Rooke answers without turning from her work. "Once I have the bleeding under control we can move him to the healer's quarters and Thea can observe then. There are far too many high fae here, and in the rest of the castle… let alone whoever was responsible for this.”
"Rest assured, Mother Ravenswyrd, the traitors have already been dealt with."
My gaze drops back down to the injured goblin soldier who spoke only to find his eyes solemn as he regards me, his jaw tightening with a pained grimace. A hulking mountain of a male, he’s unusually tall for a goblin with a shoulder span to match. No tusks protrude from his mouth but a tail lies on the pallet by his leg, limp and lifeless. Black hair cropped close to his scalp, his thick eyebrows are the same dark hue where they furrow over his charcoal-tinted eyes.
Gage's eyes are the same color but it’s the only similarity they bear, no other clear familial resemblance that my admittedly untrained eye can discern. Scars run up and down his arms,bared to the elbow thanks to the rolled up sleeves of his tunic, and though layers of his uniform have been removed, emblems lie proudly over his chest where they're stitched into his tunic. There's no Briarfrost crest, clearly the male isn't a member of the royal family, but there's a large crest centered that stands out amongst the rest that I haven't seen on the soldiers here at Yregar.
Whatever his bloodline is, it’s an important one within the goblin lands.
With both hands clasped firmly over a wound on his own stomach, his green-hued skin is slowly taking on a gray pallor as he waits for a healer to become available though it only takes another brief glance at Kytan to guess it may still be some time. With very little knowledge of goblins, it's impossible for me to judge how dire his condition is, but Gideon doesn’t look too concerned for him— for now.
Inclining my head at the soldier respectfully, he freezes at the very basic act of respect and I have to tamp down my temper as my frustration builds. When his eyes flare wide in shock, glancing over at Gideon.
The Briarfrost heir steps forward with a grim expression of his own as he looks over the soldier. "This is Varkesh Khalsor; a member of my wife’s family and, by Fates command, my own. He serves as the Second in her battalion, a male I trust with her life which, as I’m sure you’re aware, is the highest praise I could give a soldier. His head for battle is unmatched, as is his skill with a sword.”
My brow furrows as he lists the male’s connections and merits as though he’s advocating for the male let he lose his life, covering the soldier with his own birthright as protection. Varkesh can’t be responsible for Kytan’s injuries, my household wouldn’t be regarding him with such concern if there were any suspicion of his involvement, but there’s no denying thisintroduction is far more thorough than any other Gideon has offered me.
When the tension in the room only heightens, Gage glances over to me with a stern look. “Rhosh sent ‘Kesh for aid. Her battalion was escorting fleeing fae from the Mistwyrd Forest through to the Briarfrost territories but they were overrun by raving soldiers at the edges of Banshee's Call, forcing them to take refuge there. The witches won’t cross the tree line, but we already heard news of the regent’s guards advancing. The Unseelie Court has declared the Briarfrost in breach of the accords for coming to Yris and with the legion arriving to the port, they’re moving to the border to lay siege against the goblin armies. Even if Rhosh can hold off Balzog’s stinking soldiers, ashes only know how many guards the regent will send… or the making of the legion.”
Ice floods my veins as a Rooke's own alarm bleeds through our mind connection, though when I glance over she's still focused on Kytan's dire injuries. His pallor is far more familiar, his coloring almost identical to my own as are most Unseelie high fae, and it's becoming evident that he'll need more than just sleep to prise him from the gates of Elysium.
Surprisingly, it's Roan who fills in the rest of the somber details. "The sentries saw Varkesh arriving to the outer wall, injured and riding alone thanks to the raving hoard surrounding the battalion. Instead of informing their commander or sounding the alarm, a dozen of the new recruits from Yrell chose to take matters into their own hands. There were two goblin soldiers on duty in the same section but the gutless traitors used the distraction to overcome them. Both males were murdered and now await the funeral pyres."
He pauses for a moment as I curse viciously under my breath at the senseless waste of life, not just desperately needed soldiersbut of Fae folk willing to risk themselves for the rest of the kingdom.
When my furious muttering finally runs its' course, he continues as his gaze shifting back to Kytan, "They used the outer stairs to avoid detection, going down to meet the injured male with swords in hand. Kytan heard the clash of steel and sent soldiers back to the castle to alert us of what was going on while he went down himself to stop the traitors. The accords still hold, Soren; Kytan may still pay the price, but he stopped the miserable cunts from spilling even a drop of goblin blood."
Varkesh grunts as he shifts, scowling at Gideon when he attempts to take a look at the gash still open beneath the soldier’s fingers. "I would've finished them off myself—wound be damned—if it weren't for those dragon-dung accords! Your commander cut them down with ease, far more skilled than they could ever hope to be. It was only their numbers that forced him to take the blow for me, as resolute in his protections as he was valiant. I owe the male a life-debt."
I'm shaking my head before he finishes the sentence. "Any debts will be paid by me; to ride to Yregar for aid only to find a sharpened blade waiting for you here is a shameful act.”
Eyes flaring wide again, his chin lifts and despite his worsening condition, the pride in his expression is unquestionable. It deepens as Gideon clasps a hand over his heart and bows deeply to me, the approval in his eyes only dampened by the rigid line of his shoulders as tension coils within him.
I glance over at Cerson. “Are you able to transport the battalion? If so… are you willing to do so?”
Her eyebrows raise and when the high fae mutter under their breaths at my deference a wry smile tugs at the corner of her lips. “If they were trapped anywhere but Banshee’s Call I could, but I’d still be delighted to offer you all my aid.”
Scowling at her riddles, my gaze drops back to Rooke reflexively, and she answers me plainly as she works. "There are no ley lines under that forest, but she could get us close, which afford me more time. Gideon and Gage did well to save Kytan’s life but it'll be a few more hours before he's stable enough for me to ride out. The wound is deep, and he's lost a lot of blood."
Turning back to the goblin princes, I find Roan staring at Gideon with a guarded expression before he speaks in a careful tone, each word slowly prised out of his lips, "To ride out now would leave Yregar at great risk, especially if the regent knows Soren and Rooke have wed. What will you do if Prince Soren says no?"
The Briarfrost heir holds Roan’s gaze but his expression isn't conflicted, no anguish digging into his face at such a prospect. Turning slowly to regard each fae in attendance, he only answers when his gaze finally meets mine, his words clear and firm. "Gage and I were ordered by our father to stay at Yregar, to offer our support to Prince Soren and the Favored Child until the throne is secured and Kharl Balzog is deposed. If the true Celestial heir chooses to stay at Yregar and prioritize the fae within the walls here, I won't question his command. The Briarfrost soldiers will obey his orders and stay."
The weight of his words settles over me, but Gideon turns back to Roan as he continues. "I'll ride to Banshee's Call now and face the raving armies alone to get to my wife. Then I'll fight the high fae battalions at her side when the regent's guards arrive. If we somehow triumph, I'll submit myself to my father's mercies and accept the consequences for my treason without question. Ashes mercies, I'll face the Fates themselves if I must; I will not abandon my wife. My oaths are to Rhosh first; my throne, my bloodlines, and my own existence will always come second to her."
At the resoundingly stunned silence that follows his brother's blunt declaration, Gage smirks and lifts a shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. "I told Prince Soren he was stupid obsessed with her. This isn't some revelation, at least not to me nor any other goblin. He declared the same loyalties proudly in his oaths at the Fate's Temple on his wedding day, with no concerns for how it might be received nor any apologies for the pandemonium he caused."
He turns to me, his tone dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Vahro spent almost a decade enduring the whining concerns of the rest of the royals at Aysgarth, but he's never faltered in his decision that Gideon has always been, and will always be, the true Briarfrost heir. Then Rhosh set a banshee off amongst the sleeping babes once and for all by refusing to apprentice with Mahman in the healer's quarters and took up a sword instead. She worked her way up the ranks, all without ever accepting the shortcuts that her title could give her, and when she was named a commander through her own hard work the entire fucking kingdom finally figured out that Gideon's sappy, obsessive, love-sick state isn't a threat to the throne because his wife is a ruthless cut-throat who's unwaveringly loyal to the Briarfrost throne and all fae under my father's rule. Vahro wouldn't even call Gideon's actions treason; he'd kill anyone who dared."
Gideon turns back to me, no hesitance or remorse to be found in his expression, and my own reply is easy. “I’d no sooner leave your wife such a fate than I would my own; assemble your soldiers. Time may not be on our side but—ashes mercies—I have to believe the Fates are.”
CHAPTER THIRTY SIX
Rooke
When Cerson lets slip that the closest ley line she can transport us to lies in the Mistwyrd Forest right at the border of the Blood Valley, I'm expecting the uproar from the Briarfrost princes. Soren's staunch and steadfast defense is far more surprising than it probably should be by now. Unable to look up as I stitched the last of Kytan's flesh back together, I had listened while Soren made his expectations clear.
"We'll still have half a day of riding ahead of us and half a dozen villages along the way. We don't have to enter the Blood Valley to make it to Banshee's Call, we can skirt around the edge of it."
