I nod slowly, their words settling on my shoulders. “I know this land better than they do. That’s our advantage. Every inch, every shadow, every tree can be used against them.” My voice is steady, though beneath it all, my heart pounds with the uncertainty of what lies ahead. “In the days of old, the Sisters of the Vine were said to summon the very power of the forest, and even the animals rose to fight alongside them.”
The three Fae exchange skeptical glances, their disbelief evident.
“Pardon, Your Highness,” Arax says, his brow furrowing. “Animals?”
I give a small, secretive smile, stirring my bowl of stew before blowing on the steam lazily. “You’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you?”
Chapter 32
The days that follow are fleeting, each one slipping away faster than the last as The Grove transforms from a peaceful sanctuary into a place bracing for war. Knowing that we will receive no aid from Baev’kalath, Arax and Zyphoro take charge of training every able man and woman, their approach to teaching wildly different but equally effective.
Arax, with his calm and methodical precision, focuses on the basics—how to hold a sword, how to block, how to strike without wasting energy. His patience is endless, though the frustration is palpable in the set of his jaw whenever a trainee fumbles or hesitates.
“You’re holding that blade like a broomstick,” Arax growls at a young man, stepping behind him to adjust his grip. “If you swing like that, you’ll cut your own head off before you even reach the enemy.”
Beside him, Zyphoro grins wickedly as she demonstrates far more... unorthodox techniques. Her voice is smooth, almost teasing, as she whirls through the air with her daggers, her agility and precision something so instinctively naturally that it’sentrancing to watch. “Forget blocking,” she tells a group of wide-eyed recruits, most of whom are still struggling to keep their balance. “Your enemies will be faster, stronger, and crueler than you. So instead, be unpredictable. Be crueler. No one ever won a battle by fighting fair.”
She spins around one of the more timid trainees, whispering as she slashes her blade through the air mere inches from his ear. “See? Terrifying, isn’t it?” She laughs as the man stumbles back, pale-faced, while Arax rolls his eyes.
“Maybe try not to kill them before the battle,” he mutters under his breath. When he sees the concern plaguing my face, he straightens his broad shoulders, solid as a mighty rock, shattering anything that dares break upon it. “They will be ready, Princess.”
It’s a fragile reassurance, and we both know it, but it's enough to keep us moving forward.
Meanwhile, Solena has taken on a different task, one suited to her more practical mindset. She spends her days fortifying an underground shelter hidden deep within the forest, gathering whoever isn’t training to help her shore up the walls with thick wooden beams and stone reinforcements. Her work is meticulous, ensuring that if the worst happens, there will be a place for the children and the elderly to hide.
“I didn’t think it would come to this.” I mutter to her as the Tenders carry water, dried fruits, nuts and seeds into the sanctuary. “Maybe I should have stayed in that castle.”
“Don’t do that to yourself, Amara,” Solena says. “You would have died in Baev’kalath.”
“But The Grove would have been safe,” I reply quickly, a breath hitching in my throat.
“But for how long? You have seen how the houses quarrel. The Fae are holding on by the thinnest of threads. There is nothingto say your sacrifice would have saved The Grove. It is better off with you here, alive, to fight alongside them.”
“And if I fail?” I ask. An impossible question to put on Solena’s shoulders.
She answers it with the spirit I’ve come to expect from her. Strong and resilient. “Then we fail together, and I will consider that an honor if it is by your side.”
I reach out and grip her hand and when she squeezes back, it is all the reassurance I need. But there is one last thing I can try before I meet the Legion on the battlefield. One last attempt to spare innocent Tenders’ lives.
“I must speak to the Golden Son,” I say, and Solena’s hand loosens.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Amara. He will kill you on the spot.”
“He met with me once to discuss the terms of The Grove’s surrender. Perhaps he will meet again.”
“So now we are surrendering?” Solena says with mocking disbelief. She gestures to the sanctuary. “Do not tell me I have been digging in the dirt for nothing.”
“We are not surrendering,” I say firmly, “and that is an oath I take with every measure of my being. Instead, I will ask him to spare us from his war on the Fae. I have returned alone. I am no longer a part of their conflict.”
“You have returned with three Fae, including a princess and a lieutenant of the Ebon Flight, and still have a small company of Blades serving you,” she frowns. “I do not know this Golden Son, but if he leads an army as large and well organized as the Legion, I assume he has some common sense.”
I furrow my brow. “You are supposed to be on my side.”
Solena shrugs. “A true friend would tell you when you’re teetering on the edge of madness.”
My hand slips free from Solena’s and she releases a heavy breath. “I’m going, Solena.”
“Then I am going with you.”
