Galen answered, “Henry believes they are heading for the Fire Shard. Into Fatàn territory. They took the Hale valmares.”
There was a beat of silence before Simone spoke again. “Tobias. You have a duty to protect Vallenna. To protect every House. Your son’s life is not worth more than the thousands at risk.”
Tobias’s mouth thinned. For a long moment, he didn’t speak, just stared at the map spread before them – the marked territories where the Shards had already fallen.
Finally, he said, “If Thorne soldiers go in... I know my son. He’ll fight. They’ll kill him before we can question–”
“The time for talking is over, Thorne!” Merrick yelled, frustrated.
Evelyn placed a hand on Tobias’s shoulder. “I understand he’s your son, Tobias.”
He glanced at her and for a moment, pain flashed on his face. Evelyn continued, “Send enough men after him that he has no choice but to surrender. A whole battalion if you must. But we cannot wait any longer. You know we can’t.”
Tobias looked around the table and Alaric saw the conflict, the battle raging inside him. Every face watching, demanding. The weight of the realm pressing down upon him.
He closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them, the father was gone. Only the Lord of Thorne remained. “I’ll give the order,” he said.
The whole chamber exhaled. Evelyn sat back, looking relieved. She’d been demanding further action for days. And now, she had what she wanted – the full force of Thorne at their disposal.
Alaric’s thoughts turned to Eliyana. How could he tell her that their daughter was now marked as the traitor she’d been sent to capture?
Tobias looked to Alaric, and through their shared gaze, he saw the same terror. In that moment they were not High Council members or heads of House. They were just fathers. Their children were out there, and the Council had now unleashed the storm that might destroy them.
And they were powerless to stop it.
CHAPTER 20
CRIMSON AND EMERALD
True magic sharing is rare, beautiful and powerful. And all the more dangerous because of it.
–Fatàn Scriptures
Morning light filtered through the leafy canopy as Kara knelt by the fire pit, blowing on the embers. When they caught with a crackle, she grabbed a piece of bread from her pack and held it over the flames, watching it turn golden-brown, the smell making her stomach growl.
She glanced across their small camp. Sebastian had abandoned his bedroll sometime in the night – he was now slumped against the tree trunk, arms crossed, head tilted awkwardly to one side. He’d fallen asleep keeping watch. His brow was furrowed – tense, braced – the soldier expecting an attack.
Or maybe he was watching me. Making sure I wouldn’t hurt him again.
The guilt twisted forcefully in her gut, chasing away her earlier hunger. The food was a peace offering. Maybe it would make him forget, for a second, how angry he was with her. Stop him looking at her like she was dangerous.
She bent down next to Sebastian, holding out the warm food, but he didn’t stir. “Hey,” she said gently. “I made you–”
His eyes flew open.
Too fast.
His arm came up sharply – an instinct born from years of combat and too little sleep. Before she could speak, pull back, or do anything at all, he lashed out and smashed into her outstretched arm.
There was an audible crack. Pain exploded through her wrist.
Sharp. Nauseating.
The food tumbled onto the grass. She gasped and stumbled backwards, cradling it to her chest.
Gods, this hurts.
“Kara,” he said hoarsely, the wildness draining from him as fast as it had come – recognition replacing it. He pushed himself up, his gaze focused on her wrist, horrified. “I – dammit.”
