Thorne palmed a throwing knife, arm cocked back.
“Your Highness,” Callan called out, his eyes glittering as he took me in. “Here you are at last.”
I glanced at Rydian. His expression didn’t change, but the temperature around us did. Even the mist seemed to pause as the prince’s shadows became nearly solid between us and the Autumn king.
“At my brother’sside, no less,” Callan added, tossing a fleetingly charming smile at Rydian. The expression dripped with a hollow disdain.
My heart thudded.
So much for the easy part.
Chapter Twenty
Aurelia
The Autumn king stood before us, looking like nothing more than a rumpled courtier—crownless, sleepless if the dark circles around his eyes were any indication, the green of his wrinkled coat dulled to the color of moss after rain. His golden eyes caught the first light like blades, bright and too sharp for a casual meeting.
He looked desperate, though I wasn’t sure what for.
The Withered rebels remained still at the sight of him, which meant they’d known he was here. Maybe even let him follow them all the way from Grey Oak. I could only assume it was for good reason.
Around us, the autumnal air moved like a slow breath. Mist curling between the trees, the scent of river water and wet earth thick in my nose. Rydian’s shadows coiled like smoke around our feet, restless and on guard. Even Daegel’s shadow shield seemed thicker than usual.
If Callan was concerned about standing between two groups of fae who wouldn’t bat an eye at royal bloodshed, he didn’t show it. Then again, between us, I was the wantedcriminal. And currently standing on the soil I’d been forbidden to revisit on the threat of death.
Keres stepped up to my other side, sword drawn. “Tell me that’s not who I think it is.”
“Unfortunately,” I murmured. “It is.”
Callan’s gaze swept over the group, lingering on each of them like he was cataloguing their usefulness. Then he stopped on me, and the mocking calm in his eyes flickered—just once.
In that glimpse, I saw pain. And fear. Then the cool mask returned.
“So, the rumors are true,” he said. “The traitor has begun gathering her army.”
Keres snarled at the sarcasm in his tone.
“I believe Keres here needs someone to do her laundry if you’re feeling left out and want to join,” I said.
Callan’s gaze flicked to Keres. “A new addition to the cadre, brother?” he drawled. “This one looks like she’s been in a skirmish or two already.”
Keres didn’t blink. “Draw your sword,” she said, voice flat as a whetstone, “and I’ll show you how it went for the other party.”
Callan’s smile sharpened. “Another time, perhaps.”
Rydian’s tone was flat. “What do you want, Callan?”
Finally, Callan’s gaze snicked to his brother. “I was going to ask you the same question. You’re standing on Autumn soil after I explicitly told you never to return. And your companion”—his eyes found me again—“is wanted for high treason and regicide. Hardly a smart choice to wash up on these shores.”
“Then arrest me,” I said.
His smirk deepened. “Restraints. Tempting offer.”
Rydian snarled.
Keres took a small step forward.
Callan lifted a gloved hand. “For the moment, I’d rather talk. In private. My tent is just there.”
