The late afternoon sunlight hits the blade, and a searing beam of blue light shoots from it due to the magic embedded into it. The stars engraved into the Seelie steel make it impossible not to recognize. It was once held by the first of the Briarfrost bloodline, a prince of the First Fae, and passed down through the generations following the same path as the seat on the Unseelie Court. When those of his bloodline rejected his Fates-blessed, the first Goblin King wielded it during the conflict with such devastating accuracy that it was given a new name by the Unseelie Court: Kin Cleaver.
As every guard holds their breath, the Briarfrost prince stares at my idiot cousin with a deceptive calm. “I would break every accord ever written to cleave your head from your shoulders for the look you gave her alone. It’s my respect for the true Celestial king that saves you from that fate… but this is your only warning. The Ravenswyrd Mother is coming with us, atherrequest, because she takes no command from you, nor me, nor even Prince Soren.”
Ayron’s eyes are wide, his own Celestial-blue gaze unblinking on the male, who holds himself as though he were carved out of marble along with the castle walls. A single drop of blood spilled is all it would take to break the accords, and then the regent would face the Goblin King’s armies before his promised legion arrives.
Prince Gideon leans closer, his voice low and controlled with vigor that screams of the fury burning within. “Call your guards to stand down and send for all three of their horses, or the Briarfrost will take this castle and every sniveling high-fae life within it.Now, you miserable cunt—I won’t have the Favored Child waiting on the likes of you.”
He holds his position, forcing Ayron to flick his fingers at the guards to get them moving but, when they do, Prince Gideon sheathes his sword and holds out an arm to Rooke to escort heraway from the high fae. She takes it, smiling at the honorable treatment, and the prince maintains a respectful distance between them as he leads her to his soldiers. His horse follows them without a command and, being the size of Nightspark and covered in black plates of armor, the beast easily shields them both.
Waiting only as long as it takes for Rooke to gain some distance from the guards, I turn on Vyrain. “My sword?—”
He snaps over me. “You can have your freedom, nothing more?—”
My hand cuts him off, squeezing his throat at the same time that my eyes light with my magic, though I keep it from lashing out. “The accords stop King Galen’s sons from spilling blood, but there’s nothing stopping me, especially now that my Fates-blessed mate is under their protection. My sword,now, and each of the blades you took from Prince Gage and me. Our cloaks, horses, and packs. The Fates won’t save you if there’s so much as a scratch on any of the horses, you should know that by now.”
Gage’s eyes widen a fraction as he turns to look at the sneering male whose face is reddening, his eyebrows rising when the silence stretches on. “You took away Rooke’s pack as well? You should pray to the ashes there’s nothing missing from it.”
Vyrain’s face is almost purple by the time Ayron snaps out orders to retrieve our belongings, saving the male from the slow death he’d rather endure than back down. I shove him away to take my weapons back and slide them all into place, buckling my sword onto my belt as I turn on my heel. I have no concerns about exposing my back to these treacherous males; my focus is immovable on Rooke as I cross the distance between us.
I get one quick glance at her startled face as I lunge at her, grabbing her arms and pulling her to my chest with a sort of desperation that even I didn't know was writhing underneath my skin. All the anger and panic I felt at being separated fromher while she walked around this castle I’ve lost so many within threatens to rob me of my hold on my magic.
She stiffens, her training such that she’s alert for the danger that surely spurs my actions on, but when there’s none, she lets out a breath and wraps her arms around my waist, exactly where they should be. She smells wrong, like sickly sweet perfumes and flowery cups of tea, and my mind hazes with the need to get her out of this place so she goes back to smelling like magic and healing herbs, like the healer’s quarters at Yregar have smelled since she took up residence there. Like home.
“Remember this moment clearly, brother, so we can describe it to Vahroand Mahmanin detail. I’m not sure there's better proof of the Fates humbling,” Gage drawls in a dry tone, clearly to his brother, but glaring at him would require easing my grip on Rooke, an impossibility.
“We need to move quickly,” she murmurs into my chest, her face pressed there for a moment longer before she takes a breath and shifts away.
Biting back a snarl at Gage, I allow her to take the careful sidestep, but my hands still clutch her arms to be sure she doesn’t go far. The horses are led through the fae door, a guard cursing viciously under his breath as Nightspark snaps his teeth at him, catching Rooke’s attention, and I use their distraction to give my Fates-blessed mate a better once-over without her dismissing the action or covering an injury for the sake of my temper.
Satisfied she’s unharmed, I shift until I’m shielding her entirely from the high fae. Gage stays at my side, and Gideon before us, staring over our shoulders with eyes of black ice. Rooke leans into me, a tiny shift, but it’s enough of an invitation for me to slide my arm around her waist and tug her into my body.
If they harmed you in any way, I’ll kill them now. The accords won’t break if it’s me spilling blood.
She shifts in my arms to look past me again but stays pressed firmly against my chest.I learned the games of the high fae and how to play them well long ago. Your uncle is watching us closely, but he’s not the only one capable of weaving webs.
Our horses maketheir way through to the outer wall, the path outlined with goblin soldiers who stand immovable, unblinking, and ready with their shields. The streets of the city are empty, but the horrifying magic is still thick in the air, a warning that the empty fae folk are still here, still trapped within the walls to be mindless slaves to the regent. The sound of the horses’ hooves echoes throughout the streets, the only sound to be heard for hours as we all hold our tongues. The farther we ride, the greater this display of power becomes to me.
Hundreds of thousands of goblin soldiers, enough that it’s impossible to keep count with any real accuracy. I couldn’t have imagined the power that has accumulated within the Briarfrost territories, and the precarious line we’ve stood upon for centuries without knowing it becomes chillingly clear to me. Even prior to Kharl Balzog casting the curse over the high fae over the Southern Lands and chipping away at our armies, King Galen has stayed loyal to the Celestial throne, but that was a choice of honor, not capability. Our numbers have not been this great for many,manygenerations.
Whatever legions the regent has been promised by the Northern Lands, I’m not so sure he was prepared for this, either.
With a tremble in her hands, Rooke fares much the same on the ride out of the city as she did on the way, with a sickened downturn to her mouth. The magic here is like a slick oil over my senses, dulling everything and impossible to ignore, and with her connection to the land as strong as it is, I’m sure it’s even worse for my Fates-blessed mate. As we finally reach the outer gates, the sun setting and painting the sky with long streaks of pink and orange, she looks around at the regent’s guards.
They stare back at us, eyes wary, as the black-and-silver sea of Briarfrost crests rides out. Holding their own shields in hand, they can do nothing but watch. The silence holds, none of them making their usual snide comments about my witch mate, or gloating about the majesty of Yris. I’ve never seen my uncles troops so subdued—this encounter with goblins is clearly long overdue.
I nudge Nightspark toward Northern Star until Rooke’s leg brushes mine with every step forward. When she glances at me, my face stays carefully blank, but my Fates-blessed mate has been able to see through me from the moment she set eyes on me. The firm line of my mouth is enough for her to let the wall between our minds down, my words pushing through to her without prompt.
Did you know King Galen had this many soldiers?
Her reply is even, but I can feel how unsettled this city makes her.I heard tales, but it’s certainly impressive in person. Far more so than anything I saw in that wretched castle.
She knows better than to underestimate her enemy, always so measured in her actions, but her words don’t reassure me the way they should. We come to stop before the fae door, Prince Gideon moving to direct his soldiers and send scouts through first. He’s taking no chances with Rooke’s safety, his gaze drifting back to her at intervals as though he’s keeping track of precious cargo.
What’s concerning you, Soren? The magic of the city will soon be behind us, its effects on my nerves with it, and I can share the weight of your troubles. Whatever they are, they’re easier to manage between us.
A hundred concerns lie on my shoulders; most I’d never give her to carry, but others need her consideration.Why hasn't the Goblin King taking Yris before? If he holds this much power, why hasn't he taken the Southern Lands for himself?
Gideon murmurs under his breath to his brother in the goblin tongue, only a few words familiar to me, but it’s clear he’s giving him orders. As another dozen soldiers march through the fae door in single-file formation, Gage moves to take up position directly behind us once more.
