“Take her to your tent for the night. I think some time apart is in order,” Ciaran instructed Ornella, and he was completely unapologetic when I turned to gape at him.
Ornella was unenthused at the prospect of sharing her tent with anyone, but she nodded in agreement. A vicious mixture of possessive frustration and confusion swelled within me as I watched her take Nuala out of the tent.
“Just sleep on it,” Ciaran insisted when my feet moved without my permission to go after her. “Sweet Elements, onlyyoucould be presented with the gift of a mate and opt to spit on her instead,” he muttered.
I turned away from the door and strode quickly back to the table where I tried to refocus myself.
“A gift, Ciaran, really? You were there when the naiad told the story of a male she loved who was claimed by adreíochaand taken from her,” I rebuked him.
“I was there. But I now suspect we may remember her tale rather differently,” he informed me.
“Since when do you care about such things?” I asked him defensively. “You barely tolerated Ornella for Sage, but you suddenly want to champion Nuala?”
“I made a mistake with Ornella. One which I am trying not to make with Nuala,” he explained himself calmly.
I sighed and shook my head at him. “I do not wish to speak of it any longer. I never wanted a mate, and that is certainly not changing now!” I declared.
“Be that as it may, youhaveone. So unless you intend to reject her and cause you both untold pain, then it seems you had better get used to it,” he insisted with a shrug.
The tent opened before I could reply, and Iraj walked in with the frost giant from the Winter Court.
“Hügel,” I greeted the male I recognized once he had stopped before me and bowed.
The Jötunn warrior was over eight feet tall with broad shoulders and a wide chest. His skin was a dark blue with what looked like frost patterns on it. His head was bald, but his beard and eyebrows were white and frozen with icicles that were already beginning to melt. He dressed in fur and leather, and the spear he carried nearly brushed the fourteen-foot ceiling in the war yurt.
“Rian,” he acknowledged me in return, his voice deep and grating like a rockslide. “We heard about the collapse of Spring Court,” he told me in Eisreichn, the common tongue of the Winter Court. “It was Balor who did it?”
“Yes, he took his loyal followers by the thousands into the Vale and it destabilized his court,” I answered him in the same language.
“We are still searching for King Ymir. We do not wish to see our people destroyed in the same manner.”
“I am working on a solution that will prevent Riordan from attempting to collapse any more courts on purpose,” I reassured him. “What news do you bring of Kaldthjem? Have you discovered whether Cian O’Duinn actually took anything from the archives?”
“We have determined there were some things taken,” the giant admitted as Ciaran moved to stand at my side with his arms crossed. Hügel inclined his head to my rider before he continued speaking. “It seems that the Summer druid took the Blade of Tausend Sonnen, a Leere stone, the Sjel Rings, a poison blade, one ceremonial dagger for channelling, and three runic stones for shielding.”
There was silence for a moment as Ciaran and I both absorbed the list thoughtfully.
“I understand why he took the sword, but why would he take the other things? It is all magic that he can easily perform for himself,” Ciaran pointed out.
“He took it for someone else,” I guessed, and Ciaran grunted in agreement.
“He also took the oldest texts we had on the creation of the First Altars,” Hügel revealed. “Specifically how to read and use the runic language on them and where they are located in Uile Breithà. Along with a newer text on the descendants of the Aegiani empaths in Atlantis.”
Nuala said something about altars,Ciaran recalled privately through our bond.
She had, although I had been too distracted to process her words fully at the time.
The First Altars were so old they had all but passed into myth and legend. What I knew of them came from my uncle’s stories about their creation by the first kings and queens of the Four Courts. As far as I remembered, they were conduits of power that helped concentrate the Tithriall and even magnify it. They were so powerful they acted like anchors between the worlds. Each altar had been protected by the guardians of each of the fey kings and queens; the Draugr in Autumn, the Jötunn in Winter, the Druids in Summer, and Kelpies in Spring. When the last Summer Queen was killed, the altars were powered down to weaken the fey, and we never regained the unity to repower them again.
“I suspect he will begin with the Summer altar if he really is attempting to awaken these ancient sites. Do we know where it is?” I asked Hügel, who inclined his head. “Then we should both send warriors to guard that location and watch for him. Remember that he is a Realm Walker who can move through the veils with ease so capturing him will be rather difficult.”
“What if the Summer Queen will be reemerging soon? Perhaps he knows where she is!” guessed Ciaran.
“It is possible,” I acknowledged, although she would be of little consequence to me as a new queen with virile magic to revive her court. It was the old kings and queens whose power I sought to renew.
“What happens if he reawakens the altars? Could it be a good thing?” asked Hügel.
“It would make the current monarchs more powerful, which would be good if they were willing to help. As they are not, it will only make my task of replacing them all the more difficult,” I admitted.
