiers to follow and ensure the forest is safe.”
Far more dramatic than I need to be but determined to ease their concerns, I reach out a hand to send a pulse of power into the earth, calling in the forest of my heart and finding it safe. “No need; a sacrifice was made and safe passage was granted. The Ravenswyrd is in no danger.”
Gideon accepts this, calling out another command and the formation shifting again but only to flank more along outside and close the gap our departure left. Gage stays further back without complaint, deferring to his brother not just with ease but respect.
There are very few second-born sons I know who wear their position with such confidence, unconcerned with missing out on the mantle of power passed on to a brother instead. I wonderidly if their sisters have the same confidence and easy loyalty to Gideon and his birthright.
The wreckage of the snow stops abruptly leaving behind only perfectly untouched snow as it falls steadily around us, but the tension doesn’t ease from the princes. My own tension is anticipation, knowing what’s to come and desperate to reach the witch. It’s late in the afternoon before I feel the Fates begin to hum beneath my scars. Softly at first, it quickly builds until my heart is threatening to burst with the song of the trees. All of them, the forests of the Southern Lands sing with such rapture that ever the Fates are humbled by it.
Gideon frowns, glancing down to me. “The trees are filled with… joy? They’re ecstatic.”
Soren scowls for a moment, looking around for evidence of what act could send the forest into a frenzy but I already know it well. I feel the magic awakening under my feet with every step forward, the sacrifice of blood and magic, the long journey home that’s finally come to an end.
Then I see her.
A red cloak stark against the endless white blanket of snow, her hood is drawn over her head but she turns as she senses us arriving. The sob I’ve held back for hours tears from my chest at the mere sight of her, throwing my reins to the side and swinging my leg over my saddle before I realize I’m moving. Soren lurches at me as I slide down, avoiding his grasp and ignoring the snarl he lets out at me as I run towards the female. The snow crunches underneath my boots, dangerously slippery but I’m moving too fast to be concerned.
Her own shout of joy rings out, her hood falling as she dashes towards me and a tumble of golden curls falls out, “Æfanya! Ashes mercies, Æfanya!”
Neither of us slow down as we reach each other, our bodies colliding with such force that we’re almost thrown to the groundbut neither of us care. Soren’s vicious cursing speaks volumes on his opinions but she laughs as I sob, tears on her own cheeks as she wipes at mine.
It’s hasn’t yet been a year since I last saw her but it feels like centuries, and the desperation in Cerson Crane’s grip as she clutches back at me says she feels the same way.
“I told Han you needed to do this alone, Æfanya, yet the moment that stupid ship sailed away with you I regretted ever uttering those words. I couldn’t sleep, none of us have— well, not none of us, but the scaly asshole doesn’t count! He was too busy hunting high fae to worry about much else, he’s turned into an even grumpier dick without you. I’m almost certain Seph was on the very edge of marching here herself to drop them all off to you. She told Rylle to come crawling, begging for your forgiveness for whatever slight the Court made against you that would have you leaving them.”
I choke on the laughter bubbling out of me at the long stream coming out of her mouth, never once taking a proper breath. Slipping back into speaking the Seelie common tongue with her and gossiping about our most beloved family is as easy as breathing to me. “She knew it was my fate to return, she gave her blessing just as her husband did.”
Cerson shakes her head at me, grinning wildly, “Listen to me, Æfanya, there’s more important things to be said and I lost myself for a moment. The rumors about that male spoke of terrible things but he’s staring at us both right now like he’s plotting how he’s going to slit my throat and then fuck you in the mess, just to be sure you’re his alone. He’s far more magnificent than any of the whispers implied, look at that scowl he’s giving me; delicious! I clearly have much to teach the gossips of the Unseelie Court about the true qualities of a male to admire.”
I take a deep breath, willing the blush heating my cheeks to ease as I murmur over my shoulder to the scowling prince inquestion. “Soren, please don’t learn to speak the Seelie common tongue, at least not until Cerson can learn some manners.”
She throws her head back and laughs, her dimples cutting deeply into her cheeks. The trees come alive around us with the sound, waking from their winter slumber to marvel at the wondrous sight; an Elmswyrd witch, overcome with joy and kind-spirited ribbing. I only wish my Fates-blessed mate wasn’t staring at us both like he’s going to yank one of Cerson’s arms off for daring to touch me.
