I identified the patrols—two figures on each edge of the roughly rectangular camp, patrolling in an overlapping pattern. There were only a few fires. Communal meeting places that had probably sprung up naturally. This was roughly the location that the young female elemental had described; which meant they weren’t moving around, at least not anymore. This camp was relatively stable. Small mercies.
But for all of that, the movements of the civilians were erratic. Very few emerged from their makeshift tents and those that did ran from place to place. And I would have recognized the scent that clung to the air, even in my dreams. The succubus had been here, and now they were fuel for those fires.
At least they’d figured something out.
I sucked in a breath—not too deep, or I’d gag—and started down into the camp on foot. A queen coming to her subjects. I hoped they’d have me.
14
GUINEVERE
“Drop your blades.”
A half dozen human women formed an even circle around them. Three on either side of the meager path into Eldermist; they’d closed ranks once Lyrena and Guinevere were directly between them. A half dozen humans against two of the most formidable warriors in Annwyn. If Gwen had still possessed the ability to laugh, even her composure would have cracked at the absurdity of the implied threat.
Lyrena let loose, her back shaking with mirth where it was pressed against Gwen’s. “No, thank you,” she said with mock politeness.
The same woman who’d given the initial command ground her teeth. “That was not a request.”
“And we do not answer to you.” Lyrena lifted her sword in challenge, silently daring them to try to come and take it from her.
This was a different side to the golden knight. The bright smile had always been there, but the sharpness was new.
Gwen was not the only one who had changed these last months.
But they did not have time for trading barbs.
“Stop antagonizing them,” Gwen said over her shoulder, too quietly for the humans to hear.
“You are not my commander,” Lyrena bit back, her voice equally low. “And I will when they lower their weapons.”
Gwen ignored both of those responses, addressing the humans instead. Particularly the one who appeared to be their leader—a tall woman with red-gold hair and a sour face. “We are Goldstone Guards, Knights of the Round Table, sent by Their Majesties Arran Earthborn and Veyka Pendragon, High King and Queen of Annwyn.”
Gwen could sense the ripple of reaction around them. Arran and Veyka had stopped in Eldermist in their quest for Avalon. Gwen herself had sent fae guards to help the village, in Veyka’s name. But they did not know what had happened here in the intervening weeks since Baylaur had fallen. Those promises might mean nothing now.
“Are you infected?” This from a dark-haired woman on Lyrena’s other side.
“You know as well as we do that the succubus only takes males,” Lyrena scoffed.
“It has a name,” their leader breathed.
Lyrena’s head snapped in her direction. “Even the evilest things do.”
Gwen empathized with the women, their eyes darting between one another. She’d felt much the same when Veyka opened the portal rift from Baylaur to Eilean Gayl. So much information, so fast, could be nothing but disorienting. Especially when they were already living under conditions of stress. This would be the moment to disarm them. She could feel Lyrena tensing, her assessments the same. But physically overpowering the humans was not the goal. They needed their cooperation.
“We seek council with Sylva and the Council of Elders for the village of Eldermist,” Gwen said, hoping the old woman was still alive.
Silence echoed around them, off the mountains and down into the valley below.
“Most of the Council of Elders are dead. Taken by the succubus, as you call them. And put down by the guards your queen sent,” the leader finally said. She struggled to control the emotion in her voice; Gwen did not have to be an elemental to realize it. And where once she would have remained impartial, her heart twisted.
“But the village stands. Your children and families are safe.” Gwen did not let herself intone it as a question.
“What remains of it after the earthquake,” came the hollow answer. “Our womenfolk survive. At least, those that did not refuse to be separated from their husbands and sons.”
Gwen felt Lyrena tense against her. Elemental though she was, her laughing façade always in place, even she was not immune to tragedy. Gwen wished that was a comfort. Instead, it made her wary. She could not trust herself anymore. She needed Lyrena to be steady.
“We are peaceful envoys,” Lyrena said before she could. Something like relief eased the tension in Gwen’s stomach.
