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She tsked. “The tokens were made to protect us. Someday we may need them to protect ourselves from the selfish gods that you Fae worship.”
“Why would we need protection from them? They created us, why would they destroy us? And,” I pointed my bread at her, “it is actually a commonly told story that the token was gifted to the original King and Queen of Tierasia to hold onto, to protect us should the time arise. So I already know what the intended use is.”
“How could we know you’re telling the truth?” Her mouth puckered as she leaned toward me. “Especially if you want them destroyed?”
“There are other methods of protection that don’t include letting someone have unchecked power when we don’t even need it.”
“We can cross that bridge when we need to, Hattie,” King Windre said quietly. He spooned his soup into his mouth before dabbing himself with his napkin. “There are other pressing concerns, though I’m sure the time will come soon enough.” His attention flickered up to me.
I chewed sloppily, waiting.
“Word has reached me that there has been a string of mysterious deaths,” King Windre continued. “They seem to follow a straight path that is pointed directly at us. Starting at one of the junctions between our realm and Tierasia.”
Barthalow. Just as I said, he is cutting his way through Stylica.
“Then we are running out of time. There will be a problem here sooner rather than later,” I manage around my mouthful.
“That’s not the only problem heading our way. Hattie’s sister has advised us that King Ganglin may be coming here as well. Those two problems together mean we might need to send for some assistance.”
“So, Dace, you mean?” Hattie asked.
“Yes, King Dace will have to do. A pity about his parents, though. Soon enough Graceson and Jerydin will get the Nymph army here. That alone is a growing force that would be happy to take King Ganglin down. If they manage to make it here without any interference from Ottack’s moving army.”
King Windre knew the players of the little games that this realm liked to play, but all the names and components of the race war that I had been sucked into bounced around in my skull without really sticking. I took a spoonful of soup and drank it down till it was warm in my stomach. It didn’t seem like the four of us were in agreement on anything.
Specifically Red and me. That only fueled my fire even more. Let there be a wedge between us. Let it push her away. Let it propel me toward freedom.
I caught Red watching my hands as I tore pieces of bread apart on my small plate. Her attention flickered up to mine. “How’s your back?” I said with a smirk. Regret immediately ate away whatever good mood I could have had.
Hattie stiffened in her seat, her jaw falling open and then snapping shut to keep her spoonful of soup from falling into her lap.
Red glared. Her knuckles were white on the grip of her spoon. “Don’t mind him, Hattie. The asshole wants something to entertain him and he’s mad that it isn’t me anymore.” She lowered her chin, concentrating on scooping food from the bowl, but in the light, I could see the glint of pooling water in her eyes.
Some people just weren’t cut out to be friends. Apparently, Red and I were doomed to be enemies.
Chapter8
Ryker
Alarge shadow blocked the sun from view. For a moment my tired mind thought it was an angel sent from Mother Nature herself to finally take me to my eternal grave. Wings beat up and down as the figure circled above us. Then there were four wings. Two figures descending upon our marching Nymph army.
I sighed in relief as I saw the lopsided smirk of my favorite fire Fae. I hated to admit that, but Graceson was growing on me. He had that way about him. Eventually, he grew on everyone and you didn’t really get the choice. Graceson’s large brown boots kicked up a cloud of dust as he slowed to a walk and tucked his scarred wings at his side. Behind him, Jerydin matched the motion.
Jerydin was much skinnier than Graceson, which shouldn’t have surprised me considering he spent the majority of his time playing around in King Windre’s lab trying to find solutions for all the problems that magic created instead of training with the armies. The repression of all Nymphs powers, currently. I’d met Jerydin before in the Acture Court. He was a quiet, serious man and that was no different now as he chose to bob his head in greeting instead of matching Graceson’s ‘Did you miss me?’ as they slowed to a walk as they landed.
“I wouldn’t go as far as to say that,” I answered, my smile sluggish to lift the corners of my lips.
“It’s okay. I know you’re just saying that because you think my ego could stand to come down a few notches, which it doesn’t, but I’ll pretend you admitted the truth.” He tugged at the arm of my backpack. “Here let me take that.”
My shoulders slouched, the muscles aching from the hours holding the bit of extra weight. Graceson slipped his arms through the loops, putting the backpack on his chest like armor. He patted the pockets with a smile.
“Any signs of Ottack’s troops?” I ventured. We were getting closer to our destination, not really much further to go in comparison to how far we had already come.
“Not close enough that you need to worry,” he said. His red hair blew away from his face in the wind, looking like trailing fire as it kicked up behind him. The small braid he had near his ear lifted and tangled behind the loose strands until it could hardly be seen.
“And what about the research?”
Jerydin glanced at us from the corner of his eyes at the sound of that question. Graceson pursed his lips. “The research about Daethian?”
