A chill seeped in so deep I felt it in my marrow.
I blinked at him. Then Tarrin. Then Thaddeus. A cold, calculating mask was all that met me.
I swallowed, holding Thaddeus’ gaze. “You can’t be serious?”
But he was. His expression didn’t relent, and it was the first time I’d truly witnessed King Thaddeus Artemis Alton the Third, the immortal ruler of the human realm. The monarch willing to do anything to protect his people, his future family.
“You’re talking about genocide,” I whispered in shock, feeling utter disbelief.
“Don’t think for a second they wouldn’t do the same thing to us, given the chance, Nyleeria,” Thaddeus said, his tone even, eyes cold.
There was no room for discussion.
It had made me sick to consider Amos wielding me against my own people, but this—how was it any different? In an instant, that armor of determination, of resolve, felt like a prison. Was I truly willing to doanythingto get my siblings back? To help protect the human realm? After what they’d seen, what had happened to the king’s family—gods, what happened to mine—I understood why they thought this was the only way. Maybe they were right; I’d witnessed fae cruelty firsthand—as had my parents.
This wasn’t getting resolved today.
Either way, I still needed to gain control of the spark, and until the mythical object was obtained, it was all conjecture. It was possible that neither I nor the object were as powerful as lore dictated. Stars above, I prayed the power within me wasn’t capable of such things.
I took a deep breath, willing calm into my veins. “So, we look for the object, train, and pray to the Mother that things stay status quo until we find it?”
“That about sums it up,” Tarrin said, slicing through the tension.
“And you have nothing else to share with me?” I asked, hoping for ano—I wasn’t sure I could handle any more surprises.
Tarrin chuckled. “We uncovered a possible plot to eliminate the human race as we know it, found and stole a tome and a map while you tumbled through space for two days, and you’re asking us if that’s it?”
Thaddeus’ intensity seemed to melt away as he said, “What Tarrin is trying to say is, no. Nothing of consequence, anyway.”
“You’re sure?”
He stepped forward and collected my hands into his. “Yes, I’m sure.”
I sighed, and he pulled me into a hug, placing a kiss atop my head.
Drawing back, I looked up at him. “May I see it, the map?”
Thaddeus released me and I followed him as he walked over to the ornate desk where the map had been laid out. Its parchment looked frail enough that I was afraid to touch it, and the familiar scent of the Summer Court, of Caius, wafted up from it, sending a pang through me. Could the high lord truly be an enemy? I supposed it was better to err on the side of caution. But wouldn’t allies be beneficial if war came?
The map was laden with faint outlines and script, as well as newer marks—perhaps the possible locations of the magical object. I leaned in to get a closer look. The shapes were familiar—too familiar to be a rendition of the fae realm—but there, in tiny letters, were the names of the seasonal courts themselves.
I looked to Thaddeus, confused. “I don’t understand.”
“Neither did we. I had my cartographer review it, and here’s what he came up with—his explanation for how it all comes together.” Thaddeus made the ancient page disappear, then rolled out the newly minted map where the other had been.
Studying the map, I noticed it bore a striking resemblance to the ancient one, though this was decidedly easier to decipher. Yet, there was something new—a layer bordering the entire land mass had been added. My brows furrowed in concentration, slowly piecing it together. It was as if the human realm wrapped around the fae territories, reminiscent of how the courts had encircled the Celestial Court in Thaddeus’ vision.
“How is this possible?” I finally asked, tracing the new lines.
In response, Thaddeus lightly touched the map, and a glow emanated from beneath his fingers, transforming it into the familiar geography I’d known since childhood. His palms faced one another as if holding a sphere, and then slowly pulled apart. The parchment shimmered and transformed; the very fabric of the map responded, stretching and distending. The heart of the land now lay vacant, likea pupil into an iris. The landmarks were where they belonged, but now the Nettorian Mountain Range was split by emptiness. The mountains I grew up in were still nestled in the northwest quadrant, while the other half were down in the southeast portion of the map.
Thaddeus let the rest of the map fill in, and I understood.
“It… They…” I couldn’t find words.
I continued to look at this new map, absorbing what it implied. “But there’s no land between those mountain ranges. I grew up in them. All the peaks…the peaks in this map”—I pointed to the separated mountain range—“there’s no land between them.”
“I know,” Thaddeus said soothingly as he squeezed my shoulder.
