“Thank you,” I say, even though I’m not very hungry. It seems wrong to eat or even think about food right now, but I pick at the light meal as we linger in the small clearing.
I sense Gideon’s urgency to get moving and find the scene of the ambush, but I also feel his hesitation, and my heart aches for him. He’s worried about how many faces he will recognize, how many old friends he might glimpse from Frostfall.
“I write to my brother frequently,” he says as he pulls another pouch of nuts and dried berries from his rucksack. “But he never mastered the ability to summon messenger birds, so he can’t send replies very often. Usually, he’s only able to send a letter when a highborn lord who possesses such abilities is passing through Frostfall. And so, I didn’t know a group of my people had recently departed my home province. If I had… well, if I couldn’t get away from the Winter Court army long enough to escort them myself, I would’ve arranged for another highborn fae to provide escort.” He lowers his head and picks at hisbreakfast, and my heart aches anew as I sense his guilt through our bond.
“Tell me about Frostfall.” Walking closer, I place a hand on his arm.
He swallows hard, and his eyes become haunted with memories. “It’s a small province on the western edge of Winter Court lands,” he says slowly. “It’s beautiful. Or at least, it used to be. With the absence of ussha, the frozen lakes that were once perfect for ice fishing have long melted, and the waters are now stagnant, the fish gone. The forests were once teeming with game, and the trees once bore fruits and nuts. The settlement was centered around a massive, shared garden that produced vegetables year-round despite the cold.”
I gasp when he sends me an image through the bond. An image of what Frostfall used to look like. Frozen waterfalls, sparkling, blue frozen lakes, snow-covered trees laden with ripe fruit, and colorful cottages spread across a snowy terrain. Then he shows me an image of what his home province looks like now. The difference is startling. Frostfall now appears as a nearly barren wasteland, most of the trees shriveled and lacking the glimmer of ussha, many of the houses crumbling, and nearly all the lakes and rivers brown.
“Thank you for showing me,” I say, taking his hand. “I can understand why your people are leaving the Winter Court. Soon, there will be nothing left.”
“When ussha first started spreading, we tried everything to stop it, everything we could to keep it contained within fae lands. Magic. Prayers. Even witchcraft and blood spells. Nothing worked. Then our priestesses started having visions about our people taking over human and orc lands and, eventually, ruling over the entire realm.”
“Do you know how many of your people remain in Frostfall?” I pass him the pouch that contains the remnants of mybreakfast, and he tucks it away in one of the bags. “And… why didn’t everyone just decide to leave at once, your brother with them?”
“Although ussha is leaving fae lands, some fae are reluctant to follow it. There are those who keep praying and hoping something will happen to reverse the spread of ussha, and they remain in their dying lands until the last possible moment… until the vegetation is naught but dust and the water is poison. As for how many of my people remain in Frostfall, I believe there are now fewer than five hundred. In the last letter I sent my brother, Lachlan, I instructed him to do whatever he must to encourage the remaining residents to leave, even offer them gold from our coffers.”
As I quietly absorb all that Gideon has just revealed, a new respect for him and his people begins to take root within me. It sounds as though they truly tried everything to save the fae lands, yet nothing was enough to halt the spread of ussha. My heart aches for the burden Gideon carries. Through the bond, I feel the weight of his guilt and the way he’s being pulled in two directions. He feels bound to remain with the Winter Court army, protecting fae settlements from human and orc attacks, yet part of him longs to return to Frostfall and ease the burden his brother has been forced to bear alone.
“You just have one sibling? A brother named Lachlan?” I ask.
He nods. “Yes. He’s three hundred years younger than me. Though I’m the oldest, it’s quite common for a younger sibling to govern a province while the older one serves in a fae army, even for a few hundred years or more. I thought my brother was up to the task; however, I am concerned that he is too attached to Frostfall. I am worried that perhaps he’s not doing all he can to convince the remaining faefolk in our lands to finally leave. Rather than help them pack and plan their travels, he has started importing goods from the human and orc lands, which onlymakes it easier for them to stay.” He tucks what remains of his own breakfast into a bag, then retrieves a waterskin and passes it to me.
“Perhaps after the situation with Hollins is dealt with,” I say, “you can take a leave of absence from the Winter Court army and return to Frostfall. You can finish what your brother hasn’t been able to.” I take a quick sip of water before passing the waterskin back to him.
He studies me for a moment, and I feel his mind brushing against mine. He’s searching my thoughts for any hint of deceit. He wants to know if I’m still plotting against him, in a way, and thinking about escape.
“Your magic won’t be as strong in Frostfall,” I say, sensing his worries. “And you fear that if you bring me along, I might manage to run away. But you also don’t want to leave me behind somewhere.”
“Yes.” That’s all he says. He doesn’t announce which option he’ll take, nor am I able to sense any more of his thoughts on the subject.
He takes a long drink, then returns the waterskin to his rucksack. He pushes away from the towering tree stump, nearly as tall as he is, and he guides me out of the small clearing and into the thickness of the forest.
We walk in silence for some time. Thankfully, we don’t encounter any dangerous fae creatures, though I do glimpse several strange-looking rodents and other small animals scampering about that I suspect are native to fae lands.
I sense we’re close to the site of the ambush when the forest falls eerily quiet. As we continue walking, I don’t see a single bird or squirrel. It’s as though death is still lingering in the area, and no living creatures dare to enter or make a noise.
Then I see it.
The bodies.
So many bodies strewn across the forest floor, most of them face-down with arrows protruding from their backs. A gasp catches in my throat, and horror washes through me. They must have been trying to flee the human soldiers, only to be shot down as they ran.
How brutal. How unjust.
How shocking.
Beside me, Gideon goes utterly still.
For a long moment, he does not move.
Then, with a slow and terrible sort of purpose, he finally steps forward.
I follow in silence, my heart pounding as he moves from body to body, kneeling beside each fallen fae to gently turn them over. One by one, he closes their eyes with the brush of his fingertips, his expression growing more haunted with every face he recognizes.
A silent sob wracks my body when he approaches one of the children.
