“You’re in luck.” Our escort, the same part-troll named Ulfiel, turned. He bore a smile for Anna he had neverbestowed on the rest of us. Warm and sincere. “Today a hunting party returned with boar and a few birds.”
“Excellent.” Anna beamed at Ulfiel, and his cheeks darkened.
A moment later, Arie slid forward to walk by Anna and stole her attention by pointing to something outside a window crumbling around the edges. Luccan caught my eye and together we shared a knowing smirk.
As a youngling, I’d heard about the Curse of Valrun. Mother had told the tales to Rhistel and me. Likely because she was the mother of two males who liked to get into trouble, she considered it a cautionary tale. In truth, the story had taken seed. Being in a place such as this made my skin crawl, though I could not deny there was a hint of thrill present too.
Valrun and the town that used to sprawl around it had been empty of fae for centuries. No one dared to travel close by, which for the rebels proved both a blessing and curse. Vitvik and a smaller town were close enough for basic supplies, but they could not fix this castle. As the castle stood now, it was minimally protected. The holes in the ceilings, walls, and the eroded windows—some empty of glass—allowed the winter chill inside. The few tapestries lining the walls did not help much. They hung threadbare, perhaps from the time of the curse’s final blow.
“Here we are,” Ulfiel said as we turned a corner.
Sounds filtered from down the hallway, and I steeled myself for more attention, which I should have been used to growing up a prince. Though getting attention as the beloved Warrior Bear versus a prince whom the rebelsdespised because I’d helped imprison or kill some of their lot were two different circumstances.
“Smells good,” Thantrel commented, sniffing the air, though his face turned away from the dining hall as he did so. My eyebrows pinched together. Thantrel had always been excitable, but there was something about Valrun that distracted him more than usual.
Ulfiel twisted his hand, extending in what I could only describe as a lackluster gesture of welcome when we approached the door to the dining hall. “Those inside have been told you’re under protection, so expect no bloodshed. I’ll wait in the hall to show you back.”
“Thank the Fates we have private shitters in our annex,” Thantrel muttered. “I’d hate for someone to have to show each of us there. Full-time job, that’d be.”
Three steps into the dining hall was all it took before the rebels took notice our arrival. Forks and knives hit plates, conversations lowered or stopped, and heads turned.
“Ridiculous comment coming in,” Luccan gestured back to his youngest brother, “Three, two, o?—”
Thantrel cleared his throat. “I could teach all of you to have long flowing hair like this too.” He pointed at a table closest to us. “Well, maybe not you with the raggedy brown curls, but—ow!”
Arie removed his elbow from Thantrel’s side.
“Was that necessary, Arie?”
“Oh shove it, Than. I’ve seen Sayyida punch you harder in the side, and you didn’t make a sound.”
“Well, I was ready for her.”
“Not sorry,” Arie muttered. “I’d like to eat a full meal and not get stabbed. So you should quiet down.”
At the very least, Thantrel’s antics were keeping my mind off Neve. I felt certain of her safety, and proud that she was taking steps to become who she wanted to be, but that didn’t mean I enjoyed being away from my mate.
I took in the spread as we approached the feast table at the front. I was more used to being served but had been to a feast or two like this before where fae served themselves. I could understand the rebels operating in this manner. From what I’d seen, anyone they could use as a soldier became one, and that likely left few people to complete tasks regarding the wellness of their home base, such as cooking and cleaning.
At the long feast table, a sole, tiny brownie offered us plates. I thanked him, which earned me two wide eyes before the brownie scurried off.
Could have been worse.I awaited when rebels would confront me.
As we’d been fed only breads and cheeses since we’d been taken captive, we were all rather hungry. We filled our plates with roasted boar, cheese, and bread. No vegetables or fruits were present, which made me wonder if they had a fae gifted with earth magic to produce such things. I selected an empty table near the front of the room, figuring it would be pointless to hide in the back or to the sides when others had been staring since we walked in.
The moment we sat down, however, something distracted me from the onlookers and my friends. Outsidean intact window, standing in a courtyard, was a Drassil tree.
Of course. This once was the home of nobles. Why wouldn’t one be here?
This tree, however, looked even worse than most I’d seen of late. The purple leaves, or what remained of them, drooped and were veined with a blackness that brought to mind the darkest creatures of the realm. The bark appeared dull, not shimmering, and full of life and magic. The tree was also smaller than most I’d seen. Certainly smaller than the Crown Drassil at Frostveil and the Heart Drassil at the Tower of the Living and the Dead—both trees I’d been called to tend in the past.
What did that mean for the realm? For the Faetia and the magic all around us? Drassil trees weren’t only connected to the magic of Winter’s Realm and the spirits of fae who once lived. It was also said that the trees were hinges, places where the veil between worlds was thin. Like gateways to the human world—though no one fae knew anything about the worlds the Drassils connected to. We believed them to be places of limerence, of pure magic, and if they died, we would live a diminished life. Or more likely, die too.
“Don’t even think about it,” Duran said.
I turned to my friend, shocked to find that he’d already devoured a quarter of his food. “About what?”
“Touching that Drassil. I can see that longing in your eyes, Vale. You can’t.”
