“We found them. We found the Huntresses,” I gasp.
As my mind further clears of its fog, I now see the room we’re in is a hive of activity. Women clad in rugged leathers stand in groups on either side, talking to each other. Each is unmistakably a warrior, their muscles honed. For every Huntress stands a Pegasus. Some are huge, towering over their companions, while others are the size of horses. They come in every shade from black to grey to white, to lightest blue and palest pink.
Most magnificent of all is the young girl standing before the Huntress on the throne, facing her down with equal ferocity.
“My name is Delphia, daughter of Sabine, granddaughter of Drusilla. I am the steward of Summer, and I have come to ask for your aid in this trying time.” Her voice carries through the chamber. Gone is the young girl I walked with, who cooed over the foal or squabbled with Nori; instead stands a leader. I’m reminded of Sabine’s presence.
“Welcome Delphia, daughter of Sabine, granddaughter of Drusilla,” the woman says. Even seated, I can tell she’s tall. Her skin is bronzed by the desert sun, face weathered. She wears a white tunic belted at the waist with rope, with light leather armor that has seen its time in battle. “I am Matron Valeria. Welcome to the home of the Huntresses of Aura.”
I see Delphia fight her smile. “We have crossed the realm to find you, by sea and by sand.”
“You are quite determined,” Valeria muses. “Now, would you like to explain why you have stolen one of our flock?”
She looks to the corner of the room, where the foal, Drusilla, nuzzles against a large Pegasus the same shade of white.
“We didn’t steal her!” Delphia insists. “We saved her from a harpy’s nest. As I was saying, we have come a long way to find you.”
Valeria waves dismissively. “Tell me, what business does a child of the capital have with us?”
Delphia falls to her knees. “We beg for your assistance. Hadria has been overtaken by dark evil. My brother, the High Prince, has been deposed of his throne. I was tasked with the protection of the city. My mother’s mother was a Huntress. Your blood runs in my veins. I call upon our order to assist in retaking the city of Hadria for the good of all Summer—”
“Our order!” Valeria scoffs and looks to a group of Huntresses at her side. “This capital spawn calls herself one of our order! Yes, yes, I remember your mother’s mother. Drusilla was valiant. Brave. Then she left to be at the side of a High Prince and concerned herself with politics. She forgot the skies.”
Delphia staggers up. “She did not forget. Her memory has passed to me. My blood remembers the skies. Please, Hadria needs—”
“We do not involve ourselves in the politics of the realms,” Valeria snaps. “Century after century, we did our part to protect what we could. More often than not, it was the High Rulers causing such ills against the balance of nature. Our hearts can take no more. We remain here, where our steeds and spirits can be free.”
I lick my lips, wanting to stand, wanting to run to Delphie’s side. But she sets her jaw. “This isn’t about politics. This is about the people! This is for the good of every living creature in Summer, the good of the realm!”
“Who knows what is for the good of the realm?” Valeria says. “Only the Queen. If she has abandoned you, then there is no reason for us to risk our sanctuary.”
I close my eyes and grit my teeth. Then I stand. “If it is the Queen’s word you need, then let me give it to you. I am fated mate to Rosalina O’Connell, the Golden Rose, daughter of Queen Aurelia. She seeks your swords and wings in this battle for Summer.”
Silence echoes in the chamber. Valeria stands and strides over to me. She grabs my chin and tilts my head each way, examining me closely.
“Let me see your blade,” she says finally.
I draw my sword and present it to her. She takes it and holds it up to the light. “I fought beside the wielder of this blade once. She was a mighty warrior. Together, we cleared a grove of blighted dryads that stretched along the border of Summer and Spring.” Her gaze pierces into me. “That makes you Isidora’s son. Ezryn.”
“Yes.”
She hands me back my blade and returns to her throne. “Here in our midst, we have a child steward begging a throne back for her brother and the supposed fated mate of the Golden Rose. He is a Prince of Spring, yet he bears no Blessing nor helm. What am I to do? Am I to trust the word of these strangers?” She looks to the Huntresses at her side.
“The Queen’s daughter needs our aid,” Delphia urges. “Together, we can retake Hadria.”
“Retake Hadria for whom? One noble or another on the throne makes no difference to us.”
“You don’t understand,” I say. “The man claiming himself to be Emperor is a servant of the Below. He must be brought to justice.”
“And you are the one to do so?” Valeria raises an eyebrow. “I have seen your justice, son of Isidora. Yes, we’ve watched you across the desert these last few days. You are not a hunter. You are a slayer. There is no balance in your justice.”
“I kill only those who deserve it,” I growl.
Her voice booms between the walls. “Who are you to pass judgment? I have heard of this Golden Rose, but I see not the mate of a Princess. I see a storm ready to rip root from earth. We cannot fly in a storm, slayer son of Isidora.”
Panic breaks across Delphia’s face. “Please, you have to help. I’ve come so far to find you. My brother is counting on me!”
Nori runs up and grabs her arm.
