Cabal game nights were legendary affairs that lasted for hours and involved copious amounts of ale, wine, and harder spirits. Though last night’s game was less well attended than most. I had been busy pleasuring my mate, and I knew that none of the Riis brothers attended either, all three busy with their own love lives.
“We played for two more bells.” Vidar held up a pair of fingers. “And yet, I’m here.”
“Not Caelo or Duran.”
“Neither of them grew up around sailors, and it shows,” Sayyida said with a wave of her good arm. The table broke into soft laughter that transformed into many disparate conversations.
I pulled out Isolde’s chair. She settled beside Thantrel, seated by Thyra at Lord Balik’s direct right. Across the table were Lady Balik, Filip, and my sister, all in places of honor among the Warden of the Southlands. The other Riis brothers were further down the long table with their ladies, Anna and Clemencia.
After my mate wished her twin a happy nameday, she leaned closer. “No mark on Thyra.”
“Too bad,” I whispered back.
“Indeed,” Thantrel muttered.
I had to hold back my snort of laughter. My poor brother would wait until his dying day for Thyra. I only hoped she wouldn’t allow that and one day, they’d both be as happy as Isolde and me.
Servants swept in with food and tea, and breakfast began. Light conversation peppered the room as we ate. This early,no one liked to fixate on the war or other somber matters and especially not on a day as special as this one. Breakfast was for connection and joy, and we took advantage of the time.
Perhaps because of the drink or the dancing or the hours I’d kept Isolde awake after the party, but my appetite was larger than normal. I inhaled one of every item brought out and was considering going in for seconds as I listened to Lord Balik regale the table with a story. He was nearing the climax, obvious from the rising tone of his usually subtle voice when Sigri entered—seemingly much to the annoyance of the Balik guards at the door. Beside the dwarf was a youngling around Filip’s age, her fists clenched tight at her side.
“Is something happening?” Thyra asked.
“I’m not sure, Princess Thyra,” Sigri said. “This messenger came from the aviary. She has a note for Prince Vale.”
The youngling approached the table, curtsied clumsily. All the while her wide eyes bounced between Thyra and Isolde, giving me the sense that she didn’t know how to act in their presence.
“I’ll take that,” I said.
“Of-of-of course, Prince Vale!” the messenger lost all composure as she scurried over, hand outstretched, knuckles white from clutching the small tube. “I would have had a servant leave it in your suite, but it’s colored red on the outside. That means?—”
“It’s urgent,” I finished. “Thank you for delivering it.”
She handed it over and ran from the room. Sigri plodded out after the youngling, shutting the door behind them.
“The Armenils?” Isolde asked and didn’t bother to lower her voice. Everyone at the table was watching and listening.
“There’s no seal of the direwolf,” Marit said from a few seats down. Many times, she’d expressed frustration that her family had not written back yet.
“They’ll reply.” I examined the battered tube. “This tube has been used more than once.”
Not unusual. Most tubes were reused time and time again, though not the ones the noble houses sent out. They created new ones for each message and gave the old tubes to commonfae or institutions like the House of Wisdom.
I had a hunch who this message might be from, and upon opening the tube and unfurling the small scroll inside, I saw I was right.
“From a friend. A captain in the Royal Army named Gorm. I wrote to him to see if I could not get a few captains to defect and maybe bring other soldiers with them.” A smile spread across my face. “Gorm has agreed. As have two of my other friends—Asmund and Helga, all of whom I’ve been on many missions with. They were with one another outside the walls of Avaldenn when the messages were received and thought it smarter to only send one back.”
“A good idea. Too many ravens leaving an army camp draws attention,” Lord Balik agreed. “They’re in Avaldenn, you say?”
“Gorm says that the armies have been amassing there for weeks, but soon, they plan to march south. My friends will be working to convince others to join them as they march. When we meet, however, they will switch sides.” I scanned the scroll further.
Gorm had taken a great risk in writing to me and giving me as much information as he could.
“They’re under Roar’s command. Close to twenty-five thousand fae.” I swallowed the staggering number. At fourteen thousand fae between three armies, our numbers were far less.
“Lord Roar?” Tadgh Balik’s nose wrinkled. “Why not someone more capable?”
Isolde laughed, but I understood. It wasn’t that Roar could not lead fae. He had many times. He was strong in combat, or hehad been before he lost his leg. And as much as I hated to admit it, Roar was unbeatable with a bow and arrow.
