Luccan laughed. “Yrsa is the realm’s biggest flirt, Filip. Take none of what she says seriously.”
“I’m serious about some things.” Yrsa winked at Vidar.
The Virtoris heir looked away, and I pressed my lips together to hold in a laugh. I’d have to ask Sayyida what that was about later.
The others bid Lord Riis goodbye, and we returned to the castle, intent on finishing our lunch. Or beginning it, in the case of the newcomers.
Along the way, the Virtoris siblings caught us up on what had happened to them since I’d last seen them, and what was happening elsewhere in the kingdom. As they’d fled to their island home soon after the king betrothed their young brother to a lady of the midlands, it turned out they’d heard little more than us.
My shoulders were beginning to relax again when we turned the corner, and I caught sight of a figure waiting before the doors of the room that we’d been taking our lunch in. The dwarf appeared young. Nervous too.
He spotted us and darted towards the group. When he reached us, he bowed low.
“I have a message for Princess Isolde.” With trembling fingers he handed me a small tube, the kind that fae tied to ravens’ legs for transport.
“Thank you. Anything else?”
“No. I mean, no, Princess Isolde.”
“You may go.”
The youngling ran off, and I opened the message to pull out the rolled-up paper.
“That’s King Tholin’s seal,” Vale said from where he stood at my side.
“It is.” I cracked the seal, unfurled the paper, and read the short plea that made my stomach drop to my knees.
Chapter 22
VALE
Our horses trudged through the snowdrifts, not yet fully melted this deep in the mountain range.
Keeping a bird’s-eye view of our small army, Isolde, Thyra, Lord Balik, and three of his sons soared above. As many gryphons and riders as House Balik and the rebellion could spare flew behind them.
The letter the dwarven king sent was short, but clear. His forces were trapped beneath a peak in the Ice Teeth Range. Hedged in by none other than a tribe of frost giants.
I shuddered. Normally frost giants ate animals, not fae, but King Tholin had already lost ten soldiers to this particular tribe before he called for aid. Ogres were more commonly known as cannibals, and they would be bad enough to come up against. I could think of few things worse than fae-eating giants.
“Your mate looks at ease leading.” Vidar shifted in his saddle and readjusted his gray fur cloak so it did not bunch beneath his arse. Qildor and Luccan rode with us at the head of the army column.
“She does,” I agreed. “And she learns more about leading every day.”
“A good thing too,” Luccan said. “Once we get Dergia out of this mess, the high lords will want us to move north as soon as possible.”
“After a few days,” Prince Thordur commented from his position right behind us. The prince of Dergia rode nestled between his sister and Sayyida, all three armed to the teeth. “My army will need time to rest. They have undertaken a long journey—part of why they’re in this mess.”
I couldn’t argue, though I doubted that even a fresh dwarven army could take on so many frost giants without casualties. Not when they were trapped within a mountain tunnel with only one exit.
“A few days’ rest,” I assured Thordur. Besides wanting the best for our army, I had plans in a few days. Plans that had nothing to do with the war and everything to do with what my mate deserved.
“How close do you think we are, anyway?” Qildor asked.
A good question. As I was not so familiar with this path through the range, and we had left Myrr in a hurry with little time to debrief, I could not answer. I waved forward a soldier wearing the black, green, and gold of the southlands. Three hunter green stripes running over his shoulders from back to front marked him as a ranger. A fae who had likely done this trek before.
“How far along would you say we are?” I asked when he reached me.
“Very close,” the soldier replied. “Soon, the path will taper, leading to that narrow defile that cuts through the mountains. I believe that in little more than an hour we’ll be in the valley the king described.”
