I knew next to nothing about the exterminated race of fae. Those that sought to take over all of Isila and bathe the land in darkness. To devour the light in more ways than one. Maybe an ability to lie was part of what made other fae despise them so? That and the Shadow Faes’ tendency to violence, of course.
“When did you listen?” I needed to learn more, to see if I should trust this creature.
“The day you stopped in Traliska was the first time I heard you,” the fae replied. “Then I heard whispers the day you wed the prince. A marriage blessed by the Faetia and the stars, was it not?”
“What’s your name? Vale asked. “And why are you in a holy tree? Are you from another world?”
The idea hadn’t occurred to me, but yes, what Vale suggested made sense. Drassils, like certain places in Isila, were said to be hinges—areas where gateways could most easily be made. Sometimes natural portals formed there ever so briefly too. Hinges were as rare as snow in the Summer Court, but they existed. Somewhere. Sometimes.
“From this world,” he replied. “Once, I roamed the lands of Isila. At that time, I had many names.”
“Give one,” Vale retorted, his tone hard.
“King Érebo of House Nikao, ruler of the Shadow Isles, husband to Queen Nyxa of House Skialo.”
My heart fell to my knees. He was not just any Shadow Fae, butthe Shadow King.
“Why would a king believed to be dead be watching me through the trees?” I asked.
“You intrigue me, Isolde.”
Thyra stepped closer to the tree, and Thantrel made to follow, but my sister swept a hand out, not wishing for him to protect her.
“All this is interesting enough, but we’re here for the Ice Scepter. We feel it, and seeing as you’re stuck in a tree, I have to ask, is it in there with you?”
Again, he laughed. “I know of the Scepter, but I believe thatIhave answered enough questions. If you wish to know more, you must give me something in return.”
“What do you want?” Thyra asked.
“I wish for you and your sister to come closer,” he replied. “To touch the bark of my tree, so that we may speak without others listening.”
I recoiled. Nothing in me wished to comply, but Thyra cast an expectant glance back at me.
“Come on.”Desire for the Ice Scepter sat heavy on her face.
“I’m not sure this is a good idea, Thyra.”
“I won’t hurt you,” said King Érebo. “I only wish to speak privately, and no matter how low I whisper, we all know that the others will hear. Particularly the vampires.”
No answer escaped my lips right away, and in the silence that permeated the cavern, a sound came from above. Skittering?
I looked up. Found nothing.
“Please, Neve,” Thyra whispered. “Weneedthe last Hallow. If we’re to take our home back, if we’re to avenge our family, we need it.”
As it stood, Thyra had a band of rebels who had been fighting King Magnus on and off for many turns. I had my friends, my powerful mate, and the dwarves of Dergia. That small force could not stand up against the royal army, Roar’s forces, and likely those of Houses Ithamai, Qiren, and Vagle too. Perhaps I could convince a few noble houses to side with me, but to ask them to fight their king was a very large matter indeed. They would want to be certain that we’d succeed, or the fates of their houses would be dire.
Having all three Hallows would surely help to sway the great houses I hoped to ally with.
“You won’t hurt us?” I asked.
“I only wish to speak, not harm you.” He pressed his palms to the bark. An invitation.
“Fine.”
“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Vale said.
I turned to look my mate in the eyes. “The matter is mine and Thyra’s to decide, my love. We need the Scepter.”
