The city is far larger than Yregar, still simmering with life though hidden away, and as I look out over the thousands of houses nestled between the two walls my gut clenches violently. Only the high fae within the castle will be saved by my magic cast here.
Striding back to the crowd, I call over to Tyton, “I need to see the outer wall as well. I need to ride back out there.”
He glances at the sentries on the inner wall then waves his hand at me, ushering me on. “Move quickly. Prince Soren will begin directing the soldiers and no doubt he’ll place you inside the inner wall. I don’t want to spend the last hours before the witches arrive chasing you around Yrell.”
I’m nodding and swinging into my saddle before he finishes his commands, Reed and Alwyn following suit as we ride out together, passing the thriving hive of the courtyard and riding back through the derelict streets. The surrounding outer wall is at least three times bigger than Yregar’s and impossible to hold a decent shield around without anchors or risking burning myself out too quickly, but that doesn’t mean I can’t reinforce it to hold off the masses if they use the same tactics.
Soldiers line the streets, hundreds of them with barrels of witcheswane, pouring the poison onto the flagstones. My head begins to spin as the vile concoction coats everything around me,my vision beginning to darken as I hold on to my consciousness by a thread. My escorts curse under their breaths, but I keep my focus on the task ahead.
When we finally arrive at the outer gate, I lean forward in my saddle and place my hands on the iron slabs without hesitation, the metal a hot brand decimating the layers of my skin because of my weakened state. The charred scent of my flesh chokes me, and I blink back tears as my magic fights to work despite the nullifying properties of the metal.
Reed seethes at my task, snapping at me, “I'm supposed to be protecting you, Rooke, and I’ll drag you onto the back of my horse and up to the castle if you don’t stop that.”
“The soldiers will have a dozen things to say about that,” Alwyn drawls in reply, but I ignore them both as I finish my work.
Pulling my hands away, I wince at the raw flesh left behind and then nudge Northern Star away from the gate now that I’m satisfied it will hold.
Reed hisses at me, scowling at the injury, but I lift a shoulder in a half-shrug. “At least we know that the protections are adequate, and if the generals come with the intention of fighting, they're going to be held off.”
Alwyn glances between us before he reaches into the pack on his horse to pull out a wad of bandages and his water flask, fussing with them for a moment before he presses the dampened cloth into the damaged flesh of my palms.
The soldier seems hesitant to speak to me but, as a low hiss ekes out of my clenched teeth, he mutters, “Is there a chance the generals will fare better around the witcheswane, or will they all weaken this easily?”
I thank him quietly before I nudge Northern Star with my knees, pushing her back on the path to the castle at a slower pace than our trip down here. Even her steady gait jolts my hands,and the pain whites out my vision for a moment. As I struggle to stay coherent, Reed and Alwyn flank me, their horses nudging Northern Star between them.
Funneling my attention away from my pain and into something productive as a distraction, I answer, “I'm still recovering from the ravages of the earth's power, so I'm more affected by the witcheswane right now, but it's effective on any witch. There's no cure or immunity. There's nothing Kharl can do to lessen the effects or to heal himself if he is shot with an arrow dipped in the poison. It’s the greatest limitation of my kind. No treatment has ever been effective in this land or any other.”
Bile climbs up my throat and cuts off my words, forcing me to slow my breathing. Inhaling through my nose and exhaling through my mouth in a long stream, I repeat the actions again and again until we reach the inner walls.
I climb unsteadily from Northern Star’s back, Reed’s hand firm on my elbow as he catches me, careful not to jolt my damaged hands.
Tyton takes one look at me before cursing viciously under his breath, but I shake my head at him. “The gates are secured and the witcheswane is working. With a limitless supply of that stuff, Kharl and his armies stand no chance.”
A ripple of excitement works its way through the soldiers surrounding us, anticipation for the battle ahead filling them as they hear my words and see the truth of them bleeding out of my flesh.
Tyton huffs at me. “It’s certainly notlimitless,but Prince Soren has always ensured Yrell is well stocked. Kharl would have to lay siege for a turn of the seasons before we’d get close to running low.”
With a glance at my hands, he scowls and snaps, “Get inside the castle and away from it. You've done enough, the rest is forPrince Soren and the soldiers to take care of.” He nods at Reed to follow me.
As I walk up the steps, I see Prince Soren and Prince Mercer arriving back with their soldiers, grim looks on their faces as they begin directing everyone around them. The torches lighting up the courtyard catch against the icy tones of their hair and the frigid winter of their eyes.
I'm not so concerned about this battle, even with the extra forces and the preparations Kharl will have made. Prince Soren and his soldiers are immovable and righteous in their defense of the entire city and not just the high fae at the center.
I’ve seen determination like that fight the monsters of the Fates and win, and I know it’s far more powerful than any magic Kharl wields.
With my palmsburned to a crisp, I'm not much help in the great hall and, if anything, as Kharl’s armies march toward Yrell, my presence is a terrifying thing to the household sheltering there.
Reed shadows my every movement, never letting me out of arms’ reach as we move through the crowds of high fae taking shelter within the castle, and as my footsteps slow he directs me to speak to the Keeper of Yrell, a stern high-fae male who turns to us with dripping derision. I don’t know which bloodline he comes from or whether he’s a noble, but he looks down at me as though I’m one of the stinking masses converging on this city.
When it’s clear I’m not going to drop my gaze or lower my head to him in submission, the keeper snarls at me throughclenched teeth, “Prince Mercer has put aside rooms for you all. I’ll escort you to your lodgings.”
It clearly pains him to be forced to address me, even with so little respect. Every line of his body is trembling with the tension he’s holding within, and the words are uttered so begrudgingly that I don't bother to offer him any thanks in return.
Reed catches my elbow again as we follow the keeper, the grip not supporting my weight but an assurance he’ll catch me if I succumb to the witcheswane. I slow my breathing and take care with my steps to ensure that doesn’t happen. I’ve spent far too much time being carried around by high-fae males since I returned to the Southern Lands.
The journey to my room stretches on but, as we climb up dozens of never-ending staircases and get farther away from the poison, the clearer my head becomes. Though I’m grateful for that, my focus then shifts to the pain in my hands, and it’s difficult to ignore the throbbing.
When we reach the top of the castle, Reed growls under his breath but waits until the keeper sees us into the guest wing and scurries away before he turns to me with tightly restrained fury. “This is about as disrespectful as they can possibly be while still satisfying their requirements as a host. Everything he said to Prince Soren about your wedding was a lie—the male is a blood-guzzling harpy intent on draining everyone else before spilling a drop of his own.”
