I don’t need to look twice. The scene is now imprinted on my mind. “Six, maybe seven men. All torn apart. Icy-white hair. Silver armor. Blades with beautiful handles. They’re all Frost Fae. All highborn.”
Stellen’s chin brushes the side of my face as he nods. “What don’t you see?”
I don’t need to look again. “Wolves.” I try to twist to see Stellen, but I’m pinned in place. “Highborn Frost Fae wouldn’t travel on foot.”
“Correct. Now take another look at their wounds.”
Every part of me resists. I’d much rather rely on my first impression, but I force myself to glance at the final two bodies we pass.
I’m struck by their weapons first, blades clutched in their hands, frozen to their palms by splattered ice.
As for the bodies…
My forehead creases. “The cuts are clean. Sharp. Precise.”
Stellen’s lips descend to my ear again, his whisper barely above a breath of sound. “More like blades than claws and teeth, yes?”
The Northerners didn’t carry blades. I’m certain of it. When they shapeshifted, they became completely naked. Brunkil’s coat may have concealed knives or daggers, but none large enough to have cleanly beheaded afae.
“But…how?”
“I’d like to give you a piece of information I don’t expect you’ll already know.” Stellen’s voice is so low that I strain to hear him. “It may surprise you to learn that Lilis can’t stand to see an animal hurt. She would never, for example, attack a white wolf. In turn, no white wolf, no matter its alliance, will attack her. Don’t ask me why. I don’t have the answer.”
Well, that certainly explains something that didn’t make sense to me before now. “Is that why Lilis didn’t strike Fable when Fable was in wolf form?”
Stellen nods. “Even now that Lilis knows they’re shapeshifters, I’m certain she would struggle to hurt Fable. Especially if Fable is in her animal form. Unfortunately, this could mean Lilis would hesitate to hurt Brunkil, too.”
“Which could be how he got the best of her.”
“True.” Then Stellen says, “But you should also consider: Lilis has no such reluctance when it comes to killing fae.”
I consider Lilis’s stiff posture as she rides her wolf ahead of us. The way she remains alert to our surroundings. Then the wound on the back of her head and, although I can’t see it right now, the cut above her eye and the bruises on her face.
And then, this time without looking, I consider what I saw of the battle behind me. Ice splattered across weapons. Precision cuts through limbs…
Dear Goddess…
“Stellen.” I nudge his chin with my forehead since turning my head is as much as I can achieve right now. “Who were those men? And why did Lilis kill them?”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Stellen
My enemies in Frost are no longer moving in the shadows.
Brunkil was just the beginning.
I may fight a never-ending war against the Iron and Ember Fae, but there are other equally powerful foe I must warn Thyra about.
Her pounding heart dominates my hearing, but her firm command is as clear and strong as a ringing bell. “Explain all of this to me.”
I don’t withhold information, listening to the changes in her breathing, her reactions as I speak.
“The men who died in that field belong to a family that has grown more powerful with every generation: the Silversten family. My grandfather should have put a stop to their growing power, but he was greedy and my father more so. They both ignored the threat as long as the Silversten family paid them well. Frost coin. Courtesans. Precious artifacts. The only good thing my father did was to demand possession of all scrolls and historical writings.
“Meanwhile, the head of the Silversten family covets the throne. Until today, he’s sent assassins under the cover of shadows. Quiet attempts. But when Nara came back without me last night, his spies in the city would have relayed that information to him. He will have seen his chance to attack.”
“So his men followed Lilis and Nara to the Alak-Teah and…what?” Thyra asks. “Hoped to find you injured?”
