“I’m afraid not, my lady.”
“What are they?” asked Dayn.
“A foul creature.” Prince Torvyn addressed Redvyr. “They are pieces of different fae twisted into one, beget by black magick. But not just anyone could create them. It would need to be a god.”
“Or a demi-god,” added Vallon.
“How do you know this is what they are?” asked Redvyr.
“Murgha,” said Vallon, his voice softening. “She’s a seer.” He held Tessa’s gaze. “A good one.”
Tessa smiled. “I knew she had the gift, though I feared for her. It comes with nightmares.”
“That is for certain.” Vallon faced Redvyr. “We also know these are grimlocks because our scholars have records of a time these creatures crept through our forests and woodlands once before.”
“Tell them all,” commanded Prince Torvyn solemnly. “They need to know, now that the creatures have crossed into their lands.”
“A millennium ago, the god/sun god Solzkin and a shadow fae female had a son, a dark fae sorcerer. He was an abomination — not because of his birth, but because of his obsession with killing and death. He used the magick he’d inherited from hisfather and blood magick to create murderous monsters—the grimlocks. An army of them to do his bidding.”
“Like wights,” interrupted Redvyr. “The armies of dead that wraith fae can summon.”
“Similar,” interjected the prince, his voice hard and somber. “But unlike the wights, which are mindless bones called up from the graves, grimlocks are sentient creatures of the darkest kind.”
“What do they look like?” asked Tessa, her voice shaky.
“They are part dryad, part dark fae, with moon fae wings. They look more like foul sprites except they are as any fae.” Prince Torvyn turned his gaze on me. “Easily big enough to carry off a female and her children.”
“But what do they want with them?” I asked.
“We don’t know,” replied Vallon. “What’s worse is that we don’t know who has brought these creatures back into existence. According to our scholars, they all died with their master, the sorcerer, long ago.”
“But something has brought them back.” Redvyr crossed his arms. “Or someone.”
Prince Torvyn met his gaze with steely resolve. “That’s not all. Before the grimlocks came out of the mountains, there were signs of some kind of sickness, an infection that causes madness.”
Vallon glanced at the prince when he didn’t go on, adding, “We have seen it in some of the animals.” He paused. “And faekind.”
I turned and placed a hand on Redvyr’s forearm. “The dryad stag who attacked me.”
Redvyr nodded. “We have seen this sickness as well.”
“Do you know where this sickness came from?” Bezaliel had his arm around Tessa’s shoulders while she held their infant daughter against her chest.
“No,” said the prince, “but the scent of the grimlocks is similar to those touched with the mad disease. One thing is for certain, the grimlocks serve someone else, and that is who we must find.”
“For now,” Vaygar spoke for the first time, “I’ll settle with finding and killing the grimlocks.” He stepped closer to Vallon. “We should build a pyre for Tylok.”
“We will help you,” Redvyr told them before pulling me to him. “Stay close to Wolf while we build the pyre.”
“Of course.”
His gaze lingered, his brow pinched with concern before he did something unexpected in front of not only his men, but these strangers. He cupped my face and pressed a tender kiss to my mouth. I could do nothing but stare when he drew back, clenching his jaw with a grunt before he turned to join the other males, all of whom had watched—the beast fae with amusement, the shadow fae with surprise and curiosity.
When they marched off into the woods, leaving Tessa and I surrounded and protected by the wolves, my gaze followed the beast fae lord.
“Tessa.”
“Hmm?”
