Page 98 of The Crowned Queen

“We were all pretty sure you would work it out,” Caela said, setting off a ripple of muffled giggles. “So who won? You, hopefully, if our beloved king knows what’s good for him.”

“Your loyalty is noted, Caela,” Loren said wryly, and some of the tension that had hung over the camp since last night eased.

Araya smiled, leaning into the curve of Loren’s arm despite the blush that heated her cheeks. “Loren didn’t have all the information,” she said. “And neither do all of you.”

The others fell quiet, all their attention suddenly on her. Araya took a deep breath, wiping her palms against her tunic before clasping them behind her back.

“Some of you know I’ve been having dreams,” she said. “They started in Elvanfal. Dreams where the wild magic here talks to me. Shows me things, sometimes. Last night—” she hesitated, glancing back at Loren. “Last night it showed me something new.”

“Tirnavel wasn’t built where it was by accident,” Loren said, taking up the thread. “Long before the shadows ever chose a king, there was a grove there. The Eldergreen. The same one we honor when we plant groves at our temples. An endless font of aether, gifted to us by the Goddess. Tirnavel was built around it so the royal family could protect it, as she charged us to do.”

He paused, and Araya squeezed his hand, lending her silent support. This part hadn’t been easy for him to hear.

“From Araya’s dream,” he continued, his voice rougher now, “we now believe that my mother upheld that mandate when the Arcanum attacked Tirnavel. She was the one that unleashed the wild magic, driving every human—and every fae—out of this forest so they would never be able to take the power there.”

Finn sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes widening. “And it killed her?”

“I’m not sure if it killed her directly,” Araya said when Loren didn’t answer. Neither one of them had wanted to dig too deeply into what the forest might have meant. “But I do believe her life was the cost paid for that much power.”

“And we’re going there because…?” Naeva raised her eyebrows. “No offense, but it doesn’t sound like the sort of place we should be wandering around aimlessly.”

“Because Jaxon will follow me,” Araya said simply. “The deeper he pushes into the forest, the more men he’ll lose to wild magic. By the time he reaches Tirnavel he won’t have anywhere near the manpower he could bring against us anywhere else. But Loren and I—” she glanced over at her mate, meeting his gaze. “We can finish what Queen Lysandiane started all those years ago.”

“We beat him there,” Loren finished for her, “and there won’t be any Shaws left.”

For a moment no one spoke, only birdsong breaking the silence.

Araya swallowed, suddenly aware of how tightly her fingers had twisted in the fabric of her tunic. “None of you have to come,” she said, the words tumbling out too fast. “This is a dangerous plan. I won’t hold it against anyone if they would rather return to Aetheris.”

“Finn and I are in,” Serafina said immediately. “Where you go, we go.”

“It still sounds like an adventure,” Caela said, leaning back into Kai’s arms. “It would be pretty boring just to go back to Aetheris after all this, wouldn’t it?”

Kai laughed, smiling down at her. Brynn nodded in agreement, and even Naeva shrugged.

“No more Shaws,” she said. “I can drink to that.”

Chapter

Thirty-Seven

Araya slowed, pretending to study one of the old stone markers that rose beside the road as she caught her breath, shifting the heavy pack she’d insisted on taking yesterday. She was regretting it now—Finn had set a grueling pace, and the thick ridges of scar tissue across her back throbbed from the exertion. Even Serafina had outpaced her, not a word of complaint slipping past her lips, despite her worsening limp.

At least the walking had gotten a little easier now that they had picked up the main road. The smooth stones carved a winding path through the trees, its surface strangely clear of the leaves and other debris covering everything else. Only the moss growing between the stones hinted at the passage of time, leaving Araya with the strange impression they might encounter another traveler at any moment.

Magic, Loren had said when she asked. Imbued in the stones centuries ago to protect the road to Tirnavel from the slow erosion of time. Even without anyone to maintain it, the will of the craftsmen had held, bolstered by the aether that coursed through everything here.

They hadn’t talked much other than that. Loren had volunteered for watch last night after a silent meal of hardtack and some berries Brynn had foraged along the way. His bedroll had still been empty when Araya finally gave up on sleep, her own rest broken by strange, half-formed dreams. More than once, she had woken with a gasp—certain Jaxon’s hands were around her throat—only to find herself alone in her bedroll.

“Are you alright?”

Araya sucked in a sharp breath, turning to find Loren just behind her. She hadn’t heard him approach over the quiet rush of the river and the noise of her own thoughts.

“Just catching my breath,” she said quickly.

Loren frowned, his gaze dropping to the straps digging into her shoulders. “Is it too heavy?”

“It’s not any heavier than anyone else’s bag,” Araya said. “I can carry my share.”