"He is mine," Leone said coldly. "He will stand trial in Ceilte."
"If he survives long enough," Malek muttered, a grim smile forming.
"Then it’s settled," Leone concluded, folding the map. "Ruk’hai, prepare your warriors. Alaric, position your guards along Brathadair’s perimeter. And Fiona… be ready."
We nodded together.
The plan was set.
Now, all that remained was to face King Faélán and bring my father home.
Chapter 30
The dawn in Grìosach had a deceptive beauty.
The golden castle gleamed beneath the sunlight, majestic and imposing, living up to its name. We advanced along the main road; I stood at the center, Leone to my left, and Malek to my right. There was still no sign of Drak or Kristan, a silence that set my nerves on edge. Even so, I forced myself to trust in my friend’s strength and in the loyalty of the orc to whom Malek had entrusted my life.
Upon our approach to the gates, we were stopped by a group of Autumn Court guards, armed and tense. The fear in their eyes at seeing Malek was obvious.
"Identify yourselves and declare your intentions," the captain of the guard ordered.
Leone stepped forward, his posture haughty. "I’m Lord Leone Kerridan, son of Lord Alasdair Kerridan and heir to the Throne of Ceilte. I demand an immediate audience with King Faélán."
"The King can’t receive visitors," the captain replied.
"He can," I said, taking a step forward and making sure he saw the axe. "We have an urgent matter to address with him."
The guard’s gaze flicked to my axe, then to the orc looming behind me like a sentinel, well over ten feet tall.
"Wait here," he said finally, and sent another guard running toward the castle.
The cursed king made us wait for a long time. I recognized this tactic; my father had employed it countless times in Ceilte. Making your enemies wait was a silent way ofasserting power, of reminding them who dictated the rhythm of negotiations.
The tension between the guards of the Autumn Court was like a bomb about to explode. Malek remained by my side, his hand firm on the axe handle, ready to react to any threat.
Nearly an hour later, one of the guards returned, accompanied by a red-haired male dressed in fine clothes.
"Lord Leone, Lady Fionnuala, and the… orc," he announced, contempt dripping from his voice. "King Faélán is indisposed at the moment."
"We demand an audience," Leone said. He maintained his calm, but the authority in his voice was clear. "Our business concerns Lord Alasdair and treason against Ceilte."
A cold, calculated smile touched the red-haired lord’s lips, not reaching his eyes.
"I understand. Lord Fenric has already informed us about the situation. He said that the leader of the Oksha, the one called Ruk'hai, invaded Ceilte and took their heir. Lord Alasdair had to leave in a hurry to solve the crisis."
"That’s a lie," I retorted, fury igniting in my chest at Fenric's audacity to blame Malek for his own betrayal and at the Court's nerve to lie about my brother's kidnapping.
Malek took a step forward, and the red-haired lord instinctively recoiled. The orc said nothing, but the silent threat he exuded was more powerful than any word.
"As you can see, my lord, I wasn’t kidnapped by them, and my father didn’t flee," Leone retorted. "Fenric planned a coup and is now holding Alasdair prisoner in your Court. We demand his release and the right to present our evidence to King Faélán."
The red-haired lord shook his head, his smile widening into a sneer.
"Evidence? Lord Fenric is a respected noble. And you"—he swept his gaze from Malek to me, his contempt evident—"a cursed orc and a savage dare to suggest treason? The King won’t waste his time with slanders."
"Then Faélán has chosen his side," Malek growled, finally breaking his silence.
"The side of the truth, orc. You’re the invaders here."
