Rescue me, I beg of you.
She held back a laugh.I will return to you soon.
If you have not returned by sundown, I will steal you away again.
The dark promise sent a delightful tingle down her spine.
As Rune’s consciousness slipped away, Alora turned to Caelum. “Commander, inform Lord Tallin and Lord Graye that if they don’t present themselves at court today, I will have them hanged for treason.”
Caelum struck a fist to his armored chest and bowed his head. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
To Lord Zuma, she said, “Continue overseeing the smithing of Nightstone, and see the shields are inlaid with Moonstone. Whatever comes, we must be prepared.” Alora looked up at the castle and said in a softer voice. “Six days remain until the Blood Moon.”
Then she left the smithery with Calla. The evening air was crisp and cool, autumn winds stirring the open courtyard as they took the covered cloister toward the castle.
“Are the preparations finished?” Alora asked.
Calla hummed softly, turning her Bloodstone ring with absent thought as she lingered in the shadowed edge of the courtyard. “Yes. You may move the Crown Prince tonight, along with those too weak to fight. They will be safe. No demon shall reach them.”
Some of the pressure eased from Alora’s chest.
She had asked Karag Dûr to prepare a wing deep in the southernmost part of the mountain, a place well-warded and buried in layers of stone and spell. It was warded with Night Ash and Moonstone to keep out demons. It included a hidden tunnel designed to only open beneath Rihan’s palm.
It would serve as an escape route should the worst come to pass and they fall.
She clung to the hope that Rihan could slip away into the southern lands with what remained of their people. That was, of course, assuming the enchanted dome enclosing the kingdom collapsed once Vorak was freed.
When war arrived, Rihan wouldn’t be safe here or in the Midlands. Taking him to the mountain was a last resort. Nexus and his personal Royal Guard kept him under watch day and night.
He was Argyle’s future.
“By the Seven, this has to work.” Alora pressed her hands to her face, weariness pooling behind her eyes.
“Have you slept at all?” Calla asked, tilting her head. “You look a breath away from falling over.” She scowled, but it was fond. “Tell his sire to let you rest.”
Alora gave a faint laugh, dry and brittle. She hadn’t told anyone that Vorak was stalking her dreams. That every time she closed her eyes, he was there, waiting.
“I can hardly rest with the weight of what’s coming,” she murmured, rubbing at her brow. “I’ve half a mind to return to Khar Avalen and consult the Scry Mirror.”
Calla stilled. “The Scry Mirror?”
“It reveals your heart’s desire,” Alora said, almost to herself. “I looked into it once. Back when all I wanted was to remember who I was. Now...” She exhaled slowly. “Now I’d ask it how to survive this war. Even if the answer lies in summoning the Abyss.”
Calla’s gaze sharpened. “Did you both gaze into the mirror?”
“We did…” Alora paused, catching her careful expression.
“What did Rune see?”
The question made her pause. She blinked, surprised. “He didn’t say. Why?”
Calla glanced toward the mountain’s jagged outline. “The mirror itself is not bound to Vorak. It was forged before the FirstAge, crafted from stone deep within the earth. Some say the ore came from the Abyss. It responds towilland reveals your greatest desire. But only by what must belostorenduredto attain that desire.”
Alora absorbed that in silence, unease stirring in her gut.
Before she could speak, a new voice interrupted.
“Quite a powerful relic, then.”
