Page 91

The king has been demanding Oberon’s presence more and more. Each summons drags him deeper, and though he wears a tough face, I can see the weight of it pressing down on him. The past still haunts him, I know it, even if he never speaks of it. His mask is nearly flawless, but not to me.

At least, I haven’t heard any fresh rumors of him razing villages or tormenting cities, a small mercy. But that doesn’t mean he tells me everything. When he is away, I never know what he is forced to do, what blood might stain his hands by the time he returns. And when he does return, he is different. Some days, he is himself, teasing, steady, familiar. Other days, he is distant, his mind miles away, even when he stands right in front of me.

Oberon has pulled me back from my darkest hours, stood by me when I wasn’t sure I could stand on my own. I want to be the same for him, but I don’t know how. He rarely lets me in, and when he does, it is only in fragments, half-truths, and exhausted silences.

I bury myself in training with Zander and Ash when he is gone. The distraction is needed. They push me to my limits, never letting me hold back, and I am better for it. My body aches from the bruises, but my movements have become sharper, my reflexes quicker.

Most of our training still happens at the cabin, even now that I have better control. I don’t mind the isolation. It is a reprieve from the stronghold’s constant noise.

I don’t have to step inside, don’t have to let old ghosts linger in the back of my mind. It is just a place now. Nothing more.

Chapter thirty-seven

Goodbye

Two weeks pass before Oberon returns, the longest he has been gone. I feel his presence the moment he steps through the shadows, a shift in the air that sends my pulse racing.

I don’t know exactly where he is, but I know, without question, that he is here.

I don’t hesitate. I move through the stronghold with purpose, searching for him, needing to see him with my own eyes.

When I finally find him in the meeting hall, his expression is unreadable, his posture rigid. Zander and Ash are already there, maybe drawn to his return just as I am. But the others, the usual gathering of Fae who meet for debriefings, are nowhere in sight.

Oberon doesn’t look at me. I can see the exhaustion in his face, the weight of whatever news he carries pressing heavily on him. I step inside, closing the door behind me, falling into the small circle that has formed.

His voice is steady, but there is a tightness to it as he speaks. “The army is on the move. They’re pushing through the mountain clan’s territory, getting closer by the day.”

Zander’s jaw tenses. “Do they know we’re here?”

“No,” Oberon says, shaking his head. “And as long as the wards hold, they never will.”

Ash curses under his breath. “Fuckers. We need to slow them down.”

Oberon arches a brow. “That’s why I’m here. They’ve established a new supply route. If we cut it off, we cripple their ability to get weapons and rations. We keep them weak before they ever reach us.”

Ash crosses his arms. “Will that really stop them?”

A heavy silence settles over the room. We all know time is the one thing we desperately need, the one thing we never have enough of.

“No, it won’t,” Oberon says, his voice firm. “But it will slow them down. Buy us some time.”

Zander’s brows furrow. “Will you be helping with this mission?”

Oberon’s gaze darkens, and he shakes his head. “No. My father is more paranoid than ever. I don’t know how much longer I can keep him at bay before he completely unravels.”

Ash’s confusion is clear. “Then what?”

Oberon’s eyes narrow. “We know there’s a traitor within the rebellion, someone feeding him information.”

Zander’s face goes blank, the weight of the revelation settling in.

“We don’t know who it is,” Oberon continues, his voice tight with frustration, “and I haven’t found any solid leads. What we do know is that they haven’t managed to get any concrete information about this place or the true size of the rebellion. But I can’t be sure how deep this goes.”

Ash leans forward, a sharp edge in his voice. “It could be worse, then, right?”

Oberon exhales sharply. “I don’t know. If he believes the rebellion is still growing, and he can’t stop it, he will start killing anyone he deems a traitor, no matter who they are. He’ll do it just to scare the rest into submission.”

Zander’s jaw clenches. “We can’t let that happen.”