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Bree held her breath, hoping. Norah had given the court an order, but that did not mean they would listen to it. They could rebel. The throne room could erupt into fights. They could storm back out of the hall and stand atop the battlements while they waited for death.
Every hope they had of winning should be shattered in a single moment. All it would take was one shout, one fist pound in the air, one rebellious fae who wanted to burn it all down.
One of the fae near the front reached into his scabbard and drew his sword. He held it up in the moonlight pouring in through the windows. “Together, we will fight. We cannot let these demons take the fae realms.”
A moment ticked by. Tension pounded Bree’s skull. And then the throne room exploded into cheers. Fae held up their swords and shouted at the ceiling, faces lit with determined rage.
Bree smiled up at Taveon, but the expression was short-lived. His face held a tense smile, but his eyes were as dark as night. Through the bond, she could feel the truth of him. He thought he might die.
“I won’t let that happen,” she whispered fiercely to him.
“Oh, Bree,” he said sadly. “I don’t think you’ll have any other choice.”
