The men shouted in confusion, scrambling out of the vehicles before they were eaten, too. Their swords hissed free from their scabbards, steel gleaming in the fading light. They fanned out, surrounding Mal. Mal rolled her eyes at the display. And then she rolled her head around her neck, letting loose the tendons and tension that had been building up for years.
The men lunged, blades flashing. Mal moved with the fluid grace of a dancer, her body twisting as she sidestepped the first strike. She caught the man’s wrist mid-swing, twisting it until the sword clattered to the ground. With a quick flick of her hand, a vine shot up and coiled around his legs, dragging him backward into the underbrush.
Another soldier charged, sword raised high. Mal met him head-on, her horns lowering in defense. The curved tips caught his armor with a metallic scrape, throwing him off balance. She shoved him backward with her shoulder, and he stumbled, landing hard on his back.
She spread her arms, and the forest responded. Branches reached out like arms. Roots snaked along the ground. Vines lashed toward the soldiers, dragging them down one by one.
The last man standing gritted his teeth, fear flickering in his eyes. He gripped his sword with shaking hands but didn’t swing. “We—we were under orders.”
Mal stepped closer, her green eyes glowing bright with malice. “Whose orders?”
He swallowed hard, stumbling over his words. To Mal, it sounded like a jumble of names, muffled and meaningless—until one name rang clear.
“Aurora.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Phillip sat at the long council table. His fingers rested lightly on the wooden surface. It looked like oak, though he knew it wasn't. Oaks were sacred in this region—sacred and sentient. The material was likely pine. That species had never evolved into awareness. Though Phillip had his doubts after being bonked on the head by more than one pinecone in his life.
He traced the grain of the wood as the voices around him droned on. The midday sun filtered through narrow windows, casting stripes of light across the room. Even in the warm glow, Phillip felt a strange chill settle in his chest. His scar throbbed again, sharp and insistent.
“We’ve had some... resistance from the fae folk in the Enchanted Forests,” one of the councilmen said, his tone dismissive.
Phillip barely knew the man. Lord Queros. He had been an assistant to Lord Rowanthor before Phillip left for the borderlands. Now Queros held the man's seat. In fact, many of the seats were occupied by younger lords. Not a single lady. Not a single fae.
"Why isn't the Forest Guardian in attendance at this meeting?"
The room went silent. All heads turned toward Phillip. Lord Queros opened and closed his mouth like a fish that had been pulled out of water.
"They were invited," Aurora piped in, her voice trilling with diplomacy. "However, they have never once shown up in the three years you've been away."
“Attendance from fairies,” Queros sneered. “They’re little more than relics of a bygone era. An evolutionary misstep before humankind rose to dominance.”
Phillip’s hand curled into a fist beneath the table. Was this the way the entire table thought? No wonder the current Guardian didn't bother making an appearance. That would stop today.
Before Phillip could respond, Aurora’s voice rang out. Not raised. Rory never raised her voice. Nevertheless, her tone came out smooth and commanding. “That is enough.”
The councilman closed his fish-mouth. Around him, every gaze shifted toward the princess. Aurora sat beside Phillip, serene and poised, her golden hair catching the light like a crown. She folded her hands in her lap, her expression calm but unyielding.
“The fae were here long before we built our kingdoms. And though the fairy godmothers no longer answer our calls, it is still our responsibility to maintain peace. The human population is growing. Our advancements are outpacing what magic has done for this realm. If we are to thrive, we must move forward—but carefully.”
Her words were measured. Her tone was thoughtful. The councilmen bowed their heads in silent agreement. Phillip watched them closely, noting the way even the most arrogant among them seemed subdued in the face of her reasoning. Hefelt a flicker of gratitude toward Aurora. She always knew what to say, how to navigate contrary people with grace and precision.
Not for the first time, he wished he could love her the way he’d once loved Mal. The way he still did love Mal. At some point over the last three years, his heartbeat had quieted, almost as though it slumbered. These days, his heart barely beat at all. It was sluggish, weighed down by grief, dragging through every moment like a heavy stone.
Another report was handed across the table. Phillip scanned the parchment, and his pulse quickened.
“The machines are moving too close to the border. That area there —” He pointed to the spot on the map where the ring of sacred trees stood. “That area is... significant. It should remain untouched.”
Before anyone could respond, a distant commotion echoed through the hallways. The sounds of voices raised, feet stomping, and hurried movement reached inside the closed council room doors. The noise was muffled, the words garbled as if spoken through water.
Phillip frowned, turning his head toward the door, straining to hear. Aurora touched his arm, snagging his attention away from whatever was happening outside.
“I know you have an affinity for the fae folk. Why don't you take this map and cordon off the areas you wish to protect?"
The commotion sounded louder. It tugged at Phillip's attention with urgency. Aurora's fingers were gentle on his cheek as she turned his attention back to her.
"The sooner you go, the sooner you can ensure nothing sacred is disturbed.”
