“As was I.” I turned to my sister, my eyebrows pulled together. “Do you think it’s beneath the tree? Buried there by purpose or chance? Maybe that’s why the tree is healthier than others of its kind.”
From behind, Vale cleared his throat. “It would be sacrilege to find out.”
“An affront to the dead gods themselves,” Ulfiel added, a tremor in his voice as three fingers went to his chest and he dragged them downward in reverence.
If people continued to die, and younglings continued to be born misshapen and weaker than generations before, would it be worth it to cut down the tree? Or, at the very least, to dig under the roots? Imagining the tree tipping if we’d dug too deep made me cringe.
Thyra gestured above. “I say we search the tunnels. An animal might have dragged the Scepter anywhere. If it’s not there, we dig around the tree,” Thyra cleared her throat. “Dig with great care.”
“Don’t fly for too long,” Vale added. “It’s utterly freezing in here. Colder than outside.”
He was right. I’d managed to not be bothered by the temperature because the hunt preoccupied me. Once you stopped moving through, the cold was piercing indeed.
“Let’s take it in turns,” Luccan suggested.
I was about to agree, but a whisper teased my ear. I twitched. That had felt close. Closer than any had been before. I twisted toward the sound and found a dark, male face looking back at me.
“Screaming stars!” I jumped into Vale, who placed me behind him.
“What is it?” he commanded,Skeldain hand.
“The tree!”
A few shuffled back a handful of steps as they took in what I’d seen.
“It’s rare that visitors enter my mountain.” The face rasped, his voice so familiar, despite the motion of the barky face being so completely strange. “I almost thought the voices I was hearing were but a dream.”
A body appeared below the face and the features sharpened and began to look more like a normal fae, though the color of him was still the same as the tree bark. The result was a male as tall and muscular as Vale with wings sprouting from his back. However, unlike our wings, they tapered to nothing at the ends, like smoke blowing away on a faint breeze.
No, not smoke. Shadows.
I stared at the male, recognition dawning at the sharphawkish nose, the dark eyes, and the square jaw. The same face I’d seen when I’d placed the Frør Crown atop my head.
“Who are you?” Vale asked,Skeldastill aloft.
My mate wasn’t the only one to have drawn a weapon. In fact, I was in the minority, alongside Xillia, as the only fae not prepared to attack. I righted that oversight, pulling Sassa’s Blade from the sheath, and immediately regretted the action, for I swore the trapped fae’s eyes lit up.
Fool. He’s in a tree! His eyes are nothing but bark.
And yet, judging by the expanding pit in my stomach, logic was not convincing. Not even to myself.
“I am a visitor to this kingdom who took a wrong turn,” the fae smiled and though he was undeniably attractive, it was not a thing of beauty. No, his smile set my teeth on edge.
“You’re a Shadow Fae,” I stated, having found my voice. “I’ve seen you before.”
“Did you? That makes the two of us, for I’ve seen you before, Isolde. You as well, Thyra.”
My sister’s expression, as hard as a blade, revealed the slightest shock before she hid it again.
“How?” she demanded.
“I live in a Drassil tree,” the Shadow Fae waved a hand up at the leaves. “Tending it takes much of my time, but like all Drassils, mine connects to others—like the ones Isolde has communed with. Like the one at Valrun Castle, the same tree you often stare at, Thyra Falk.”
My sword lowered. “Have I spoken with you?”
“Alas no,” he said. “I’m not of this kingdom and cannotspeak through your other holy trees, just this one. But I can listen. I can watch.”
I didn’t believe him. Something in the way he spoke made me think he was lying. Could Shadow Fae lie?
