“I’ll have you know being annoying is one of my better qualities,” Rooke’s lips twitched. “Because when Gravelock killed my father, he also stole every piece of information he had collected about the Triune’s possible location. Centuries of notes detailing everywhere he’d searched, every possible hiding place, along with about a hundred family secrets he leveraged against us.” Rooke’s expression darkened.
“After that, it took the desiccated bastard less than fifty years to locate all three pieces, which should have been impossible.”
“Gravelock has the Triune?” I asked, staring at the windows, sleet sliding down them in sheets. “What is he doing with them? Does he plan to take over Valarian? Does he plan to attack?”
“Attack, take over, exterminate every Fae alive. Yes, yes, and yes.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Well, it’s all you’ll get while I’m locked away in here. You want more, hold up your end of the bargain.” I stared uncomprehendingly and he threw up his hands.
“Get me the fucking Triune so I can break his containment ward around the island and kill Gravelock before he manages to unite all three relics. Otherwise, you can kiss your precious kingdom goodbye.” He shot out of his chair. “Do that and I will tell you who killed your soldiers and do we have a deal, commander?”
Oh.Oh.
Reality chiseled its way through my preconceived notions with the precision of a stonemason.
If Rooke was kept prisoner in here, then Gravelock—Lord Butcher—the fucker who tried to purchase Anaria, was who we were at war with. He had killed my soldiers.And Rooke, locked away in this castle, was trying to destroy him.
Your enemy is my enemy.
“Even with the Triune, and I’m not underestimating their power, I’m not, but how can one male—even the Butcher—take down an entire kingdom? Valarian has an army, tens of thousands of soldiers, we have magic wielders with tremendous powers.”
“They have a dragon, Rooke.” Ryland winked at me. “Just trying to help your case.”
“Not helping, Storme. Look, we have the might of an entire army and the magic of the Fae queen. This place has…Grimbeasts and poison berries and a wall of shadows. I’ve seen a whole twenty other people, at most, and one of them was so drunk he could barely stand. Forgive me, but I’m not exactly feeling threatened.”
“Have you ever heard of Bloodsong?” Rooke asked softly, and I stifled my laugh when I realized he was dead serious.
“It’s primeval Fae magic, left over from the Old Gods. You see, commander, down here in the Shadowlands, ancient things still thrive, vile creatures that have been stamped out in the more civilized parts of the world. Skin changers, that sort of thing.”
I could have told him there were plenty of vile creatures everywhere, that sometimes, even the most civilized society kept their own monsters hidden in their shadows, but I leaned forward, curious about what sort of bogeyman the Shadow King had been about to sell his own daughter to.
“A Bloodsinger is a formidable foe,” Rooke murmured, spinning that gold ring in earnest now. “They drain the life force from their victims, growing more powerful with each kill. With every new victim, the wielder becomes stronger, faster, and deadlier.”
“Gravelock is one of these Bloodsinger creatures?”
“He istheBloodsinger. He’s existed longer than both of the kings, longer than anyone else alive, and he’s growing stronger, siphoning off the life force of the Shadowland Fae. Generation after generation, century after century. Once, this was a thriving realm, but you see what it’s become. There are few Fae left, and our magic is all but depleted.”
I couldn’t see how his claim could possibly be true.
That would mean Gravelock—tall, thin, stick up his ass Lord Venmir Gravelock, with his pretentious attitude and his diamond-tipped ears—was over two thousand years old. But…that would explain why the Shadow King deigned to barter with him in the first place, why he had a front row seat at the executions.
This new information was disorienting, my world tilting on its axis as old memories slotted into place, resulting in a new, disturbing conclusion.
Gravelock had been playing the Shadow King, not the other way around.
“He’s planning to unite the artifacts and amplify his power?” I voiced my fears.
If everything Rooke was telling us was true, he would become a god. Worse, perhaps, than even the Old Gods, and with this awful power, magnified by the Triune, far worse than either of the kings. And Anaria…after all her sacrifices, her dream would die.
And the rest of us would die protecting that dream.
Rooke dipped his head. “Gravelock doesn’t need armies or cavalry or a liege of mages; he only needs time to merge his magic with that of the Triune. Once that process is complete, Valarian will fall. Days, maybe a week, and your precious cities will be filled with the husks of your formercitizens, and Gravelock will be stronger than any god this world has ever seen.”
“How do you know he hasn’t merged his magic already?” I asked softly, pushing my now-cold coffee to the side.
“Because he’s missing one very important component.” Rooke’s tongue dragged across his split bottom lip, picking up a trembling garnet drop. “There is a very good reason he’s kept me alive, commander, and it is not for my charming personality and winning smile.” He winked.
