Murder flashed in Arran’s dark eyes. Then he was gone—shifting into his massive beast, bounding off between the squat buildings. Gwen tracked his flight by the sound of startled human screams.
Veyka’s eyes went distant. Just like Gwen could not hear Arran’s growl, she could not hear the words that passed silently between the queen and her mate. But she knew an argument was raging, and she knew it was about her.
She also knew the moment it ended.
Veyka’s hands dropped away from her daggers, flexed and then relaxed at her sides.
“You have our permission,” Veyka said. “But you will keep the communication crystal to hand. We will not lose contact this time.”
Reasonable. “I will not let you down again.”Ancestors, let it be true, Gwen prayed.
Veyka’s bright blue eyes sharpened, and then she was moving into the space Arran had vacated, closer to Gwen than was reasonable or comfortable. “If that was what I meant, I’d have said it.”
Never, not once, had Gwen felt intimidated by Veyka Pendragon. But the power that swirled in her eyes, that pouredout of her without even trying… it took all of Gwen’s fortitude to hold her ground. Not to step back, to put space between them.
Veyka trapped Gwen’s gaze with her own. “This is an act of penance.” A statement of truth, not a question. “You blame yourself for Parys’ death.”
Gwen could barely breathe.
Was the death blow coming now?
Part of her had been expecting it since the moment she’d told her of Parys’ death. It was her fault. The queen deserved vengeance. If relegating her to stay with the humans was not enough, if she judged the only fair recompense to be Gwen’s life, then she would not argue. She would accept her punishment.
“It was my fault,” Gwen said, every sound painful as it scraped out of her throat by way of her heart.
“That is a lie,” Veyka snarled. “I know, because I have told them to myself a thousand times. More, maybe. Arthur was murdered to put me on the throne. Arran nearly died because of my hubris. The succubus gained entry to my kingdom, ravaged innocents, because of my power.”
Veyka was not keeping her voice low. Everyone—human and fae—within two blocks must have heard every word. But the queen was incandescent as she stormed on.
“But they are all fucking lies, Guinevere. Igraine did this. And Gorlois. And the succubus themselves. They are evil, all of them. And their greatest crime of all is that they convinced us we were to blame. If we believe that lie, we are paralyzed. We are unable to fight. We are powerless.”
Veyka’s chest rose and fell rapidly, unshed tears of emotion glistening in her eyes. There was no mistaking them at this distance. Gwen exhaled a painfully shaky breath. Veyka could not help but feel it on her skin.
All at once, she seemed to realize how close she’d gotten. She took several steps back until she was nearly on the other sideof the square. Gwen watched as Veyka’s eyes tracked around the perimeter, noting their observers. But she did not lower her voice when she spoke again.
“The choice is yours, Gwen,” Veyka said, her breaths still heavy. “But I will never be powerless again.”
15
ARRAN
Our war council had outgrown the quarters at Eilean Gayl. The Great Hall might have accommodated us, but the fear in the humans’ eyes when Veyka had opened the rift in Eldermist was enough to convince us none of them would be willing to come through it. Even with the concessions we made—no weapons, convening in their realm—only the elderly female Sylva deigned to join us.
We were up on the hill above the village, where we’d first come through the rift after leaving Baylaur all of those months ago. I could not see them at this distance, even with the benefit of my sharpened fae eyesight, but I could feel the human eyes upon us.
Gwen had given them fae warriors for protection. Their Council of Elders had agreed to give refuge to the civilians from Baylaur. Maybe they would see this as an act of good faith; maybe they would be willing to fight—and die—alongside us.
Veyka brought everyone through in groups of two. I did not question why she did not open a portal rift. Even after a full night of sleep, there were lines around her eyes. She was not just jumping between realms, but across the continent as well. Inoted the wonder in the eyes of those who’d never experienced it before—Barkke, Elora, my father. Others, like Percival, Cyara, and Osheen, landed on their feet, their teeth gritted against the wave of nausea. As Gwen, Lyrena, and Sylva climbed the hill from the village, Veyka stepped in front of the massive standing stone.
I saw the monolith now for what it was—an ancient marker left by the Ancestors. The carvings were not identical, but there could be no mistaking the placement. It marked a rift—and the rifts led to other realms. To the succubus. It was a warning, just like the ring of them on Accolon’s island.
It framed Veyka—a makeshift throne, a symbol of her interminable power. I stepped into my place at her side.
My father and Barkke talked quietly. Elora’s eyes darted around, one hand on the hilt of her blade. Cyara stood at the edge of the hill, gazing down at the village.
“What happened to the buildings?” Cyara asked softly.
“The earthquake brought down nearly a quarter of the village,” Sylva said as she gained the hill. Despite her age, she was a step ahead of Gwen and Lyrena. This terrain was her home, and she climbed it like she knew every rock and ditch.
