“Your Highness!” Lady Deirdre rushes forward. “Thank the gods.”
Siofra stumbles from a nearby building, clutching her newborn against her chest. Darstan runs to meet her, wrapping them both in his arms. The baby wails and something in my chest warms at the sound.
Svenn lowers me gently to my feet.
Coral barrelsthrough the crowd like an overexcited hound, nearly knocking me over. The wyvern nuzzles my face, whimpering with relief.
I look at Svenn. “She’s safe.”
He nods.
I’m counting survivors when hoofbeats shatter the moment.
A Noctral materializes at the edge of the crowd. The creature’s fur is streaked with soot, its eyes wide and wild. These horses can travel anywhere before sunset, but this one looks like it ran through fire to get here.
The rider slides off and immediately collapses. I see the extent of his burns. His clothes are charred, his armor half-melted, and his face blistered.
“Your Highness,” he gasps, trying to kneel but failing. “Message from the capital...”
He falls forward.
I’m at his side in an instant, hands already glowing with healing light. Lady Deirdre kneels across from me, adding herAnastarros blessing to mine. The scout screams as our power touches his burns, but the blisters begin to fade.
“What’s the message?” Rainer demands when I can’t find my voice.
The scout looks up. His eyes are hollow with horrors witnessed. “The western regions have fallen. The fae came with wyverns. A hundred of them, maybe more. They’re burning everything.”
The celebration on the cliffs hasn’t stopped but I can’t hear it anymore. All I can hear is the beating of my heart and the echo of the scout’s words.
We saved Völundr from the sea.
But the realm is burning from the sky.
“Your Highness,” the scout continues, each word clearly agony through his burned throat. “The capital... the capital is under siege.”
I stare past him, numb with grief and dread. I look out at my saved city, at the people celebrating their survival, at Kahedin’s ships now sailing into our protected harbor.
Then I look west, where smoke is beginning to darken the horizon.
The real war has begun.
21
Chapter 20 Rhianelle
"The capital is under siege?" The words feel unreal in my mouth.
The burned scout nods, wincing with each movement. "The Herald of the Wild Hunt himself leads them."
I stare at him blankly. This can't be happening. Not now. Not when we've barely survived the sea.
"Your Highness," the scout continues, his voice cracking. "The council begs for your return. They say without their queen, the capital will fall."
I'm still on my knees, drained from summoning Nimue. My hands won't stop shaking, but there's no time for weakness.
"We have to go." I struggle to stand, my legs threatening to buckle. "Now."
"You can barely move," Svenn protests, catching my elbow to steady me. His hands are cold against my arms. I can feel the tremor in them. Three days of fighting the seadragon and keeping Coinneach manifested to protect the harbor. He's as exhausted as I am but he won't say it.
