The guards don’t shift.
“We do not answer to you,” the captain says.
Farron opens his mouth, closes it.
“Do something, Farron,” I whisper. “You’re their High Prince.”
He swallows, straightens, clears his throat, says nothing.
Keldarion growls, “If you traitorous lot do not answer to your High Prince, then who do you answer to?”
“They answer to me.”
My lips part as a fae woman walks through the line of soldiers. She stands tall in an elegant dress, her long dark hair flecked with strands of silver and braided down her back.
The guards bow their heads and the captain mutters, “Princess.”
But Farron gapes at her, his face shattered with pain as he whispers, “Mother?”
32
Farron
Sothisishowthe High Prince of Autumn returns to his realm. In chains.
I pull against my bonds despite knowing they’re unbreakable. The metal was mined from Spring, received in exchange for our bountiful lumber, and then forged in fire milked from the dragonmouth plant. I doubt even Keldarion could find a way out of this steel.
We are marched through Keep Oakheart and into the war room, then forced upon our knees, hands cuffed behind our backs. Our chains are connected, binding us in a row: me, Kel, Ez, Dayton, Rosalina, George, Astrid, and Marigold. Dom and Billy hover nervously nearby, not happy with the situation but unwilling to stand against our mother.
Perhaps cowardice runs in the family.
I’ve hardly been in the war council room, even after I took the mantle of High Prince. It’s an imposing chamber, the furniture all built of dark, polished wood. Ornate tapestries hang by the enormous windows, depicting scenes of great battles fought on the back of the legendary Storm Rams, a mystical vanguard that was said to have long disappeared into the Emberwood.
I take a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart. Looking over, I see Dayton’s piercing blue eyes. His face is twisted in worry. “You’re okay, Fare,” he whispers.
I have to be. If the wolf gets the best of me here, in a room with those I love most…
The bargain.The thought sends a searing pain through my neck. Caspian has sworn his magic can control my beast.I can’t believe I’ve resorted to trusting the star-damned Prince of Thorns.
I breathe in shakily and survey my friends. Kel somehow manages to look imposing, even on his knees. He stares up, ice chip eyes unblinking, mouth so natural in a frown. Ezryn’s still, save his hands. He’s pulled off his gloves and is slowly running his fingers over what metal he can touch. Does he recognize this steel?
Dayton starts yanking on his chains. “You should know better than to contain me, Niamh,” he snarls, using my mother’s first name.
“Dayton,” I warn.
But my mother says nothing. She stands behind the massive oaken table, its surface inlaid with intricate carvings of towering trees. I remember being a boy and sitting on her lap, trailing my fingers over the designs. She’s staring at Rosalina.
Out of all of us, she is the stillest. She holds her chin high, deep breaths making her chest rise and fall. Fear flickers in her gaze, but there’s strength there, too. I close my eyes.If you can be strong, so can I.
Strangely enough, George seems delighted by the whole ordeal. His head swivels around like an owl, and he keeps asking the guards what the sigil—a golden emblazoned ram with a crown of red and orange leaves—on their breast plate means. They all ignore him.
Astrid trembles. Marigold is mercifully silent—for once.
“Mother,” I say. “Please, let me explain.”
Slowly, she sweeps her gaze from Rosalina to me. Her golden eyes flicker like a breeze through a wheat field. “Where were you to explain,” she says, “when our villages fell to the frost? Where were you to explain when the refugees showed up at Coppershire and we had no food to give them because our crops have failed?” Her body shakes, voice growing raspy. “Where were you to explain when I traveled to the border with a host and watched them fall one by one to the frost and I could do nothing because I’d passed along Autumn’s Blessing to someone who took the power and hid?”
“I-I…” Words start and stop in my throat. Mother’s statements rain upon me like a volley of arrows, each one penetrating deeper. But there is nothing to say to defend myself. No defense I deserve. My body weakens, and I stay upright only because I’m bound to Kel.
