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Dellacourt cursed as Roan had them stop, signaling the halt with a single fist in the air. Dellacourt leaned over. “Have you ever seen an eddy cloud that size? My uncle showed me one once, but it was tiny. This is at least a hundred yards across.”
Lach squinted as he looked up. “I’ve seen bigger ones back home, but I don’t know a single person who could ride one that big. They’re hard to maneuver. It takes a lot of magic to make an eddy cloud do your will. And to take that many passengers. Gods. Who is it?”
Roan let them move once more, creeping carefully along the sides of buildings as they approached the town square.
Lach got a glimpse of what was ahead of him. The square was covered with soldiers. Guards wearing the livery of the Seelie King stood in rigid formation. The cloud hung overhead casting a dark, ominous shadow. It was as though the cloud almost made the sky seem like twilight. He could see much more comfortably here. Even the vampires’ implants had disappeared in the absence of ultraviolet light. Lach was able to see that the villagers had made their way out of their homes and stood watching the guard, fear on their faces. The last twenty-four hours hadn’t been kind to this village. The war had come to them in a brutal fashion, but up until now only Torin’s guards had been killed. He could see the villagers now deeply feared for their own lives.
“It looks like they’re going to make an announcement. Once we hear what they have to say, we need to get back, pick up the others, and make a break for it. I don’t want to be seen.” Roan’s voice came over the comm system he’d been given this morning. It was a tiny device that fitted to Lach’s ear and allowed them to talk to everyone on the team over short distances.
There was a final pop and a woman appeared in the middle of the square. She was a vision in black, her dark hair perfectly coiffed, not a strand out of place. Her black dress had silver threaded through it. She was lovely. And Lach knew immediately that she was a hag.
“Crap me a river. I’ve seen that face before though she was a blonde. That’s one of Torin’s hags.” It was Dellacourt whispering now. “Does anyone see a cat? Kill the cat first. I’m serious.”
The hag smiled a superior-looking grin as she looked around. She was surrounded by soldiers, but Lach knew who had the real power here.
“Good afternoon. I bring you greetings from your king.”
The village was silent. A horrible sense of anticipation hovered in the air. It seemed to have weight as though a heavy, stifling blanket had been placed over the whole village just waiting to smother everyone.
The hag stopped her pacing. Crimson lips turned down and one eyebrow arched. “You have nothing to say? This village does not respect our glorious king?”
This village was full of peasants. They were up against well-trained soldiers with weapons, and all the peasants had were farming tools. And they were burdened with their children. Lach was happy when someone was smart enough to shout, “Hurray for King Torin.”
The rest joined in though it was a half-hearted shout.
The hag’s foot tapped against the dirt. “Where is the mayor of this village?”
Utter silence and then someone was brave enough to step up. Reymon. The shopkeeper left his wife standing with their daughter and son. The daughter looked to be of marriageable age, but the son was still a youngling, his hand clutching his mother’s.
Reymon took a deep breath, his hat in hand. “The mayor’s gone. It’s harvest time. The mayor took the guards to the next province. He’s guarding our shipments himself to make sure King Torin gets the percentage he needs.”
The hag pursed her lips. “Well, it is harvest time, and I don’t really care about the mayor anyway. He’s an unctuous little prick. So the good news, my soldiers, is we don’t have to worry about upsetting the local politicians. The bad news is all for you, Tuathanas’s people. The king is in danger. I need all young women past the age of sixteen to be gathered in the square. Any woman between the ages of sixteen and forty must report here immediately.”
Lach heard Roan curse. “It’s time to get out of here. Everyone fall back to the shop. We’ll locate our two lost packages and hit the road.”
“What are they going to do with those women?” Lach asked. He saw Reymon hurry back. Both his daughter and his wife looked to be in danger.
“It doesn’t matter. It only matters that whatever would happen involves two of our team members, perhaps three if Kaja isn’t in her other form when these soldiers catch her. Now fall back.”
The soldiers were moving, picking women out of the crowd and pulling them from crying children or angry men. One villager attempted to defend his daughter. Lach watched as a sword sliced through his belly.
It was wrong. There it was. That feeling in his gut. It wasn’t just triggered by Bronwyn. The warrior inside him had had his first blood and the utter injustice he saw had him begging for more.
“Your Highness, you said it yourself. This is not your fight.” Roan had made his way back, placing a hand on Lach’s shoulder. “What is your mission?”
“To save my bondmate.”
But Rachel Harper’s words were ringing in his head. These might be Seelie Fae but damn if they didn’t bleed like he did. And they loved their wives and children. The old and the infirm were struggling alongside the healthy, but they were going to lose.
“Your Highness, I see the light in your eyes. This is a mistake. There are too many soldiers. There’s thirty of them and nine of us and three of us shouldn’t be fighting. Shim won’t be able to handle the sunlight if the cloud disperses and Gillian and the gnome should stay hidden.” Roan shook his head. “I understand the need to stop an injustice, but we have to think about our own women.”
A soldier hauled Reymon’s daughter to the center of the square. She stood, shaking in front of the hag.
Reymon hadn’t been thinking of himself when he’d offered his home. Reymon had opened his own bedroom and thanked the goddess that the Unseelie kings had come.
Was Reymon standing out there wondering where the kings were now or had he figured out that his own life and that of his whole family would be weighed and judged as meaningless in the wake of Lach’s own?
He’d spent years trying to be taken seriously as a prince.
