“Fenric lied,” Leone countered. “He orchestrated a coup in Ceilte to depose Lord Alasdair, Your Highness.”
He ignored the part about our father having gone to Grìosach voluntarily and falling ill. Everyone present knew it was a preposterous lie, mainly because Fae didn’t fall ill unless something grave—such as poison—afflicted them.
“We have proof of Fenric’s treachery,” I intervened. “And the army of Ceilte, under Leone’s authority, is on our side. We came in peace, but prepared for war if necessary.”
The king pondered. His gaze fixed on Malek, weighing the orc’s power, and then slid toward the Okshai troop. He knew that the union of Ceilte and Oksha was a real threat to his dominion; it remained to be seen whether he would accept it to his advantage or continue with his boundless arrogance.
“What is it you want me to do, Lord Leone?” Faélán asked, his voice slightly softer.
“We want my father, Alasdair Kerridan, safe and sound, and Fenric tried for treason. And…” he paused, glancing brieflyat Malek, “we want a treaty of peace and alliance between Ceilte and the Oksha clan, with the recognition of their rights over Marukoksha.”
King Faélán laughed, a humorless sound that grated on my ears.
“You’re asking for too much.”
“We’re asking for justice,” I countered. “If Alasdair isn’t released safely, we’ll consider the Autumn Court complicit in Fenric’s treason, and then, Your Highness, you’ll have a war that goes far beyond Ceilte and Oksha.”
Malek squeezed my hand again, the warmth of his touch giving me strength. King Faélán watched us carefully; the balance of power was tipping in our favor. Should he decide on war, he would violate the treaty with the Winter Court, which dictated Lyraen as a neutral region and therefore exempt from war. If Faélán went to war with us and conquered Ceilte, he would also have trouble with the other Courts.
“Unfortunately for you, I can’t allow that,” he replied at last, surprising me. Did he truly prefer to risk the tenuous alliance with the enemy Court rather than return our father?
With a brief gesture of his hand, hundreds of guards armed with bows and arrows appeared upon the walls of Brathadair, aiming them at us.
Faélán’s eyes gleamed with triumph.
“I must congratulate you, Lord Leone. You and your sister have nerves of steel to threaten a Court. But I must remind you: a sick Fae has no exchange value to me, and a handful of savages doesn’t intimidate my soldiers.”
Malek let go of my hand and stepped forward.
“You’re mistaken, kir’shakur. We’ll be your death,” he growled, that hoarse and guttural voice I loved so much echoing through the clearing like a promise.
The king didn’t even blink at the threat, his posture straight and his mask of contempt intact.
“Arrest the heirs of Alasdair!” he commanded the guards. “Kill the orcs.”
Everything happened in the blink of an eye. One moment I was at Malek’s side; the next, he pulled me behind his body, rising like a shield between me and the arrows aimed in our direction.
Behind us, the Okshai warriors let out a war cry loud enough to chill even the bravest heart. Then, as one, they surged toward the guards. Leone drew his sword, a silent command for the warriors of Ceilte surrounding Brathadair to attack.
As if time slowed, I saw the guards draw back their bowstrings and release. Hundreds of arrows sliced through the air toward us, deadly and far too fast for escape. In front of me, my orc tensed, caring little for how vulnerable that position left him so long as I was protected.
Panic seized me, and the An Talamh responded to my instinct. Without thinking, I summoned it. The force of the earth erupted from my fingers, no longer a soft mist but a wall of pure emerald-green energy, dense and vibrant.
The arrows remained suspended in the air. The flash of the An Talamh illuminated Malek’s face as he turned to me, his eyes wide but filled with pride.
“My krash’uk,” he whispered with a bared-tooth grin, before letting out a guttural battle roar.
Leone, at my side, seized the confusion. “Attack!” he bellowed, and the army of Ceilte surged forward with renewed fervor.
The arrows fell harmlessly to the ground, but the emerald-green barrier of magic remained, vibrating with the strength of the land of Marukoksha behind us.
Malek surged forward, his axe tracing a deadly arc through the air. He was a blur of fury and strength, striking the line of guards who were desperately trying to reorganize. His roar resonated, mingling with the cries of the Okshai, who now fought with ferocity while shielded by my magic.
Leone, sword in hand, engaged the other guards. He moved with speed and precision, seizing the chaos to advance toward the king, who was retreating into the midst of his soldiers.
“Your Majesty, surrender!” Leone shouted, his voice filled with authority. “Release Alasdair!”
Faélán, however, did not listen. His face was a mask of pure hatred. He raised his hand, and a pulse of Fae magic, the color of autumn leaves, struck the An Talamh barrier. The shock was painful and made my entire body vibrate.
