“You hated the Cruel King as much as I,” Magnus replied. “And I am requesting your assistance in wiping his bloodline from the face of Isila.”
“Are you not of the same blood?” Tyra asked.
Magnus hid the anger he surely felt at the jab. “I am Prince Calder’s son by blood but not in my heart. He never acknowledged me.”
“Why would you require such an acknowledgment?”
“We’re from different lands, Tyra,” the King of Winter replied. “And you have gotten me very off-topic. I seek an ally and want to know what you’d like in return should the mages come to my aid.”
“How many great houses are with these Falk females?”
“Three,” Rhistel answered. “One is unclaimed.”
“Which?”
“House Armenil.”
I hated that he’d pried that information from my head.
King Tyra’s gaze drifted up to me. “The Warrior Bear was besotted with a Falk. Princess Isolde, wasn’t it?”
Tell him she enchanted you. She has a darkness inside her that Isila will not survive, and you’ve come back to the light.
My body tightened at Rhistel’s command, but while I might filter my thoughts or hide small things from him, I could not deny him entirely.
“She enchanted me,” I repeated. “Isolde has a darkness inside her that Isila won’t survive, but I made it out. Back to the light.”
The words sounded hollow to me, but King Tyra didn’t seem to question it. He didn’t know me well enough to do so.
“And who are the others?” he asked. “I assume they’re important, as they’re here.”
“I’m Thantrel Riis. Son of the disgraced Lord of Tongues.”
“And this,” Magnus leaned forward and gestured to Érebo, “is someone who has experience with Isolde and her sister. Someone who could, if you work with us, change the face of Isila. A fae who would ally with you in return once we win.”
King Érebo stood and removed his robe. Black, smoky wings fanned out, revealing what race of fae he belonged to.
The mage shot to his feet, and magic hummed in the air. An attack imminent.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Rhistel drawled. No doubt they’d all planned and expected this. “You might be the strongest of your kind, but between Érebo, my father, Vale, and myself, we can take you down in an instant.”
“I allowed you into my home, and you brought thisabomination?” The mage sneered.
“I prefer to be called King Érebo of the Shadow Fae.”
King Tyra’s eyes sparked with instant recognition. “You shouldn’t be alive.”
“It’s true,” Érebo replied.
“You’re the same king who sought to take over my kingdom.Allof them.” He glared at Magnus. “You’re a fool for working with him.”
“I did all of that at the wish of my queen,” King Érebo replied. “Surely you understand appeasing your wife? From what I hear, you’ve had enough of them to have learned a thing or two.”
Three. Tyra took the fourth only earlier this turn.
The mage’s magic thrummed in the air, a threat. “I’m to believe that you did not wish for more land? More power? That you started a war and intended to start more to please a female?”
Érebo shrugged. “I’m fae. So I’ll admit, the power influenced me too, but it all started with my queen. And I’m sure you can imagine that many turns trapped in a tree have changed me.” The Mage King’s eyes widened at that, but the Shadow Fae didn’t give him time to question what he meant. “My imprisonment altered my priorities. I would settle for revenge against the Falks. That and finding a means to return my race to Isila. To the isles we once called home.” King Érebo’s gaze drifted to the single window in the room, as if he were looking for those people.
