CHAPTER 1
SLADE
My courtyard is a hectic rushof soldiers.
I exit the castle, slightly out of breath from rushing around in preparation to leave. A couple guards come over to ask me questions, and then I turn my attention forward after they hurry away.
I count three dozen timberwings that stand between Brackhill’s castle doors and the sloshing moat. The water reflects a spoiled moon, gone yellow like cream that sat out too long.
All the soldiers are in their fighting leathers and thick winter wear, while the timberwings are paired up and being strapped into their own armor of black leather and metal breastplates to protect their vulnerable chests.
The beasts are antsy, talons digging into the cobblestone, sharp eyes on the sky. The soldiers know the risks, but the animals know the energy, and every single one of them is sensing the nerves, the suspense, the bloodlust.
They always do, when it’s time to go to war.
Beside me, chunks of black rock litter the ground like a heap of scattered coal from Queen Kaila’s earlier arrival. The black obelisk is now ruined and splintered.
Crumbling. Just like my fucking patience.
I want to leave now. I’ve hurried to ready myself, to ready my Premiers and my Wrath, and I need to get going.
My mind keeps spinning, gut twisting with this new truth that Lu brought. That the bridge of Lemuria is unbroken. Remade. Connected to the fae realm.
How the fuck did they rebuild the bridge? How does Seventh Kingdom even exist?
When I flew over Seventh years ago, all that was left was a fissured and freezing land of white and gray. No people. No animals. No cities. Just emptiness within the clefts. The only thing that seemed to remain was a lingering echo from the magic that had pierced through it like a shattered mirror.
I remember the wrongness of that echo. It reminded me of the scent that loitered after burnt food had been tossed away. A lingering unpleasantness that didn’t let up.
All that was left at the edge of the world was nothing. Nothing at all.
My father—The Breaker—broke that bridge hundreds of years ago, long before I was born. Powerful magic that made him the crown’s greatest ally. Made him famous and wealthy.
And now, someone or something took that broken bridge andfixed it.
I don’t know if my father is involved or even if he still lives. I don’t know who ordered this invasion into Orea, and I don’t know the state of the bridge itself.
But none of that matters. All that matters isher.
I now have a way to get to Auren. I’ve failed to open a rip, failed to fulfill my promise to find her, but now, there’s hope.
My rotting heart aches more incessantly. Pulsing in tune with my adrenaline, except instead of a beat, it just thrums,go go go.
Go to the bridge. Go to Annwyn. Go to her.
My hand delves into my pocket, my fingers twisting around Auren’s scrap of ribbon.
“I will find you. I will find you in that life. I fucking promise you that. But you have to go. Please, baby.”
The memory of my cracked plea haunts me. So does the way she’d said my name. The way she’d looked at me, with pure devastation.
My heart throbs with pain that seems to emanate from two different sides. Left and right, up and down, inside and out.
I can’t wait any longer.
Releasing the ribbon, my gaze searches the dark courtyard, the surrounding torches casting off an orange glow through the night. I see Ryatt organizing his handpicked Elites, the profile of his face lit up by the torch flame.
He’s motioning toward a pair of timberwings, while a few Elites fix the straps of the harnesses. Between every pair of beasts are the reins of a carrying compartment, woven from thick leather and stiff rope. War panniers. Able to hold soldiers and weapons for the timberwings to carry between them as they fly.
