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“A couple of hours at most,” Elle said. “We had Kinsey heal your injuries as soon as we arrive.”
I studied each of their faces, trying to determine if I could trust them. Despite what Garrick had told me about possibly finding safety in Ashwood, I knew better than to believe fae that claimed they’d rescued me out of the goodness of their hearts. Especially when Ashwood was at war with Silverfrost. I didn’t know their motives, though I suspected taking me as a hostage could play to their advantage. What if they knew who I was, what value I possessed to the kingdom?
Even to Preston and Nerissa. They needed me alive for the solstice so I could open the entrance for them—that much was obvious, or they would have slain me long ago and filled a vial with my blood to use instead.
It was Kinsey who finally broke the silence, sliding a chair from the table over to the fire and sitting across from me. “I understand your hesitancy to trust us. But the only reason we are here fighting is because Silverfrost invaded our kingdom first. They’ve been slaying our people and causing problems for us all autumn, and we knew if we didn’t press hard toward an advantage now, before winter sets in, we might lose our hope of any chance of victory at all.”
“They’re toying with you,” I said. “Preston and Nerissa don’t plan for their fae army to overtake Ashwood.”
Prince Fitz and his brother shared a look before turning back to me. “What do you mean?” Fitz asked. “Why would they squander resources and soldiers on some...game?”
I leaned forward, resting my head in my hands. Though I felt no pain from the blow I’d sustained earlier, my mind was reeling. The information Preston had shared with me—the awful vision—wouldn’t stop flashing through my thoughts. A heavy weariness settled in my bones as I considered the actual fight before me, not one against powerful fae, but against undead souls who feasted on the living to sustain themselves. Who wielded death magic. Who couldn’t die again.
“I need to know,” I said slowly, taking measured breaths to calm myself, “what your motive is regarding Silverfrost. Do you intend to take it for yourselves? Will you harm the people? The servants?”
When I glanced up, Elle’s focus was intent on me. It was she, not Fitz or Holden, who answered, her grin conspiratorial. “We heard other rumors about you. That you wield magic because you’re half-fae, the lost heir to the Silverfrost throne itself. We don’t want your kingdom, Florentia Silverfrost. We want to help you take your throne.”
“Why?” I blurted.
Elle quirked a brow. “Because something tells me that, especially after we offer you our help, you won’t continue the war your predecessors began against our kingdom.”
“And we grow tired of losing our people in a needless fight,” Fitz cut in, his voice firm.
Before I could react, there was a cry outside the tent, followed by a feral growl. The hairs on my arms rose as everyone around me stiffened, hands flying to sword hilts. Storm clouds roiled in the tent corners, electricity tingling around us.
The four Ashwoods leapt for the tent entrance, and I threw myself from my chair to follow them. As they darted out into thecold night, I followed, scanning the few tents scattered nearby. Occupants were already spilling from their mouths, armed with daggers, bows, and swords. I caught a flash of white as a wolf charged from the shadows, mouth bloodied. Nearby, one of the guards stationed at the tent grimaced and pressed a hand to her bleeding shoulder.
Prince Fitz lifted his hands, clouds and lightning clashing in a powerful display as the storm gathered around us. Even outside Ashwood, with autumn breathing its last gasp, his magic was still formidable.
“Wait!” I shouted. “Please don’t hurt him!”
Holden and Kinsey hesitated, their hands on sword hilts. Fitz scowled, but Elle seemed to understand before he did—or perhaps, as a human, she was more willing to trust me quickly. She seized his wrist, jolting his attention to her. With a sigh, he released his magic and the storm clouds disintegrated.
I spun toward the wolf, meeting his familiar gold eyes. “Garrick. It’s all right.I’mall right.”
There was a beat where my breath misted between us as I waited, fearing he wasn’t under his own control and would continue to fight anyway. Feared how the Ashwoods would harm him if he lashed out against their own. But then, in a blink, Garrick was standing before us, clothed in the same leathers and fur vest he’d worn at the ball, though this time, he was dripping with knives and daggers fastened not only to his belt but also to leather bands strapped across his chest.
Eyes wary on the Ashwoods, he stepped toward me, his pace quickening until his hands settled on my shoulders. “Are you all right?” he demanded, scanning my body for injuries. His every muscle was taut, still poised to fight.
“Yes, they didn’t want to hurt me. They took me from Preston when he was dragging me to the dungeons.”
Garrick’s eyes burned with cold fury. “Didhetouch you?”
My hand flew to my neck, brushing my unbruised skin. “The Ashwood healer helped.”
Garrick’s chest heaved. “Curse this...” He shook his head, unable to speak plainly about his blood oath per whatever rules the siblings had bound him to. “Thisrestriction. I need to tear his throat out.”
Prince Fitz stepped forward, Elle at his side. “Who are you?” he demanded, studying Garrick warily. “Our people are at war, and you’ve invaded my camp and wounded one of my people. Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you.”
Garrick growled low in his throat, as if he were considering transforming back into a wolf any second.
Elle’s eyes narrowed. “Fitz. Why not wait for our guest to explain who he isbeforeyou start making threats?” She turned to me, arching a brow in a way that warned me her patience was only a little greater than that of her husband.
“He’s an ally,” I said hurriedly, clutching Garrick’s arm. “Garrick Darkgrove. He attacked only to rescue me.”
Garrick cast me a sidelong glance. “You trust them?”
I gave a single nod. “They know who I am. They want to help me take the throne and end the war.”
