“Hardly,” Dyfri replies calmly. “He’s the prime minister’s son. He has direct access to MI5 as well as military contacts. More importantly, he wants the same thing we do.”
Silas looks supremely unimpressed. “Polite political connections don’t win wars.”
“No,” the Welshman interjects, his accent thick. “But they can prevent unnecessary complications. He’s an asset, Silas.”
“If you say so.” Silas doesn’t sound convinced, but he turns his attention back to the maps spread across the table. “Though I reserve the right to say I told you so when this goes sideways.”
“Speaking of things going sideways, Cai,” Dyfri says, his tone taking on a sharp edge as he turns to the Welshman, “perhaps next time you could coordinate your recruitment efforts with the rest of us? You nearly blew everything by approaching Jack in the garden.”
Cai has the grace to look slightly abashed. “Time was a factor.”
“Time is always a factor. That doesn’t mean we abandon basic protocols.” Dyfri’s voice carries the authority of someone used to managing difficult personalities. “If anyone was going to recruit Jack, it was going to be me.”
Cai frowns. “I was planting the seeds. Seeing if he was receptive without you having to compromise yourself.”
“I appreciate the thought, but you should have discussed it with us first.”
The Welshman sighs. “You’re right.”
Dyfri nods in acceptance of his apology.
The easy way he chastises Cai, the respect Silas shows him despite his sarcasm, tells me more than any briefing could. These people have worked together before. Dyfri isn’t just involved in the Resistance. He’s one of its leaders.
“Right then,” Silas says, apparently deciding I’m not an immediate threat. “Let’s get on with it. I’ve got other shit to do.”
Over the next hour, I learn more about the scope of their abilities than I ever imagined possible.
Silas, it turns out, is the Grand Master of the Paranormal Council. Every supernatural creature that was living on Earth before the fey invasion falls under his authority. When he mentions having “legions at his command,” he’s not exaggerating. Vampires, werewolves, demons, spirits, and things I don’t have names for, all answering to the young man who looks like he should be fronting a goth band.
“We’ve been here longer than humans have had written language,” he says matter-of-factly. “We’re not about to roll over for a bunch of interdimensional colonisers.”
The casual way he mentions necromancy as one of his specialities makes my blood run cold. When he talks about “consulting with the dead” for intelligence gathering, I start to understand why the temperature seems to drop whenever he’s particularly focused.
Cai leads the dragon riders, and when I press for details about numbers or capabilities, he just gives me that enigmatic smile and says, “Enough.”
And Ninian... Ninian is a portal expert who fled the Fey Court and has been living under the protection of the Resistance ever since. The way Dyfri’s jaw tightens whenthe conversation touches on why Ninian left the court tells me everything I need to know about what he survived there.
“The summer solstice is our target,” Silas is saying, leaning over a detailed map of London. “Maximum symbolic impact, and the fey will be distracted by their own celebrations.”
“What exactly are we targeting?” I ask.
Ninian speaks up for the first time since we arrived, his voice soft but sure. “The portal network. All of it.”
“We’re going to sever Earth’s connection to the fey realm permanently,” Dyfri explains. “No more quick routes home. No more reinforcements. No more escape.”
The implications hit me like a physical blow. “You mean...”
“Complete severance,” Silas confirms. “The portals will close forever. Any fey still on Earth when it happens will be trapped here permanently.”
“That gives them a choice,” Cai adds. “Go home and defend their realm against the unseelie attacks, or stay here and be cut off from their people and their world forever.”
“The unseelie attacks are confirmed?” I ask, my voice slightly hoarse.
Ninian nods miserably. “The scouts I still have contact with... the armies are already massing. It’s going to be a slaughter if the seelie don’t pull back soon.”
“Then we make sure they do,” Dyfri says firmly. “We force their hand.”
“How many portals are we talking about?” I ask, trying to wrap my head around the scale of what they’re planning.
