I should be happy that Tristen gets to come with me. I am, but… what about my family?
“It makes no sense,” I hiss, grabbing Cyrus’s letter off the floor.
Nero, Ember, Cyrus, and Ryker are to go to Lockhelm, a small human town that borders the western Fae kingdom of Lunestra. The humans call it the Night Court. The huge mountain ridge called the Cradle of Darkness separates Solaria in the East and Lunestra in the West, both of which are enemies. But unlike Solaria, which is bathed in light, Lunestra is bathed in shadow. I’m told their crops grow only with the help of magic,since sunlight doesn’t touch their lands. Some even say that because the fae of Lunestra consume magic-infused food, they have strange and undocumented power.
The Night Court is a mystery to all, with its borders closed off by a massive veil. The human settlement of Lockhelm dares not roam near. Many people have tried to understand how Lunestra can produce a shield, let alone maintain it consistently.
The amount of power it would require is… mind-boggling. Some rumors claim they make sacrifices to a long-forgotten god, while others claim they traded their magic to a dark spirit.
“Why is King Galen sending you to the borders near Lunestra?” I mutter. It’s a death trap, or a taunt to the Night Court now that we have aligned with the fae of Solaria.
“Because this war is never fucking done,” Ryker grunts, hugging Ember tighter and closing his eyes, as if shielding himself from the fact.
“We’re going to be separated,” Nero mutters.
Ember reaches up and flattens her palm over her heart, where our matching scar is. “We’re always together. Distance is an illusion. This war will end. One day, we will be together again,” she whispers hopefully.
Ember reaches for Nero’s hand, then, like a chain, he grabs Ryker’s. Ryker takes Cyrus, and Cyrus grabs Tristen, waiting for me to take his other hand. I take Tristen, but I hesitate to touch Cyrus.
I may never hold his hand again. So I risk it, and that’s when it happens. I feel the time-weaving magic grab hold of me and everyone in the room. I jolt and gasp, causing all eyes to look at me.
Shit! I’ll have to explain what has happened to me. They’ll be endangered because, like Tristen, they will put their lives on the line to help me.
A bead of sweat runs down my temple; it glides down my cheek at an irritating pace, as I hold my breath and wait.
One blink, then two. A sharp inhale.
I wait for them to realize what has happened. Frantically, I look around, but… it’s just us, alone in the tent.
Oh, I’ve wrapped the entire tent in a bubble! They have no idea that just outside these thin fabric walls—shaking and bouncing from the strong wind tonight—everyone is moving in slow motion.
My lip twitches as I smile; a small amount of the weight on my shoulders lifts. In a way, it’s like I’ve told them.
I look at Tristen. He leans closer to me, his left shoulder blocking some of me from their view. I think he knows what happened, so he coughs and says, “Distance doesn’t matter.”
“Distance doesn’t matter,” I repeat as I close my eyes and listen to them repeat our words.
Chapter
Four
Selene
Is it too much to request a dress from my seamstress that’s voluminous enough to conceal my bow? Perhaps a few spare arrows sewn into the layers of fabric? Someone imaginative enough to make it work must exist, I’m sure.
Damn this gown Galen picked! Yes, it’s lovely, made of the finest red silk that feels incredibly soft against my skin.But honestly, I feel naked.Vulnerable and at Galen’s mercy; that’s what my husband wants me to feel. He wants me to cling to his side for protection.
My curves? They are more on display than Galen’s most prized horses.
I pinch my stomach, feeling the food my maid brought earlier settle. Don’t get me started on the cheese I had with the warm, fresh bread roll. Pieces of the crust are still flaked on my floor.
I stare at my fingers, still pruned from the long bath I took. What a queen I make tonight, bloated and wrinkled like a raisin.
I can host, regardless of the guest. “My looks need not be lethal, only my aim.” Bending down, I gather up the dress, grabthe single arrow I carved, and take gentle care when I tie it to the inside of my thigh. The sharp tip presses into my inner knee.
One single arrow. I’m a fine marksman. Everett taught me, after all.
Don’t think about those memories now. Focus.
