“I have soldiers to check on,” I announced, telling myself I wasnota coward and I wasnotrunning away. “When you have a plan in place, send Simon to the barracks; he can give me the details. I’m assuming we leave at dawn?”
Zephryn’s tight nod was all the confirmation I needed to turn on my heel and put them both to my back, Ryland’s eyes drilling into me the entire time. Once I was far enoughaway from the throne room, I sagged against the nearest wall and dragged a shaking hand down my face.
More than a century ago, these two had gutted me and left an empty husk for the Oracle to fill with her evil and turn into a deadly weapon. She’d twisted me into something ruined and ugly and after all this time, I was finally finding my footing again.
I’d been innocent when I’d last seen them.
I was innocent no longer.
I’d killed and killed and killed for the Shadow King. Done despicable things for the Oracle. There was enough blood on my hands to fill a river. After all these years, I’d assumed Ryland and Varian were dead. Gods knew they deserved to be.
I never thought our paths would cross again.
But now that they had…maybe…maybe this was an opportunity, not a punishment.
I tipped my head back against the cold stone of the Citadelle wall, the flickering torches blurring as I weighed my options. The mission came first. Keeping this realm safe took precedence over my need for vengeance.
After all this time, we knew little of the Shadowlands.
During the reign of the Shadow King, for over ten centuries, the Fae living there were secretive, and very little news got past their borders. After Anaria killed the king and birthed our new world, the Shadowlands were not affected.
Because of the ancient ward separating that godsforsaken place from the rest of Valarian, and try as we might, the magic could not be breached. But they hadn’t been considered a threat, so for the most part, we’d forgotten all about the Shadowlands.
Until a year ago, when a steady flow of whispers andrumors started streaming out of that secretive place, rumors meant to undermine Anaria’s authority.
Myfucking authority.
Since then, I’d kept a close eye on the border, monitoring every piece of information coming from that dark place.
Rumors of an army being amassed, Fae soldiers that didn’t feel pain, possessing foul magicks.
Of a shadowy figure controlling them, poised to invade the southern Havens and from there, cut a swath of destruction straight up to Tempeste.
Over the past year, I had personally traced a handful of small incidents and one assassination attempt back to this dark prince character. After the last report, I’d sent in six of my most loyal Dreadwatch guards to politely—or not—inform the prince his acts were treasonous and would no longer be tolerated.
Seven days ago I’d received their severed heads, dumped at the Tempest gates.
Coincidentally, the same day I received their heads, Torin, our High Seer, had her first vision in a century.
And after spending a century around kings and Oracles, I knew better than to believe in coincidences.
3
LYRAE
One week ago
Nothing to worry about, Raz, my friend.
No need to bother Anaria with trivial matters.
Just the usual Shadowlands bullshit, traced back to this Prince of Nothing. I’ve got everything taken handled and soon enough, we’ll never have to worry about him again.
I cringed, remembering those arrogant assurances, barely a week ago when Raziel had raised his valid concerns. But I’d been so sure there was no real threat.
How very wrong I’d been.
My armor rattled as I paced back and forth, wearing a path in the stone floor of the War Room, wishing I could take back my earlier words. At least the atmosphere in here wasn’t panicked.
