I swallowed hard and, before panic could paralyze me, pulled him into a quick, desperate kiss.
"You too."
Outside, the village was in uproar.
Orcs ran with their blades and axes, reflecting the torchlight. It wasn't even dawn yet. My heart squeezed at the sight of mothers screaming in fear while pushing their young away, trying to hide them from the threat.
The air echoed with orders, screams, and the clash of metal against metal. Among them, advancing with complete confidence, the High Fae invaded the village, spreading through the alleys like hungry ants swarming over sugar.
My stomach lurched the moment I recognized the banner they carried. The fabric, cream as pale as ivory, was framed by grayish olive-green embroidery, and in the center sat the emblem of a solitary leaf stitched in gold thread.
That wasn't the banner of the Autumn Court. It was the banner of Ceilte. Of my family.
My breath hitched, and I couldn't move; my mind spun in a frantic search for an explanation for the sudden invasion. I knew Alasdair would never attack the Okshai directly this way. He wouldn't do it.
"It’s not possible," I whispered, my voice choked with incredulity.
Malek turned to me, his face a mask of fury, his brown eyes bright.
"They came from Ceilte." The tone of his voice left no room for doubt.
With a roar that unleashed his rage, he lunged toward the battle, his war axe becoming a metallic blur amid the advancing bodies.
I followed him, my fear replaced by a frigid wave of determination. In that moment, I chose a side—and it wasn't my homeland.
The High Fae invading the village were, from what I could see, guards from Ceilte—the very same ones I had seen daily in the castle courtyards. Their moss-green uniforms were immaculate, their faces masked by professional coldness. They weren't here to capture; they were here to destroy.
I fought shoulder to shoulder with Malek in the middle of the square. His axe spun through the air in unerring strikes, a true reaper of lives. He didn’t hesitate; he simply did what was necessary. Some orcs fell beneath the sharp blades of the High Fae, and the guards, in turn, succumbed to the brutal and relentless strength of my Ruk’hai and his warriors.
"Retreat!" Malek roared to the Okshai. "Get the children to the shelter!"
A group of orcs obeyed, organizing themselves into a swift retreat toward the passages that led to the safety of the underground shelters during attacks.
At that moment, a familiar-looking High Fae lunged at me. His longsword sliced through the air toward me with such precision that, had I not dodged at the last second, my head would have rolled. I recognized the crest on his chest—two intertwined snakes, one red and one green—along with the dark hair and eyes as cruel as his father's. It was Fenric’s son, Kael. The very same one whose marriage proposal my father had refused. How ironic.
Fenric had finally shown his claws.
"Get out of my way, you filthy orc," Kael spat, contempt thick in his voice.
I smiled humorlessly and raised my axe in time to block his next strike. The impact reverberated through my arms.
"Now, Kael…" I taunted, holding his gaze. "Don't you recognize your sovereign anymore?"
His eyes widened when he heard my voice, a bit raspier now, perhaps, but unmistakably the same. I didn't give him a second to recover from the shock. With a snarl of fury, I lunged at him.
The blade of my axe sliced through the air and struck his sword arm with such force that he dropped his weapon by instinct, collapsing to his knees. His scream blended into the chaos of battle, but I didn't care about his suffering.
Malek had taught me never to hesitate.
"Fionnuala? What are you doing?" He actually dared to sound hurt, as though I were the one who had wounded his feelings.
I delivered a punch fueled by resentment and rage for what he and his father had done to my people, both in Oksha and in Ceilte. The snap of his nose breaking echoed in a deeply satisfying way.
"It’s Lady Fionnuala to you."
I looked around, searching for my Ruk’hai.
He was only a few feet away, fighting three guards at once. I watched, mouth agape, while his axe swung and the three High Fae fell with their throats slit.
