The song of trees within the Blood Valley is an enthralling call to arms that thrums deep in my heart, basking in the joy of the most noble task ahead. It welcomed me so fervently into its embrace and I can’t help but wonder if the Briarfrost princes can hear it, because surely if they heard the noble and reasonable nature of their demands the goblin princes would change their minds.
The air grows heavy around us as the trees writhe with joy, exulting in the return of bloodwitches and it's clear that the time for us to hear one another out, to find common ground, is over. Soren’s gaze snaps to mine as he gestures for me to return to his side now he’s made his sacrifices.
The trees of the Blood Valley like the Celestial heir but it’s no wonder.
Foryour family’s blood spilled, we'll let the forest take its fill.
As his words stay fixed firmly in my mind, I wonder again where high fae power comes from. What is its source, its origins,where did the high fae come from, who created such cold beauty as though desperate to destroy me completely? How can he cast with such ease when it took medecadesto learn the same tasks?
The ribbon bound around my wrist presses firmly against my skin, a symbol of the Fates-blessed union we entered, I can’t help but wonder how Soren can know these oaths and make these declarations without second thought?
Watching my path, my Fates-blessed husband waits until I have Northern Star standing alongside Nightspark before he gives his command. “The fae folk will be escorted back to the safety of the goblin lands.”
Gideon gives him a sharp nod in return. “Rhosh will lead us back to where they've taken shelter. It would be the Briarfrost’s honor to host you all at Aysgarth.”
“There are a few different options I can use around Banshee’s Call to see us safely out of harm's way. Once we have the fae folk in our protections, we can make the decision of which ley line to access,” Cerson says, her tone still icy cold.
Reed is still shooting us both glances when he thinks we won't notice but at the abrupt change in Cerson’s voice, his head jerks up. He regards her for a moment, though there's nothing to see, before his gaze drops back down to the sword at my hip. His interest in the blade is both plain to see and theexactreason I’d left the blade behind when I returned here.
But as my hand drops to rest on the grip unbidden, I have to admit it does comfort me to hold it again. It’s the exact reason Cerson brought it to me, she knows well that any sharp sword could kill the raving armies and the Betrayer who leads them, but no other sword reminds me quite so much of my blood.
Rhosh takes the lead with Gideon riding close by her side, and we ride beneath the shield, forced to follow its path. The bright, endless white of the snow is still all we can see of outside, the ground slick here where the air warms and the ice is melting.
The power hangs low overhead until we reach the base of the mountain, and the path begins to widen as it carves its way through the valley. Though heavy, the magic doesn’t feel oppressive to me. Without the steep decline to manage and careful not to disturb the magic, I trace the magic back to its original source. My own affinity with shields makes the task a simple one for me. When you’ve spent two hundred years learning how to design, manipulate, and shatter them with such precision it’s second nature to me now.
The shield leads through to the other end of the valley, where a Brindlewyrd witch waits respectfully at the boundary of the forest.
Clicking my tongue, I push Northern Star forward to ride at Rhosh's side. “Were the fae folk and their protection left within the shield? Or did you find yourself under its coverage after you found them a secure position?”
Rhosh startles at the sound of my voice, recovering well and smoothing a hand down her own fiery horse’s neck to soothe the reaction to her own frazzled state. “None of the fae folk could be convinced to travel further into the Blood Valley. There are abandoned hearts just inside the borders of the forest, they're being guarded there.”
She can barely look in my direction, her fear confusing to me, but I give her a curt nod and drop back to Soren with pursed lips, trying to keep the sharp retort from spilling out and risking the lives of those innocent villagers by inciting conflict. From all that I’ve heard of this female, I assumed we would be fast friends just as I was with the rest of the Briarfrost but I've long since learned not to entertain fruitless endeavors.
Unless, of course, it's by Fates command.
How has that caught your ire, croí? The expression you wear makes me feel vicious and without mercy.
I glance over at him with a slow smile, the type I know he covets.Ignorance that is wielded like a weapon always catches my ire, Donn. The Blood Valley offers those fae protection and yet they cower as far from the heart as they can manage. It's disrespectful to the trees, abhorrent after all they’ve done for us—for all of us.
A lump forms in my throat, forcing me to swallow around it rather than choke on the mass. Connected the way we are, Soren feels it all with me and his own mouth sets into a firm line. Someday all the kingdom will respect the forests and the trees, croí. I will not rest until that is the legacy of our reign. I swear to you, our bloodline will never forget the trees.
The lump only grows larger, definitely not the time nor place to think of such things, but maybe while hunting one of the witches responsible for the murder of my family is truly the only good time to think about it.
No one will know the truth of my tears.
Though I desperately crave to see the forest as we journey through, when the heartache brewing within me threatens to consume me I force my eyes to slip shut, the song strong in my heart as I take in the strength of the Valley.
“You know, Kharl Balzog isn’t the first male blinded by power to venture into the Southern Lands and attempt to claim the throne as his own.”
I tilt my head in Cerson’s direction, acknowledging her, but I know the story well and this lesson isn't for me.
She continues without any input, apathetic to their opinions right now. “The first brought along his armies, hundreds of thousands of fae marched from beyond Elfenden, with creatures we’d never seen before. The First Fae hadn't finished building the first of their castles yet, they barely had a kingdom to say they ruled over it, but they fought these fae off to keep the land as their own…. But then another fae came with his armies, andthen another, and soon the First Fae were overrun by those who wished to take what they had claimed, and swore to take care of… do you know what happened then?”
I open my eyes to find they all watch Cerson with keen eyes, even Tauron, and she smirks at him, not the sage teachings of the Ravenswyrd Mother but instead the apt lessons of the Elmswyrd Mother with far more sharp claws beneath her sultry looks than anyone ever realizes.
“The First Fae approached the Ravenswyrd Witches in their forest when they first arrived to the Southern Lands, they made agreements with them to honor the earth and the trees. The high fae had always upheld their duties, but now the safety of the kingdom was in question so they went to the Favored Children for their council.”
A smile dances at the corners of my lips, chasing away the desolation that ate away at me. Up ahead on the side of the mountain, a sheer cliff of rock where nothing should survive, we find fae flowers growing. Though most are the white and blue blooms that once grew all over the kingdom, there are blood-red fae flowers mixed in amongst them. At the center of each lies a black seed pod, with a hundred different medicinal uses, but these belong to the forest and no matter the look of wonder in our eyes as we passed them by, they are not ours to touch.
