I throw myself at the door when I reach it, forcing it open. It’s ice cold inside. No fire. Barely an ember spitting from the coals.
“Father?”
I hurry into the house, trying to catch my bearings.
Rebels have yet to make it this far, but everything inside the house is turned upside down. Cabinets are open and rifled through. One hinge is broken, so the door hangs at an angle.
Commotion starts down the street, so I hurry to close the door behind me. But I’m too late. A rebel yells, giving away my location as I secure the latch.
“Elorie.” Father bolts out of his room, and relief races through me at the sight of his face.
“You’re here.” I fling myself into his arms, and he wraps me in a hug. “We have to go; they saw me. They’re coming.”
Father pulls back, grabbing my arms. “I know. I need you to listen.”
“But—” I shake my head. “They’re coming. We need to leave.”
“Listen to me, Elorie.” His grip on my arms tightens.
Determination blazes in his eyes, which are much darker than mine, a gray that edges on steel in certain lights. Mine are often so pale they’re silver.
Rebels approach; their voices get louder. Our thin windows and single-panel wooden door do little to block out sound, much less intruders. But Father doesn’t pull away. He doesn’t so much as flinch as he holds me in place.
“There are things I never got the chance to tell you, and I’m sorry for that. You have to know it was safer this way.” Father lifts a hand, brushing a lock of hair from my face, pausing when his fingers thread with the winter blue at the ends. “I wish I could have given you a better life, but you, my daughter, are strong. You are resilient. You are ready.”
“Don’t talk like you’re saying goodbye.” A tear slips down my cheek.
“Trust only Callum. He will help you. He has the answers you’re going to be searching for.”
“What answers?” I shake my head. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”
“Only Callum, Elorie. No matter who else crosses your path, he is the only one you can trust. Promise me.”
“I promise.”
I already trust Callum. That was never in question, so I don’t understand why Father feels the need to reinforce it.
He pulls me in for a hug, whispering in my ear, “You are stronger than all the stars, my daughter. Don’t ever forget that. Now out the back window. I have a bag ready for you in the room. Go.”
In a swift movement, Father spins us so he’s by the door, standing between me and the rebels outside. It’s then that I notice the blades strapped to either side of his hip, ready for battle. Father moves me back a step, and the heartbreak in his eyes cuts my heart in half.
“No—” But the word is barely out before he rushes out the door and into the rebels’ clutches on the other side.
He shuts the door behind him, and I know he wants me to run so he can take them on alone. He’s a protector at heart. It’s one of many reasons he served as a prison guard for so long. But one human, even well trained, has little chance against three Fae, with or without magic.
Father can’t beat them on his strongest day. And battling sickness, barely able to stand, he has no chance.
At least, not alone.
As he said, I am strong. I was cut from cold winters. Raised in this frozen forest with unforgiving wind. Sharpened through the seasons. Suffering with this dying island.
He will not die alone.
“Why do I sense you’re about to get yourself in trouble?”A familiar sarcastic whisper hangs in my ear, and it is somehow comforting.
“They’re the ones who brought trouble to us. Maybe they shouldn’t have.”
“Says the human.”
