“Death,” he said with surety. Of all the fae here, he was the only one I suspected could rival a vampire’s sense of smell. “Maybe those wolves found something to eat and left meat on the bones?”
“Sounds reasonable to me,” Neve piped up. She hadn’t taken her eyes off the tree. “Or other wolves. We need to be on the lookout, right?”
“Agreed. Let’s go down,” Thyra added.
We could have flown down, but the air here was still cold enough to make that uncomfortable, even for the fae turned vampires, and there were stairs. Old, crumbling steps, but steps all the same.
Two by two, we descended the staircase. I watched Neve’s every step and kept my hand onSkelda’shilt, not sure I trusted this place. The space may be deserted and peaceful in appearance, but that worrying scent lingered in the air. It set my teeth on edge, and while Neve and Thyra were quick to dismiss it in hopes of finding the Ice Scepter, I remained alert.
“Skies, if only we’d found a tunnel closer to the bottom,” Thyra complained when we were halfway to the bottom. “This is—ahhhhh!”
She’d been walking along the edge and the step she’d landed on gave way beneath her boot. The rebel leader toppled, but Thantrel and I caught her before she could fall far. Pressed against the wall, Neve’s eyes went wide.
“Are you well, sister?”
“Fine,” Thyra cleared her throat, and a soft blush arose in her cheeks. I’d let my mate’s twin go when it was clear Thantrel had her. His hands remained supporting her. “Thank you, Thantrel.”
“I’ll always catch you,” he replied, his tone serious yet also, somehow, flirtatious. Something only Than could manage, I supposed.
“This is no time to succumb to Than’s charms, Thyra,” Luccan teased.
She rolled her shoulders back. The old Thyra returned. “Sheathe your weapons. We don’t want anyone accidentally hurting themselves if the stairs give out again. From here on out, we go one at a time.”
We descended the rest of the way in single file, and I swore Thantrel had a bit more bounce in his step as he trailed right behind Thyra. And for her part, the raven-haired Falk looked back once, stared right up at him before catching herself and resuming her mission.
As we reached the bottom, Neve turned, caught my eye, and winked. She’d noticed the interaction too. I took her hand in mine and pulled her close, savoring her scent of smokey vanilla.
“If you find it, be careful, Neve.”
We knew about the Ice Scepter’s power, or at least what the previous Falk monarchs told us. I knew from experience that might not be the entire truth. With fae, and particularly royals, you could count on many omissions.
“I will.” She kissed me before turning away.
Her sister waited for her with arms crossed.
“I didn’t want to investigate without you,” Thyra said when Neve arched her brow. “We found this together.”
Neve smiled at the inclusion, at their growing bond. “Let’s take a look at this tree.”
Chapter 44
NEVE
Thyra and I approached the Drassil. How the tree was here, bathed in sunlight while darkness ruled the rest of the cavern, baffled me.
Since arriving in Winter’s Realm, I’d not seen a holy tree so alive. So vibrant. Or with as many leaves.
Like the first Drassil I’d seen in Traliska, I yearned to touch it. To see if this tree would speak to me too and, if so, what it might say. Would I hear my mother again? My father? A stronger tree had to mean a stronger connection to the Faetia and with Thyra by my side, I yearned to attempt contact.
But first, the Scepter.
Sassa’s Blade remained sheathed; however, I needed to only touch the top of the hilt to know it was hot. I assumed the Frør Crown was too. Throughout the journey in the tunnels, between feeling our Hallows and hearing whispers no one else heard, my sister and I had traded assurances we were on the right track.
Sowhere wasthe Scepter? I didn’t see it down here. Nor in the branches above. The tree featured a hole that I could imagine an aura owl nesting in, but it was not deep. From paces away, I could tell no Hallow of the realm glittered inside.
Had we been wrong? It didn’t feel like we were wrong. If anything, the closer we got to the Drassil, the stronger the magic that came off it. Magic that was familiar, but also somehow unidentifiable.Different from other holy trees.
“I don’t see it.” Thyra exhaled a long breath. “But I was so certain.”
