I raise my hand sharply, silencing him. Fenris and Raiden both turn to face me, their expressions shifting from surprise to something unreadable.
Alivar, as usual, is a study in indifference, leaning casually against one of the marble pillars. With a flick of his fingers, he conjures a small flurry of snow, the flakes swirling idly in his palm.
Fenris runs a hand over the side of his head, his tattoos flexing as his muscles ripple with the motion. His eyes burn with barely contained fury; he looks like he’s about one wrong word away from tearing someone apart. Raiden, on the other hand, stands in complete contrast—calm and composed. He crosses his arms, watching me as I draw nearer, a small, knowing smile playing at the edges of his mouth.
“Your Majesty,” he says in a voice as steady as steel.
“General,” I reply, drawing to a stop in front of him. I want these rebels to know who they are dealing with. Though I’m sure everyone in Faerie knows Raiden. “What’s their excuse?”
Raiden turns, beckoning me to join him as we walk around the group until we are standing in front of them. Fenris follows, his dark presence making the kneeling fae shrink back.
I glance directly at one of the rebels, and his eyes widen at my attention. Then I slowly let my gaze travel over the others. Some seem fearful, while from others a deep-seated anger emerges.
Before Raiden can speak, one of them spits at my feet, a sneer twisting his face. “You must die before you ruin us all.”
Another shouts, “It’s the only way to ensure the Shadoweaver doesn’t escape.”
Fenris shifts in an instant, his menacing black wolf towering over the rebel, jaws snapping at his face.
“You think if you kill me the threat will be over?” I question.
“Yes. It’s your blood that unlocks the prison.”
Nolan storms forward, his hand lashing out and hitting the fae man across the face. “You’re a fool. You're all fools.”
“We are thinking of the realm!”
“You should be killing her, not crowning her!” another shouts.
My pulse kicks up and I frown, my eyes traveling over the group of rebels.
Nolan looks about ready to explode, but it’s Alivar who steps in.
“The old man is right. You're all fools.” There’s a calculated look in his eyes as he moves down the row of rebels. “The queen will be the one to bring peace, not destruction.”
“But her–”
Alivar’s hand reaches out, the ice sword forming in his hand poised over the man’s throat.
“The Shadoweaver cannot simply use her blood to unlock the prison. She must be willing.”
My eyes widen as the realization sinks in. Willing? What the hell does that mean? I feel a surge of frustration and confusion.
“Wait, what?” I blurt, stepping forward in disbelief, but Raiden’s hand lands firmly on my arm, holding me back.
Alivar inclines his head, his long white hair falling like a curtain over his face, hiding his expression for a moment. When he finally looks up, it’s with a predatory gleam in his eyes, focused on the rebels who kneel in front of us, bound and utterly bewildered. They stare back at him, their expressions shifting from defiance to uncertainty.
“You should know all the facts before mounting an attack against the crown.” Alivar’s voice is as cold and menacing as the snow flurries swirling around his sword. The air aroundhim seems to grow even colder, and the rebels shiver, visibly unnerved.
A ripple of murmurs spreads through them as they exchange uneasy glances, doubt beginning to overshadow their initial bravado. They’ve realized, perhaps too late, that whatever plan they’d devised was missing a crucial detail—one that could change everything and tip things in our favor.
I turn to Nolan. “Did you know this?”
Nolan rubs his temples. “I did.”
I frown. “Then why not tell me? It seems like something I should know.”
“I happen to agree with her.” Raiden’s wings flare out in a quick display of irritation. “If this is a choice, then we don’t have a problem.”
