“What are you waiting for?” I growled, my voice carrying over the crackle of flames, and the roar of the two remaining Frostdrakes.
They remained silent, and fury vibrated down my spine. “If you want to die so badly, then fine. I’ll leave you to the other two.”
Still, they said nothing. And they didn’t run or flinch away from my words.
They stood where they were. Watching. Waiting for… something.
I took a step toward them, and then another, my fury cooling into something sharper as details began to snag my attention. The complete absence of panic. The way their gazes tracked me with too much precision. The way the frost beneath their feet did not cling or bite as it should have.
The air around them rippled. Shimmered even.
One of the villagers smiled and pushed back his hood. His shape wavered, flesh and bone responding to a will beneath his skin, and antlers unfurled from his skull in a slow, deliberate curl.
The others followed, their bodies blurring and reforming as they shifted forms.
Some halted partway through the shift, antlers branching proudly above unchanged faces. Others yielded completely, spines arching and limbs lengthening until they settled into great stag forms, hooves striking the snow with quiet, thunderous force.
Thornharts.
But what the hells were they doing here?
More figures stepped from the rubble. They spread out with practiced ease to surround me on all sides, their antlers catching the glow of frostfire as they closed in.
Above us, the two remaining Frostdrakes screamed and circled lower. When icy flames spilled from their mouths, it bounced harmlessly off of an invisible barrier surrounding them.
Understanding struck me then. Cold and precise.
This was a trap.
And I was standing squarely at its center.
Chapter 44
Everly
Aripple of cold swept down my spine just as shouts erupted through the open window. My stomach dropped, panic tightening around my ribs like a vice.
How in the hells were they already here?
I pushed past my mother, heart hammering as I crossed the room in quick, uneven steps. My palms were damp against the window frame when I leaned out to see for myself.
Minutes. A handful of minutes was all it had taken for the world to shift on its axis.
Skaldwings floated in an eerie line above the trees, like a row of silent executioners. Beneath them, pockets of other Unseelie poured out beneath the trees, half- and fully-shifted Lupines and Shadeclaws and Thornharts already prepared for battle.
Before I could reach out to Draven, a spike of rage washed through the bond, intense enough to steal my breath.
Draven,I called toward him, pulse racing.
I’m handling it, Morta Mea,he replied, furious and focused as he sent an image of the Thornharts surrounding him.
He didn’t realize they were at the palace as well.
I pushed the scene outside my window toward him, letting him see the Skaldwings suspended outside the shimmering wards here, far too close. Far too confident.
A rare surge of panic flooded the bond.
The connection severed, and the next thing I felt was a blinding wave of pain. I stumbled back, barely hearing Lumen’s low whine outside the thundering of my heart.
