Artis places a comforting hand on her husband’s thick forearm. A topazring glints underneath the overhead light. “We fear that you were right,” she says softly, “If we do nothing, our people will still die.”
The urge to yellI know I’m right!,to lean back in my chair and laugh, to give them the same treatment they gave me, is overwhelming. I sigh and force the thought away. They still haven’t outright said they’d help us. Yet.
“Alright,” I say, “Then there’s a lot to discuss. Before we do, I’d like to introduce you to my court.”
Artis smiles and squeezes Torben’s forearm, then drops her hand back into her lap.
“You’ve met Ivan and Holly before. They are my advisors.” I gesture to each of them. “They sacrificed a lot to be here with me. I owe them my life.” I gesture to Basil, who straightens and puffs his chest. “Basil is an owl shifter. He has also been instrumental in advising me.”
Amaris remains leaned back in her chair, one leg crossed over the other. “This is Amaris.” She grunts when I motion to her. Their eyes flare when they see her. I don’t blame them. Seeing her for the first time shocked me, too. It’s not just her, impressive and intimidating as she is. It’s the swirling tattoos, the raw power emanating from her, the size of her. It’s the fact that she’s clearly Fae.
I gesture to Etta, and Torben and Artis do double-takes.
“Basil is responsible for saving Princess Etta’s life,” I say. “In return, Etta has been leading a group of Lower House members and the Fae who have been fighting against the witches. We have assisted them with facilitating the rescues of several prisoners set to be hanged.” I leave out the bit about the resistance. I’m not sure where Torben and Artis fall on their approval of the Lower House becoming a formal House, and I’m not particularly interested in losing their help yet. “I do not bring you the support of House Panthera, but I do bring you Etta’s forces. They are prepared to fight.”
Artis nods once. She doesn’t look at Torben or even pretend to consider my proposal. “We will help you.”
Relief floods through me. Even though Artis and Torben have been thorns in my side, I resist the urge to fall out of my chair and worship at her feet for those four words. We have a fighting chance. Or at least, we have a greater chance than we did previously. A flickerof hope settles in my chest and I want to cup my hands around it, to protect it from extinguishing. Ever since Marik took the throne, I’ve felt like everything we’ve done has been a failure. Until now. Finally, we have some help. We’re not doing this alone.
“Our citizens are eager to fight, to put a stop to the torture of our wildlife and our forest. The witches have done enough. We are ready to take up arms,” Artis says.
We spend the remainder of our meeting discussing everything that’s happened since we last saw them—Etta’s revival, my capture and subsequent escape, the Mother’s dreams, the prophecy, the victories we’ve had, and the lives we’ve saved. Barrett agrees to meet with August to share all the information from today. By the time we’ve finished speaking, postures have slumped and eyes have begun to grow heavy.
Artis stands and clasps her hands together, her sage green gown shifting. “Our guest quarters in The Den are not as spacious as the quarters above, but they will serve their purpose until the sun rises.”
“Thank you, Artis, but that’s alright,” I respond as I rise. “I haven’t slept in a bed with my mate in…quite some time.” Asmo inches closer to me, and I swallow my smile. “If we can’t defend ourselves against a few witches and their creatures long enough to funnel back to our home, I question our ability to defend ourselves against an army of them.”
Torben eyes me with something like respect. I always underestimate the weight of brute strength in a male’s mind.
“Thank you for believing in me,” I say to the King and Queen of Bears.Even though you didn’t before and now you have no choice.The words are on the tip of my tongue, but I force them back down. Instead, I smile. “Barrett, would you mind escorting us out?”
When we’re back in the hallway, Barrett turns to me, thick brows drawn together. “You’re not really planning on going out there, are you?”
“I am.”
Asmo chuckles behind me. I look back to my ragtag group, to my friends, my mate, my family. “If anybody is uncomfortable going outside, you’re welcome to stay here and portal back to Squall’s End tomorrow.”
Amaris extracts two newly sharpened daggers, the white tattoos on her arms swirling. “You know my answer.”
Basil’s smile widens. “Not a shot, Your Highness.”
Etta tries—and fails—to hide her giggle, and Holly glances at her with adoration. Ivan looks at me with…something that I think might be pride. And Asmo, of course, stares at me like I’m the sun.
We exit the safety and warmth of The Den, and Barrett gestures for us all to be silent as we begin the long, arduous trek back up the stairs. No more light filters in through the top windows, so we climb in silence and darkness. Over the sounds of our breathing, faint animal screams and bellows filter in through the walls, growing louder with every step.
We crest the stairs, and Barrett pulls me into a silent hug. He gives me a look that I interpret asAre you sure you want to do this?
I place a hand on his shoulder and squeeze, meeting his warm brown eyes once more before turning and facing the door. Asmo joins me, lacing his fingers with mine.
The night air is frigid, the cold wrapping me in its grip like a fist. A scattering of stars peeks through trees that have been scorched, yet still reach for the sky.
The Mother created this forest eons ago, and it still stands. She created me and my mate to protect this forest. She gifted me with the ability to pull from Her creation, to funnel its life and vitality and pour it into my magic. To help, to defend, to protect those who cannot protect themselves. To serve as a beacon of hope, a symbol of strength and courage.
An animal growls in warning, followed by the cackle of a witch. I look to my right, to the night-drenched male standing beside me. Who once told me it’s okay to be scared, that all that counts is what you do in the face of terror. He looks at me now, a soft smile on his handsome face.
“Make them wish they were back in Hell, princess,” he says.
I match my mate’s smile over the sounds of witches screaming, knowing it will be the last time they utter a sound. I look back over my shoulder. Amaris, Holly, Etta, Ivan, and Basil all meet my gaze, hands out and ready, looks of determination on their faces. “Not too late to get out of here,” I say.
