“My daughter needs me,” Lucien said firmly. “What kind of father would I be if I wasn’t here?”
There were bags under Lucien’s eyes, and his gaze was haunted. He’d truly suffered from the loss of his parents. Without a word, I reached out to hold Lucien. My father needed love and support right now, and he’d always been there for me. Even now, he was willing to do whatever it took and lay it all on the line to protect me. Now that I’d let Kazim and Kalina go, I understood his sacrifice for the first time. It ran deeper than the harshest wound, and I couldn’t describe just how thankful I was that he’d done that for me. Lucien held me like I was his treasure, and I truly felt like I was.
Finlay poked his head into the tent. “Everyone’s waiting for you.”
I withdrew from Lucien. I knew that now was the time to put on a show. I took a deep breath, wiped my face, and threw my head back. Somehow, I managed to throw on a mask of confidence.
The fae world was merely a realm of illusion. I had to convince everyone that I was strong and powerful, even when it felt like I was fading away.
Ethan stood outside the tent, a hand on the hilt of his sword. I think he had it there to prevent his fingers from quivering. His look was gaunt, skin stretched across a skeleton.
Maybe we were all the walking dead.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“I’m fine,” I lied. “How about you?”
“I said goodbye to the twins this morning. I knew this was coming.”
His voice was heavy with sorrow.
I swallowed a lump in my throat. “Ethan? If the prophecy comes true, and I die—”
“Youwon’tdie,onawilke,” he growled.
“But if I do,” I pressed. “Take care of Kalina and Kazim for me, after the war is over. Give them all the love that I never could.”
He nodded briskly. “I will take that vow, little wolf. But I will not have to keep it, for you will survive.”
Oh, Ethan. He just didn’tknow.Not like I did.
“Go back to my tent, Tygrys,” I told him. “Safeguard it until I come back.”
The faekin whizzed off. We were led to the edge of the camp, and trekked up a hill. Below us spanned the entirety of the refugees. In the crowd, I saw many faces that I knew. Wolvens from the pack. They hadn’t trusted us when Ethan and I had been securely on the throne. They’d even tried to kill us. How could I earn the respect of the pack and become their alpha at a time like this, when things had never looked more perilous?
My stomach had hardened into stone. By the gods, there were so many of them. But still not enough to take on Droga’s army and win. How could I ask these fae to willingly march to their demise?
My friends lined the front row, looking fairly anxious. I shared their feelings. I hadn’t been this nervous since the King’s Contest. Ethan came forward first, and used his illusion magic to project his voice over the field.
“People of Malovia, I call to you in our darkest hour,” he began. “Droga has taken over our land, and his bride has stolen everything that makes us fae. Our country is no longer a safe place for our families, our children. I ask that you think of them now, and come to our aid. You all know we need soldiers in this fight. Without a unified force, our country will remain lost to us. My mate and I swear to you that we will fight for your right to live freely in Malovia again, away from Droga’s slavery and doom. We only ask that in return, you stand by our side, using your blades and your magic to revolt against this tyranny, and set things right again.”
Nothing met him but resounding silence and blank stares. Ethan’s words were noble, but the crowd was unimpressed. He’d failed to get a rise out of them.
I stepped forward. You know what? Fuck it. It didn’t matter if these people wanted to help us or not, because Droga was going down one way or another. I didn’t have a speech prepared, and wasn’t sure what I was going to say, but that wasn’t important. I decided that I would speak from the heart as I stood over the refugees.
“My husband speaks the truth, but he’s wrong about one thing. We can never go back to how things were before,” I said. “We’ve lost too much. We’ve suffered and bled and experienced pain that’s too great to put into words. Droga is your master now. His power is immense and unstoppable. With no effort on his part, he has taken away your homes, your livelihoods, your children, and your loved ones. With merely a single glance, Droga can take from you your very lives, and you’ll be powerless to do anything but succumb to death.”
My voice grew stronger with the urgency of my words. “But the one thing that Droga can never take from you is your belief. If you persist in the idea, the hope, that we will find ourselves in a happier world again, then itmustcome true. There will be more sacrifices, but whatever happens from now until that happy ending is irrelevant. The consequences to resisting Droga are merely stepping stones to achieving our dreams of a united and free nation, no matter how painful they might be. Our devastation means nothing, because our cause cannot be stopped, so long as there is but one person left to believe in it.”
I began to pace back and forth along the length of the hill as I went on. “Many of you think I'm weak. You see me as fragile. But even today I am stronger than you could ever imagine, because I have the ability to love to my own end and to my own destruction, and to rebuild every time I am laid to ruin. I cannot move mountains. I cannot give back to you what was stolen, and I cannot restore everything as it once was. But I have the strength to love my people, and to continue fighting regardless of what’s out there. I have the determination to keep enduring no matter what might come. I can’t turn back time… but what I can do is lead you into a brighter future. I for one willnevergive in. I will not allow Droga to rule our home until the end of time. Can you? Will you resist, and refuse to give Droga the one piece of you that he may never take? Will you keep your faith? I ask you now, in your heart of hearts, do you believe and are you with me?”
The crowd was stirring. They wanted to respond, but no one was brave enough to be the first.
Then footsteps crunched against the snow. It was Professor Desmona, the professor who taught blacksmithing classes and swordplay at the university, and one of my favorite teachers. She was wearing her armor with her shoulders thrown back. The massive woman came to the head of the group, then turned to address everyone.
“I have been in many battles. I have lived as a warrior all my life, participating in fights I considered impossible to win,” she began. “This is a battle we cannot win. I am certain that if I fight Droga, I will meet my end.”
My heart dropped, but Desmona raised her voice as she cried out, “But there is no greater honor! The gods will witness our war, and it will be a battle unlike any that faekind has ever seen. It is a fight that will never happen in Malovia again! And when we enter into the halls of the gods, to drink and tell stories of our conquests to our ancestors, we shall be envied by the dead for our impressive deeds! For what other fae do we know of that have dared to challenge gods as mere mortals. Who of our ancestors were brave enough to declare their place in history? Our fear will last but a moment, but our glory will live on for eternity!”
