Almost seven feet tall, dressed in their black leather armor and armed to the teeth, four hundred of the biggest, baddest Fae motherfuckers pulled their weapons from their sheaths in unison.
Gravelock’s forces slowed at that shrill screech of steel.
Most attacking forces did.
Most forces had already turned tail and run.
Of course, if I was backed up by four hundred actual warriors slinging actual Valarian steel, I would be slightly more optimistic about our chances of survival right now.
But for now, the enemy’s approach had stopped, their heads swiveling in confusion as an entire fighting force seemingly materialized out of nowhere.
Good. All we had to do was milk this advantage as long as possible. I had to look again, and was doubly impressed by Rooke’s eye for detail. Or maybe it was the magic itself, crafting the illusion, but whatever this was, a little seed of hope bloomed in my chest.
“Remember to keep your head up. And keep that look on your face.” I blew an angry snort of white steam through my nose.Who the fuck was Ryland Storme to tell me what to do on a fucking battlefield?
“What look is that?”
“The one you have right before you tell me you’re going to carve off my balls.Thatone.”
“Oh?” I gave him the face, while—coincidentally—thinking about cutting off his balls, because it got me in the mood.
“Yes, exactly,” he actually looked pleased. “That’s the one. Keep that expression on your face, and we just might make it through this.”
“You aresuchan asshole,” I hissed, sliding him a sideways look. “You know that, right?”
“But I’m your asshole, love, until the end of time,” he winked. “Okay, brace yourself, here they come.”
I finally picked Gravelock out of the throng, half hidden by a living shield of five enormous guards, the bastard barely came up to their shoulders, white hair gleaming against his standard black clothing and overly dramatic flowing cape.
I planted my feet firmly, ignoring the shuddering groan beneath us.
“Gravelock.” My voice was swept away by the howling wind. The storm was at full force now, and with some luck, Gravelock would have a hard time discerning if my army was real or smoke and shadows.
He stepped free of his forces, those very real, very lethal soldiers matching him step for step, deadly magic of all sorts dripping from their hands.
The rest of the army fanned out behind him, five hundred strong, and they must have been continually reinforcing the ice, because there wasn’t a single creak or groan to be heard.
Well, at least I didn’t have to worry about falling through any more.
His gaze skimmed right over me, landing firmly on Ryland—because, sure, look to the male first—a slow, predatory smile creasing his gaunt face.
“It’s been a long time, Storme. To be honest, I figured you’d died in that prison wagon, along with your friend…what was his name? Kronos…something? You’re tougher than you look.”
Beside me, Ryland was a statue, nothing about him moving except for his eyes, pouring out a river of hate.
“I see you’ve finally put the pieces together. Not too bright, but I have to thank you. The girl was the key to making all this happen.” He spread his gloved hands wide, as if he were the conductor of a symphony only he could hear.
“Who would have known you were hiding a Wyrdtracker in your little stable of thieves? A treasure, completely wasted on a nobody piece of shit like you. Of course, I missed her in Blackcastle, but found her again fifty years later. All I had to do was keep my eyes on you and Kronos, I knew she’d turn up, sooner or later.”
His gaze dipped to Ryland’s arm, the one still marked by a thin, black line.
“Or rather, trade the Oracle a secret for a secret. Either way, she was well worth the wait.”
Rage snagged in my chest, like leaves caught in the river’s current, pressure building up slow, ratcheting around my heart until I wondered if the damn thing might burst.
Ryland’s fingers brushed over mine lightly, and I remembered to take a breath as Gravelock’s gaze drifted to me, then the silent, waiting army behind us, the dragon crest on my soldiers’ breastplates, before recognition slowly dawned on his face.
That’s right, asshat, we’ve met before, remember?
