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6
TAVEON
Taveon stood in the North Tower, gazing across the realm as thunder and lightning whipped through the ever-present gloom of Underworld. Rafe stood beside him, hands clutching the stone wall. Bree had gone missing,again. And Taveon could not help but fear that this storm had something to do with her.
“This isn’t normal,” Rafe murmured. He turned to gaze in the direction of the Faerie Ring where Norah camped with her army. The vague flicker of firelight was the only indication they were there. Luckily, the rest of the court hadn’t discovered the light fae’s presence in Underworld. Yet.
It was only a matter of time.
“It’s a storm and nothing more.” Taveon pushed away from the wall and strode toward the stairwell leading back down into the castle. Rafferty followed close behind.
“I think it’s time you accept what’s happening, Taveon.” Rafe’s words were more blunt than they usually were, and his voice was as pointed as the sharp end of a blade. “That isn’t a normal storm, and you know it. Something is happening. And I’m fairly sure we both understand exactly what it is. Bree said that—”
Taveon stiffened and whirled toward his old friend with a growl. “Do not speak of it.”
Rafe frowned, but his eyes softened into something that was too close to pity for Taveon’s liking. He did not want anyone to feel sorry for him. Not even about this. “Taveon. Come now. Ignoring it won’t make it go away.”
He closed his eyes, pulling a deep breath of soothing cool air into his lungs. Ever since Bree had spoken those words aloud, he’d felt as though he teetered on the edge of a very tall cliff. The wind swirled around him, pulling at his hair, pushing at his limbs, desperately trying to knock him down into the depths of a chasm he could never escape.
Demons from the Realm of the Dead. Coming for him.
He didn’t want to believe it. All these years, he’d fought so hard for the fae, distancing himself from that part of him. He didn’t want any part of it, and his father—his true father—had never ventured from the beyond to challenge that. Taveon had begun to believe he’d never have to face him. But deep down, he’d been bracing himself for the day he returned to Underworld. There’d been a reason he’d come here in the first place, and it had not been to find love. He’d wanted a dark fae heir. And now that Taveon held the throne…
It made more sense than Taveon wanted to admit.
He ground his teeth and turned back to Rafe. “What do we do?”
Rafe exhaled, relief clearly etched into his face. “We explain to the court what’s happening, and we join our forces with Norah’s. It’s the only way this realm survives, Taveon.”
Taveon bit the insides of his cheeks. Surely there had to be another way. The court would never accept the light fae army in their lands. Centuries of hatred and distrust ran between them. That, combined with the death of his father…it was a recipe for disaster.
And in addition to all that, there was the truth about who he was.
“What about my reign?” Taveon asked, striding back over to the edge of the tower to gaze across his realm. The sky split with lightning once more, illuminating the verdant fields and endless forest just beyond them. He loved this place. He always had.
“I think it’s time you broke free of your bonds, old friend,” Rafe said quietly. “Tell them everything. And whatever happens is what was meant to be.”
He shook his head. “That is easy for you to say. I fought hard for this crown. I took it to keep someone far worse from sitting on that throne. They’ll replace me. And we will have no control over who that replacement might be.”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. You know I’m right. As the current king of this realm, you have to value the safety of your people ahead of your own ambitions. Your father wouldn’t have. But you aren’t that kind of ruler, and you never will be.”
Taveon’s entire body sighed as he leaned against the half-wall jutting out from the top of the tower. This was the last thing he wanted to do. He’d tried so hard to hide the truth about his heritage from everyone. Coming clean…what would the dark fae do to him? He couldn’t do any good if he spent the rest of his life behind bars.
“Before we do this,” he said, hating that he was even considering this, “we need to have someone else lined up who can take my place. Someone we trust. Someone who we know will do the right thing. But it also has to be someone that the dark fae would accept. There are not many fae who are both powerful enough and trustworthy enough to carry this burden.”
Rafe nodded, running a hand through his silken silver hair. “What about Eurig?”
“Eurig?” Taveon asked, alarmed. “He’s an outposter. They’ll never accept him.”
“He’s strong. He has royal blood. And we know that he would do the right thing for the realm. And for the Tithe.”
Taveon shook his head. “He’s hotheaded and stubborn. It would never work. Any other ideas?”
Rafe pressed his lips together, and that was when Taveon knew that his frienddidhave another idea. But it was one he thought Taveon would not like, so he was wary of mentioning it. With narrowed eyes, Taveon cocked his head. “Out with it, Rafe. I know you too well, remember? I know when you have something on your mind.”
“This is one better kept to myself, I think,” Rafe said quietly. A strange light flickered in the depths of his old friend’s eyes. Taveon’s stomach clenched. He’d seen that light in him before. Whatever this idea was, it had something to do with Bree.
Footsteps suddenly sounded behind them. For a moment, Taveon’s heart leapt up into his throat as his mind immediately went to Bree. She’d been gone for well over a day now.
But no, it wasn’t Bree at all.
Lord Dagen strode out onto the tower, his face grim. “Taveon. Fillan has just been to see the council, and he brought with him some disturbing news. We need to talk.”
