“They don’t seem to be letting up,” Thyra muttered after a minute or so.
Tonna, Sigri, and Halladora were imposing and doing their best to quell the violence, as were the buildings’ guards, but there were simply too many rebels. Too many locals who wanted them gone. Too much pent-up aggression and distrust.
“Should we . . .” I called my power, filled the air with a sparkle of frost that fell to the cobbles when I released.
“I’m not sure,” Thyra said. “I don’t want the locals to despise us but—” The next word died on her lips, and my twin paled.
“What?” I asked but got no answer. Got nothing but a massive shock when a shadow burst out of Thyra. “Fates!”
My sister jumped too, but when the shadow, distinctly in the shape of a faerie, stared at her, she nodded, as if innately understanding. “Save the kid. Stay hidden by the ground.”
The shadow soared away, leaving me with my mouth wide open. I followed its inky form and found what Thyra had already spotted. The brownie youngling we’d given cake to had been caught in the middle of the fighting. She was so small she’d been easy to overlook in the crush and was laying on the ground, passed out, the cake smashed next to her.
The shadow wove through the violence, morphing from faerie-form to a ribbon that glided along the ground like a snake. When it reached the brownie, the shadow figure wrapped around the youngling, still unnoticed by those fighting around her, and came back the way it went, along the ground, all the way to us.
“Let it pass,” Thyra said to Astril who looked as astonished as I felt. She knew we wielded shadow magic—had been there the day it was set free—but this,thiswas new.
We fell to our knees as the shadow joined us, unwrapped itself from the youngling and formed a body again.
“Leave.” Thyra gathered the brownie in her arms, and the shadow figure dissipated. “She’s breathing.”
“How did you know how to do that?” I asked.
We’d both created tendrils of shadows and were slowly gaining control over that form of magic. Still, we’d never made something so lifelike. So like how Sassa’s Blade produced shadows. How, now that I thought about it, King Érebo likely used his shadows.
“I’m not sure,” Thyra admitted, “but I called that magic to be useful and that’s what happened. Not sure I could do it again.”
“Do you think anyone saw?” I asked.
“Look at them.” Thyra nodded at the violence before us. “No one is even watching us. I’m fine.”
She was right. Had anyone seen a shadow figure, or even a stray tendril, they’d say something. At the very least, they’d be terrified, as most fae were scared of shadow magic. But nearly every fae in the area was still fighting, and those who were not had either sustained injuries or stood on the sidelines and shouted insults or encouragement. No one was paying us any attention.
The youngling opened her eyes, and that was our cue to stop talking. After making sure the girl was fine, we told her to sit safely in our carriage.
I shut the door behind the brownie and turned to my sister. “The soldiers and Valkyrja are not having the desired effect.” There were simply too many rebels and locals and too few soldiers to keep them contained when they were riled. We needed to help.
The temperature dipped as together we called our powers and sent a wave of magic over those fighting. We didn’t freeze the fae solid, but stopped just short of that, essentially making it impossible for them to move quickly.
The soldiers took advantage of the break in movement and pushed themselves between the two groups. Finally, when distance was established, Thyra and I moved to stand between the locals and rebels.
We released our hold, and a collective sigh rang up from those who had felt our magic.
“Terrifying.” A local glared at us.
“You know what’s terrifying?” I countered. “That you can do this to a fellow fae. That you so easily spill blood on your city streets when these people just want to survive.” I gestured to the rebels before shifting my arm to the other side. “And these people want assurances that their home is still their own. That they’re safe here.”
“You’re two sides of the same coin,” Thyra interjected. “And neither of you are enemies to the other.”
“One of them stole from my family greenhouse!” a local shouted. “My aunt and uncle went hungry for moons!”
“I’m not saying what the rebels always did was right.” Thyra held up her hands. “They, and I include myself among them, did what was necessary to survive, which I think most of you can relate to. And we all had to go to such lengths because we share a common enemy, a king who has made all of us suffer for more than twenty turns and never admitting that he was at fault. Never saying he did not have the Ice Scepter and that was why winter became so harsh.”
“That’s what Lord Balik said, but winter has been lifted,” someone in the crowd said, “at the king’s hand.”
“Yes,” I admitted. “But can you trust someone who kept something so important from you? All because he didn’t want to appear weak?”
“Are you saying that when you lead,” a local female close by stepped forward, “whichever one of you sits on the throne, you’ll be open and honest with the people? I find that hard to believe.”
