“You lost so many, and the war hasn’t begun.”
“Yes it has,” Thyra countered. “Just because we haven’t met Magnus on a field of battle doesn’t mean we’re not already at war, sister. The wheel has begun to turn. There’s no going back.”
“She’s right,” the king said. “And I knew, as every soldier who joined me in the tunnels knew, that we’d lose some among us. Despite that sad fact, no Isolde, I do not regret my choice. I’m a dwarf, as steadfast and loyal as the rock I have lived beneath for all my life.”
He’d said something to that effect before, back when things had been easier. When the losses had been less. I’d believed him then, but since then, I’d wavered. I’d questioned.
But the king in the bed had not.
Looking upon the king’s face and seeing Thyra study me, I realized I had only one choice. To move forward.
“Thank you.” I reached out, took the king’s hand. “Thank you so very much.”
He nodded and squeezed my hand. “Why don’t you fill me in on these shadow powers you have acquired? I’d like the whole story.”
“Thordur was the one to tell you?” I asked.
“I would not believe that vampire blood alone saved me. I forced the prince. Don’t blame him if he wasn’t supposed to.”
I shrugged. Blaming Thordur was the farthest thing from my mind.
“It started in the cavern where you saved us,” Thyra said, and I leaned back, content to let my sister tell the tale.
Chapter 26
ISOLDE
Thyra let out an exhale. “I’m glad we’re finally doing this.”
“Me too.” I gestured to the carriage following us. “I hope they like the food.”
Lord Balik had seen to it that the rebels were getting food, but we were supplying the rebels with a different kind of nourishment. Joy. Sweets, baked goods, savory cheeses, and fresh fruits weighed down the second carriage. All of it sourced by castle servants and purchased by us from the bakeries and markets closest to Ramshold.
“I’m sure they will. These kinds of treats were hard to come by at Valrun,” Thyra smiled, and the pure happiness there lifted my heart too. We were both enjoying the few hours of levity after days of stress and intense magical practice. “I can’t wait to see the younglings’ faces when we pull out the cakes.”
I grinned and looked out the window. As ever the streets of Myrr were busy with fae simply going about their lives. Shopping. Eating. A group of faun younglings played a game, and their parents watched them from under an awning. I noted that many now went without cloaks. Certainly, no one wore furs.
My gaze caught on a young male satyr laughing with a small gang of pixies. The hooved fae was probably a turn or two younger than me. He would be one of the fae called to fight for Lord Balik, one of many able-bodied males and females. My stomach hardened. How many of the families that we passed by would lose someone they loved for my family? For our cause?
For a better realm too,I reminded myself, but in no way could I know that everyone called to fight would agree. I simply had to do my best to deliver a kingdom I could be proud of.
In no time at all, the carriage slowed to a stop and, as we’d requested, the driver tapped on the wall. We didn’t want our names to be called out in the middle of the city. In fact, we wanted as little notice as possible, and had gone as far as to borrow the most plain carriages the Balik family owned. No dark green and gold here, only black.
The door opened and our Valkyrja, two of whom had been riding with the driver and the other duo in the other carriage, appeared. They formed a semi-circle as Thyra and I emerged, our thin woolen cloaks over our heads.
The heat of the early afternoon sun warmed my face. In other kingdoms, they’d still say it was cold, but those of winter blood were not used to such heat.
Thyra nodded to Sigri. “Lead the way.”
I studied the first apartment building. The other two lined the road further down. We’d visited before but not gone in all three. To hear the Balik males and Vale tell it, the rebels had taken up nearly every single family unit inside the housing structures.
“What happened to you?” asked the stocky guard standing at the door to the first building. A wry grin crossed his face as he took in Sigri like he knew her. Likely they’d met the day the majority of the rebels arrived in Myrr.
“Oh you mean this little thing?” Sigri pointed to her black eye, which in truth was anything but little. “Battled a frost giant.”
“Fates, remind me not to piss you off.”
“Too right.” Sigri’s voice took on a slightly flirtatious tone.
