Page 286 of The Edge of Darkness

Waiting for bloodshed.

But the waiting allowed for reflection, a chance to look inward and get right with yourself and the gods.

I told myself I was prepared. My power felt stronger than ever, and I had mastered enough control to hone it properly and potently. But there was also the fear of not knowing what, exactly, would happen. I could be as prepared as ever, but the truth was, things could change in a split second. We could continue to go over our plans, but we had done that dozens of times, and repetition would eventually become a curse if we toiled over it too much. So during our final meeting, one that was attended only by those closest to us, we kept it quick and concise.

I informed Aremis about what the Aether had told me when I crossed through The Veil the second time. How he would need to “cut the tether” within him and sever the personal connection between him and the entity.

None of us pressed the matter further. He would do with the information as he saw fit. Releasing the Aether was not the end goal anyway. It was a strategic move, yes. But the prophecy and defeating Lyceius for the sake of the realms was the top priority.

When the meeting ended, Niall and I retired to our tent. We spent the rest of the evening talking, reminiscing, doing anything and everything we could to keep our minds sharp without overthinking.

We talked of my past sword fights, about bloody noses and bruised knuckles, and the first time I’d come home with a small coin purse of winnings that I’d secured against all odds. Niall shared stories of his younger years as well. He told me of how his father trained him to fight in battle, and how, when he’d first ported himself and Remic, he accidentally slammed Remic’s right wing into a stone wall because he wasn’t familiar with how to shift the extra weight upon landing. I empathized with him on that aspect of porting.

Then, when the topic came back to more recent events, he told me of Fallon’s vision, about traveling to Drastia to create the decoy amulet and then giving it to the queen. No one else had known about it except for Aremis and Laurent, which made passing off the amulet all the more believable; I could testify to that. My anxiety had gone through the roof when the queen had offered it to Skadi.

Now, we sat across from each other on the makeshift bed, and I strummed my fingers in the air, stoking the fire with the fireplace poker using my telekinesis. The firelight flickered over our faces as I finished telling him how I killed Killian.

“So, you stabbed him, twice?” Niall asked.

“The second time made up for the first. Trust me.”

He lifted a curious brow. “How so?”

“I, uh, sort of snapped the handle of the dagger off and left the blade in his chest.”

The corner of his mouth tugged up. “A bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

“Not at all,” I said, letting a small grin surface. “In fact, I used the iron dagger that I acquired from the bedside drawer in your chambers.”

“There were a few iron blades in that drawer, and two of them were gifts from Aremis with jeweled hilts.”

I shook my head. “This blade was plain and scuffed. It looked well-used.”

“Ah. That one.” A smirk spread across his face.

“Was there something special about that one, too?”

“Just that I apprehended it a long time ago . . . from Breck.”

The fire stoking halted as my fingers stopped moving. “What—why?”

“We had a disagreement.” He shrugged. “It was a precautionary move. Unfortunately, for Killian, that particular visit went poorly for his entire personal guard.”

“What did you do? Kill all of them?”

Mischief danced in his eyes. “What do you think?”

My brows shot up. “Okay, I need details.” I leaned closer, abandoning the fireplace poker across the tent.

“Well, we were in the same room that collapsed the other day—that’s where all of my meetings take place when it involves any of the other High Lords or their dignitaries. Tensions were already high when Killian arrived because of his parents’ untimely deaths, and he was suspicious of every other High Lord and their families. His mother and father were not well-liked to begin with, so no one was spared from his accusations and outrage. He had every right to be suspicious of anyone his family had contact with on a regular basis, but when he made a direct threat at me and my Trium, I sort of lost my temper.”

“And . . .”

“And I sent my shadowfire down the throats of every one of his guards that dared to point a weapon at us. The entire room—save for Killian and Breck—turned to ash.”

I pictured it in my mind just as he described: bodies falling to ash, while Killian and Breck stood in horror. “So that was the incident Breck was referring to when he told me he’d seen you turn an entire room of Woodland Court fae to ash without lifting a finger?”

Niall frowned. “He told you that?”