“Then you know claiming rule in Faerwyvae will officially break the treaty, right?”
I square my shoulders. “I’m ready to break it.”
Her eyes widen, lips pulling into a sad smile.
“However, the bargain I made with King Ustrin keeps war at bay for now,” I say. “A fight between the fae council and the rebels will come to pass, but in the meantime, they can do nothing. I think we should use this time to come up with a solid plan.”
“Let’s do this,” she says with a nod. “Have you told Queen Nyxia?”
“No, but I need to speak with her. I want to meet with the fire fae tonight.”
She’s already moving to the door. “Then let’s find her.”
We head toward the throne room, plans and ideas buzzing through my head. One question plagues me again and again. I turn to Lorelei. “When I do face King Ustrin, must I make a formal challenge for the throne like Aspen did with Cobalt?”
She shakes her head. “No, those formalities were created by the Council of Eleven Courts. Once the treaty is broken, the rules of the council need no longer apply. With the rebels already claiming a return to the Old Ways, it will be in accordance with the Twelfth Court that you will face him.”
“How does it work, exactly?”
She shrugs. “You need to prove you are the alpha blessed by the All of All.”
“You say it like it’s simple, but I don’t understand how that comes to be. Do I engage him in physical combat? Will it be a fight to the death?” My stomach turns at the thought. There’s no way I can beat King Ustrin in physical combat. If only I had an iron blade...
“It’s impossible to know ahead of time,” Lorelei says. “Sometimes it’s simply a matter of facing each other in the Twelfth Court, like you did as Aspen’s champion. The win may still be shown with a token, like the crown you were given. Other times it’s won by submission to the alpha, like with Nyxia and her mother. But yes, there are times when only death can decide the victor. In those cases, the All of All gives their champion strength.”
My heart races. It sounds impossible no matter how she puts it. Luckily, my bargain with King Ustrin will give me enough time to prepare.
We are almost at the doors to the throne room when the sound of commotion draws my attention.
Lorelei and I exchange a glance before we take off down the corridor toward the noise. Once we reach the entry hall to the palace, we find dozens of bedraggled fae streaming inside, two of which are Foxglove and Franco. Lorelei runs to Foxglove while Franco offers me a tired wink. Both seem flustered but none the worse for wear. The fae surrounding them, however, look as if they just returned from battle. Their clothing is stained and torn. Those who have hair wear it disheveled, and those with fur appear matted. My heart leaps in my throat when I recognize a figure.
“Gildmar!”
The old fae’s bark-like face stretches into a relieved grin as I approach her. “You’re here,” she says.
“Yes, but what areyoudoing here?”
She extends her arms toward her fellows. “We are who remain of King Aspen’s most loyal household. Not everyone chose to come.” Her lips twitch into a frown. “And not all made the escape.”
My heart sinks at that. I return my attention to the fae continuing to file inside, finding another familiar face—one of Aspen’s handsome servants, Vane. The next figure is even more surprising.
Marie Coleman meets my eyes, face crumpling as she rushes to me. The girl wraps her arms around my waist and sobs into my shoulder.
I almost forget how to move. What in the name of iron is Maddie Coleman’s little sister doing here?
“Oh, Evelyn, I can’t believe I made it. I thought I was going to die.”
I’m torn between surprise and utter confusion, flustered at how she says my name with such care. We never were friends before. The most familiarity we ever exchanged was when she wordlessly pleaded with me in Mayor Coleman’s parlor. My mouth goes dry, remembering her tears of distress, how her eyes begged me to help her.
I thought I was powerless then.
My arms return the embrace, even though my mind still whirls to comprehend what is happening. She heaves a heavier sob as she pulls away from me, her attention snagging on something she sees over my shoulder.
“Aspen!” Marie runs to my shocked mate, his eyes taking in the swarm of fae and the girl who clings around his waist. He takes a tentative hand and pats her heaving shoulders.
A flicker of jealousy flutters through me, but it dries before it can ignite into something more. There isn’t anything sensual in their embrace. The way Marie holds onto Aspen isn’t like a lover but a friend. And his consoling touch is more fatherly than anything, although he seems hesitant to give it.
Marie seems to compose herself, pulling away and wiping the tears from her ruddy cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Your Majesty, Miss Fairfield.” She gives us each a trembling curtsy. “That was very unbecoming of me. You just have no idea how relieved I am to be here.”
