“Three years ago, the Shadowlands were not affected by the rebirth of the Fae magic.” I watched a shadow of fear creep over Anaria’s face. “We’ve been keeping a close eye on the borders, monitoring the ward, sending patrols down periodically to make sure nothing changed…then two years ago…there was a…shift.”
The breath I took was neither calming nor steady. “There has been a steady flow of whispers coming out of the Shadowlands. Talk of an army of unbeatable Fae soldiers, of some Dark Prince character, of foul magic growing stronger. At first, we discounted the rumors assuperstition, then there were a handful of incidents along the border. Disappearances, one tavern burned, a pasture of dead cows.” I met my queen’s withering stare. “Bled to death, as it turned out.”
“Interesting facts,” Anaria snapped tartly. “Yet I knew none of this.”
“If I informed you of every tavern that burned or barroom scuffle, we’d spend our lives in meetings,” I tossed back, since she was so godsdamned insistent on not being treated like a queen.
“But after the cow incident about two weeks ago…I sent in a scouting party. Six of my best Dreadwatch soldiers, highly trained, led by a tracker I trusted. They were all battle hardened, heavily armed, and went in there expecting trouble.”
“And…?” Anaria prompted, and I swallowed past the knot still lodged in my throat.
“I received their heads back this morning. Dropped at the front gates in a burlap bag. No one—not even the guards on duty—saw who left it, which meant they used magic to get past our own wards.”
Everyone in the room was staring at me now, their expression pitying, except for Anaria, who looked like she might want my head, too.
“The heads of every guard were in there. All six of them. They’d only been dead for a day at most, so they must have gotten past the wards, and inside, but other than that…I can only assume they went up against this prince character and lost.”
“On the same day Torin has her vision,” a pale Anaria pointed out, and I nodded.
“Truthfully, we know little of the Shadowlands.” I clasped my hands behind my back. “Their borders are guarded by powerful magic, their shores by cliffs twohundred feet high. The Fae there have always been secretive, and there has never been a named ruler, except for now.”
“Bastard actually calls himself the Prince of Darkness.” Zephryn rumbled, Anaria’s head swiveling in his direction and my mouth dried up as the reality of our situation hit me like an avalanche.
This was really happening.
Torin’s visions were never wrong, which meant we could be on the verge of another long, bloody war. This prince could be a viable threat, and if blood magic was involved, then gods help us all.
“I thought you were joking. He really calls himself that?” Anaria asked sharply. “And why the fuck am I just now finding out about this?”
“Because you’ve been busy rebuilding a kingdom, and up until now, the Shadowlands is nothing but a pimple on the arse of the world.” I soothed, sliding into the chair beside Anaria.
“You trusted me to guard our borders, and I have been keeping an eye on this situation for months now. Outside of spreading rumors and stirring up trouble along his borders, this prince is probably a nobody with delusions of grandeur. And princes can be killed. I say we go in and eliminate the threat. Simple as that.”
“What did you have in mind?” Raz asked sharply. “Someone infiltrates the Shadowlands and assassinates the prince himself?”
“It’s worked before.” I shrugged, facing a now-silent room. All of us remembered how we’d overthrown the Shadow King and brought an entire realm to its knees. Yes, we’d nearly failed.
Yet here we all were, alive to tell the tale.
“Let me take a battalion of my men and eradicate this prince before he has a chance to fortify his position in the south. I say, given Torin’s vision, we don’t waste any time.”
I wanted blood, bad enough to taste it. My soldiers had gone in with much the same confidence, and their heads had been left outside the Citadelle’s front gates.
They deserved to be avenged, and I meant to make justice swift and sure.
“There was something else about my vision. I could not see clearly, but I kept coming back to the number three.” Torin sighed, rubbing the deep circles beneath her eyes. “I will try again tonight, see if I can recall anything else, but the number three…that has to be a clue.”
“I’m leaving now for a flyover.” Zephryn shoved to his feet, peeling off his jacket. “Tristan, you’re coming with me; we’ll return by nightfall with a report. There’s no sense in getting worked up until we know for sure there’s a viable threat.”
4
LYRAE
Viable threatwas an understatement.
“The border’s guarded by a cloud of black magic. The entire realm is so desiccated and barren we couldn’t see much on the ground except sand and shadow.”
Torin held Zephryn’s shirt as he shrugged it over his massive shoulders, sweat plastering his dark hair to his face. “I choked on the foulness of corrupted magic from a thousand feet above, smelled like the bowels of the whole fucking world had opened up.”
