“Absolutely not,” Tarin snaps.
“This is my burden,” I state firmly. “I will not risk the lives of my warriors on unstable gate magic.” I look at my soldiers. “I will not ask any of you to step into a portal that may cast you to your death before you ever reach the enemy.”
Dain steps forward. “Our queen was taken.” He thumps his fist against his chest. “You have my sword.”
A second warrior steps beside him. “The queen is ours to protect.”
“The Goblins will pay for taking her,” another says. “We will fight to get her back.”
One by one, they come forward. A line of warriors forming before me with solemn, unshaken expressions.
Emotions claw at my throat. They understand the danger, and still they choose to follow me into it, to rescue the woman who won their hearts with her bravery. The queen who defended their people, who chose this kingdom, who belongs to them now as surely as she belongs to me.
“We must travel fast and light,” I tell them. “No more than half a dozen warriors and their wolves. We will find a way to sneak into the castle and rescue the queen. Once we have her”—I growl low under my breath—“I’ll deal with the Goblin King.”
“I’m coming with you,” Tarin says.
“No, you will remain here.”
His eyes blaze. “I’mgoingwith you.”
“The kingdom needs you.”
“The kingdom needs its king,” he counters.
“And it will still have one if I do not return.” The words drop between us like stones and Tarin flinches as though I have struck him.
“Don’t do this,” he says, voice thick with emotion. “I’m your brother. I will fight at your side. Do not ask me to stay behind.”
I rest a hand on his shoulder. “I’m not asking.”
For one long moment, he says nothing, his eyes full of concern before he finally nods in agreement. “Fine. But promise me that you’ll return.”
It’s the same vow he asked of my father the last time he saw him… before he was killed. Emotions lodge in my throat, but I somehow manage to speak around them. “I will do everything Ican to make it back. But if I fail, promise me you will take care of her.”
“I will,” he vows.
The lower caverns lie deep beneath the palace, carved into the oldest reaches of the mountain. The farther we descend, the colder the air grows. It smells of damp stone and old magic.
Fae lights illuminate the passage. The walls here are different from those above. They’re rougher, etched with runes that speak of ancient power.
Vaelen walks at my side as my warriors and their wolves follow me in grim silence.
As I walk toward the gate, Vivienne’s presence flickers along our bond, faint but alive. That single truth is all that keeps me from splintering apart.
We enter the gate chamber, and everyone falls silent.
The room is vast and circular, the ceiling lost in shadow high above. Pillars ring the chamber, each one wrapped in silver-veined gray stone. Between them, old runes glow faintly beneath centuries of dust.
At the center of the room stands the gate itself—a towering arch of pale stone, carved with twisting vines and ancient symbols. As I step onto the raised dais of stone, I gaze down at the patterns cut into the rock. They are sigils meant to guide, bind, and direct the gate’s power.
Behind me, the warriors spread into formation. Tarin stands near the entrance, and his eyes meet mine one last time before I turn back to the gate and lift my hands.
Magic rises within me, gathering in my palms. Gritting my teeth, I focus as it tears through me like a river breaking throughice. Immense power floods my veins as the runes beneath my feet blaze to life in answer, silver light racing outward in jagged circles.
The ancient arch begins to hum as the chamber around us trembles.
Closing my eyes, I focus my energy on my bond with Vivienne, reaching for her. Directing my magic to find her location, I concentrate on the memory of her.
