“Have you seen a redhead pass by here? Maybe with that little scamp Eraldon? Or a witch named Lex with a round ass and my bite mark on her leg?” She clacks her teeth again.
“I …” He looks up at me, his eyes going wide. “You’re the king of…”
“Have you seen the female? She’s a changeling. Red hair.” I step forward, catching his attention before he runs from the obsidian witch.
“I haven’t seen anyone.” He gives Selene a wary glance and picks a piece of bloody gristle from his teeth. “Except this unfortunate seeker.”
“Where?” I ask.
“Near the Nightkeep. There were a lot of them there, more than I’ve ever seen. That’s why I …” He looks up, as if trying to remember where he is. “That’s why I came north for better hunting. They were scaring everything off, and I hate the taste of them.” He spits and wrinkles his nose. “Their master has tried to ally with the wolves, but I want no part of it. So I stay far from the Nightkeep and the seeker lands.”
“Then that’s where we’re going. Eraldon must be gathering his forces outside the Nightkeep.” I hurry back to my horse and climb up. “She’s there.”
The fae steps toward us. “Can I get a ride to the—”
Selene waves a hand and he falls, his body contorting under the power of his curse. “Enjoy the hunt.”
“Eraldon thinks he can take the keep?” Everett jumps atop his mount.
“He can.” Selene ignores the wolf and returns to her steed. “He …” She stills and so does everything around us. The wolf, the wind, the trees. Even I start finding it hard to breathe, and I can almost sense my heart slowing.
What sorcery is this?
Only Selene is moving, a current of dark magic pulsing around her in green waves.
“Selene,” Charen grits out.
A flutter of burning gold falls from above her, the remnants of a spell, perhaps?
She reaches out and catches some of it in her hand, then holds it up to her ear. An ethereal whisper wraps around her and floats on the wind. White, gauzy sounds of mourning and secrets, none of them clear to me.
When she finally nods, her hold breaks, and my horse lets out a relieved chuff.
“Explain yourself, witch.” Everett’s arrow is now pointing at her face.
I raise a hand to stay him. He lowers the bow.
“The death of a witch.” She holds her palm to her face and blows the gold into the wind. It dances away above our heads and swirls up to the moon. “The fall of a realm.” With a cry, she jumps astride her horse.
16
Emma
The keep falls.
The slaughter doesn’t end until we’ve overrun the castle proper. Any soldiers who try to defend their king fall swiftly, the horde of seekers overpowering and killing all in their path. The trained fae warriors who took an oath to defend the realm are deadly, fighting with speed and brilliance—until they fall.
And they all fall.
What the seekers lack in flair, they more than make up for in numbers. Even the most battle-hardened high fae can’t stand against this onslaught.
Eraldon wraps my hand around his forearm and parades me down the main street of the town outside the keep. Screams are infrequent, and the air is thick with the scent of blood. Seekers feed, their hunger never abating as they take life after life.
“Shouldn’t we save some for turning?” I glance at Eraldon.
“We will. But only the best. Lord Caroldon has already rounded up the hopefuls, I believe.” He pays no mind to the death or destruction. His gaze is set on the castle doors, the ones now flung open and askew on their hinges.
Lord Caroldon. I know that name. But how? A chill runs through me, and I hear an unfamiliar voice that echoes with a threat. “Be quiet, and I won’t hurt you.”
