Not Veyka, but another female voice. And it was not coming from outside the tent, but within. From where Veyka had tossed her clothing over the camp chair in the corner before coming to bed. I followed the faint white light, my heart stuttering and tripping over itself while I dug through the folds of her gown to find the communication crystal.
It shined brightly in my hand, the glowing white length pulsing with magic.
I lifted it closer to my face. “Have you found it?”
Several beats of silence. “Yes.”
The world stopped.
The human realm, Annwyn, the Split Sea, any others that existed. Everything stopped. The only thing that mattered was that one word, this one moment in time, this one answer.
My entire chest filled with light. Bright, moon-white hope.
The bedsheets rustled behind me, the wooden platform groaning. I turned, lifting my palm so that the white glow of the communication crystal shone into the space between us. Veyka sat in the bed, the lines of her dimples and rolls of soft skin silhouetted by that pale glow.
“Yes,” Cyara said again. “I have the grail.”
I looked to Veyka, expecting her to say something. But she shook her head.
She had no words. But I could speak for us both. In the moments before we’d fallen asleep, she’d whispered what Mya had confided in her. “We are going to Avalon.”
63
GUINEVERE
Wraithwood, Emberhaven, Thornbriar, and Ferndale.Gwen recited the names as she walked through the village of Eldermist, now completely overrun by a mix of human residents, visitors, fae refugees, and elemental soldiers. They mostly kept to their own camps. Mostly.
Some mingling was inevitable as supplies were collected and distributed.
Gwen’s own mixed company battalion was in charge of that task. They could at least stand one another after a couple of weeks training together.
Tonight she owed her report back to Arran. Which meant that today, she had to secure an alliance worth reporting. Or rather, four of them. Her eyes twitched as she walked, the slight burn of a sleepless night beginning. But sleep would have to wait. She’d spent the entire night in conference with Sylva, planning.
Veyka and Arran had given her what amorite they could spare and leeway to negotiate. Sylva had armed her with information.
Helene of Thornbriar wanted amorite.
She found the woman in the village square, negotiating at the command stall for rations of sugar in exchange for salted beef.
Gwen waited until the conversation finished, noting the woman’s stance and tone. She was tall for a human woman and rail thin. Her once blonde hair was liberally sprinkled with gray that lent a certain gravitas, but it was the sharp hawk nose in the dead center of her face that drew the eye.
“What do you want?” Helene asked, not bothering to lower her voice despite the prevalence of pointed fae ears in every direction. At least the woman in the command stall was already busy with her next visitor.
Gwen kept her own voice pitched low, so that only Helene would hear it. If Helene required no pleasantries, then neither did she.
“I cannot arm all of your soldiers. But I can spare four amorite weapons—enough for your lieutenants.” Gwen used the term loosely, as the human fighting force had no formal structure. “And one amorite stud—for your son.”
That was the true price of her alliance, Sylva had guessed.
The woman’s eyes blew wide, the whites showing all the way around dark brown irises. Gwen did not flinch. Once, she might have worried about the appearance of favoritism. But this war would be over before each of the human leaders stopped arguing long enough to compare the price of their allegiance.
Helene swayed—like she might fall over with a gust of wind. The end of her hawk-nose twitched as she considered, but Gwen could taste victory. She reached into her pocket, the amorite already at hand, and pressed it into the woman’s palm.
“Yes?”
Her hand closed around the amorite stud. “Yes.”
“I will inspect your forces tomorrow morning.” Gwen turned and walked away before the woman could argue or attempt to add any caveats to her cooperation. Her last target had not lefthis room on the upper floor of Sylva’s house, though there had been a steady stream of visitors who he welcomed behind his closed door.
