"Fenric orchestrated the invasion of Oksha to incite a war," I said. "We’re here to stop it."
Leone, realizing that diplomacy had failed, stepped forward with a decisive stride.
"Tell the King he has ten minutes to receive us. Otherwise, we’ll storm the castle."
The red-haired lord gasped with indignation.
"You’re bluffing, Lord Leone. Ceilte doesn’t have enough soldiers to invade Brathadair."
"But we do," Malek said, pointing behind him.
The orc troop emerged from the forest, moving like a tempestuous and relentless wave. The Okshai warriors, with their leather armor and axes, were the stuff of nightmares for many Fae. Everyone in Tir Na Si knew that one orc warrior was equivalent to ten High Fae. For this reason, despite the High Fae having superior numbers and many being able to use magic offensively, the orcs held firm in their fights.
"This is insane!" the red-haired lord gasped. "You’re declaring war against a Court?!"
"No, Lord," I replied. "We’re declaring war on a traitor. And King Faélán has nine minutes to decide whether he stands with him or with the truth."
The red-haired lord staggered before turning and walking quickly toward the castle, followed by the captain of the guard, who quickly abandoned his arrogant posture.
The minutes stretched like an eternity. I felt the inquisitive gazes of the Autumn Court guards as they watched us with a mixture of fear and hostility. The Okshai's imposing presence in the clearing was a clear warning that we weren't there to play games.
Malek stood like a pillar of stone at my side. His hand found mine, steady and sure. He didn’t need words to tell me he was there, ready for whatever came.
"They’re afraid," Leone whispered, a smirk playing on his lips. "They didn't expect us to go this far."
"Fenric must have painted a scenario where an attack was unfeasible," I replied, keeping my eyes fixed on the golden gates.
Before the time ran out, the castle gates opened with a metallic creak. A procession emerged, led by none other than King Faélán himself, flanked by his Royal Guard.
The King of the Autumn Court was a tall, slender Fae of impeccable posture. His long red hair was braided with threads of gold, and his eyes, the color of amber, though cold, seemed to contain sunlight. Upon his head rested the ancestral crown of Grìosach, made of twisted branches in shades of aged gold and bronze.
I had seen him a few times before, in situations vastly different from this one. Once, my father had consideredmarrying me off to his son, Prince Fintan. At the time, my mother had been against the idea, saying she didn’t want me moving away from Ceilte. I had to thank her for sparing me from that fate.
Faélán's arrogance preceded him. King for thousands of years, with no signs of stepping down to make room for his son, he was known for having the temper of a volcano on the verge of eruption, and he was always trying to take advantage of everyone.
Fenric wasn’t with him—a minor disappointment. The traitor lacked the audacity to face us on the front lines. The king stopped a few feet from us, his gaze sweeping over the Okshai troop with visible contempt. He exuded authority, but I noticed a shadow of apprehension in his eyes.
“Lord Leone,” he greeted. “I must say your visit is... unexpected, and your escort, alarming.”
“Your Majesty,” Leone replied, performing a formal bow, which Malek and I pointedly ignored. “My escort proves the urgency of our matter and the alliance at stake, which I hope you understand before it’s too late.”
“An alliance with wildlings?” Faélán raised an eyebrow, his derision evident. “This is absurd, Lord Leone.”
A cacophony of growls echoed through the clearing.
“No, Your Highness, it’s the truth,” I said, stepping forward and forcing the King to focus his attention on me. “I’m Fionnuala Kerridan, Lady of Ceilte, and krash’uk of the Ruk’hai Malek. We’re here to speak about Fenric and Alasdair.”
King Faélán blinked slowly, processing the information.
“Krash’uk? Lady Fionnuala, what happened to your appearance?”
“She’s my mate and leader of the Okshai,” Malek intervened, his voice low but charged with a threat that made the King recoil. “The female who chose to walk by my side.”
King Faélán ignored Malek, turning back to Leone. His disdain for my orc only made my blood boil. The arrogance of the High Fae would one day be their undoing.
“Fenric is a loyal nobleman, Lord Leone. He informed me that the attack on the Oksha clan was retaliation for their having kidnapped you. Your poor father was so worried about you that he fell ill as soon as he arrived here.”
I stifled the gasp that threatened to escape. My father… ill?
