It’s strange having that awareness back. Every few minutes I find myself reaching along those threads to confirm they’re still there, and check if any more are forming. It remains just the twoof them, but they’re growing stronger by the hour.
The fae who can walk gather near the gate in the groups Vel organized. The ones who can’t walk at all are loaded onto carts, arranged among supplies and handled more gently than they’ve been handled their entire time in the cages.
Caelum is on the third cart, tucked between sacks of grain with blankets cushioning his body. His eyes are still fixed on nothing, but when I check on him, his fingers twitch against mine.
“Still fighting. Good.”
I move to Serath. When I approach, her head turns toward me. Yesterday, she sat with her face tilted toward the sky, tears running down her cheeks. Today, her eyes are dry, and while her eyes aren’t alert, they’re aware.
“Serath.”
“North.” Her voice is soft. “Trees.”
“Yes. We’re leaving soon.”
She nods once, and turns to face forward again. Her hands rest in her lap, fingers still instead of clenching. She might not be humming, but she’s clawing her way back.
The sun begins its descent, shadows lengthening across the courtyard. I find Therin at the front of the line, checking the horses one final time.
“Ready,” he says before I can ask. “Everyone is accounted for, supplies are loaded. Carts are hitched.”
I look at the line stretching back toward the lodge. Fifty fae. Broken, damaged, barely holding it together. Fewer than we started with this morning. But alive.
“Move out.”
TWENTY-ONE
ALLERIA
I’m standingat the window of my bedroom, watching servants cross the courtyard below, when a wave of sadness hits me. One moment I’m fine … or as fine as I’ve been since I came back … and the next, I want to cry.
There’s no reason for it, nothing I can point to and saythis is why I feel this way. But my eyes are burning, my throat has closed up, and there’s that weird achy feeling that comes before tears.
Nella looks up from where she’s rearranging my closet. “Are you all right?”
“Fine.” The word comes out thick. I clear my throat.
She studies me for a moment, then goes back to her work. She’s been doing that a lot since I came back. Watching me when she thinks I won’t notice. I wonder what she’s looking for.
The grief ebbs and flows throughout lunch. Sometimes it’s so strong, it steals my breath. Other times it’s nothing more than a small ache around my heart. And no matter what I try to do—going for a walk in the gardens, looking through books in the library, wandering through the gallery where artwork covers the walls—it won’t leave me.
When a page finds me in the gallery, I’m grateful for the interruption.
“The king requests your presence immediately, my lady.”
“What for?”
“I don’t know, Princess. Only that all council members have been summoned.”
I’mnota council member, which means whatever they’re meeting to discuss has something to do with me. I trade glances with Nella, who looks worried, then smooth down my skirts and follow the page.
The council chamber is already full when I arrive. My father sits at the head of a long table, his face carved from stone. Merina is at his right hand, her fingers laced together on the tabletop. Lords and advisors fill the remaining seats.
The air is thick with tension.
What has happened? Why was my presence requested?
As the younger daughter, I have no need to be at meetings. My sister’s presence makes more sense. She has been frequenting council meetings more and more as my father trains her to take his place as queen someday.
