Rain soaks us as we make our way into the stables, our breaths heaving as hard as the horses as we dismount.
Evander leads both of our horses into their stalls, and I whisper to Mathilda, “Is this because magic is fading?”
Something passes between Mathilda and Lachlan before she sighs and answers me. “No, that was the Wild Hunt.”
The image of the painting flashes in my mind: the storm, the howl, and the specters.
It is an omen of the Great War.
I press my lips into a thin line. “But Odin is supposed to ride with the Wild Hunt and—” I stop myself from retorting as I glance at Lachlan and Evander.
They are guards,royal guards, sworn to Odessa.
Mathilda murmurs, “They think the same as I do.”
I nod before asking, “I just don’t understand. Magic is still obviously fading, but you guys think it’s all signs of an impending war?” The silence stretches between us.
Lachlan studies me cautiously. “Why couldn’t it be both? Why couldn’t magic be fading, and there be signs that the Great War is approaching?”
“Is that what you guys think?”
Evander peeks out the stable doors before answering, “We know that magic is fading, but these disasters are coming more frequently and have been increasing in intensity. It’s best to err on the side of caution, which is why we want the training grounds open, among other things.”
When it’s phrased that way, it does make sense. Coupled with the tale about the Fomorians and the Idir tree, why shouldn’t we prepare just in case?
“What can I do?” I ask. There’s a weighted pause; their faces vary in degrees of shock.
“Wait,” Mathilda responds, “You will help us?Just like that?”
I get the feeling I’m missing something. “Yes—I mean, I’m here, and the disasters are still happening and now more rapidly. I know Odessa believes my presence should put an end to all of that, but it’s not, and the problems are progressing for the worse, especially if that was the Wild Hunt. I definitely think you are all right, and it’s an omen of war. My mother told me the stories.”
Lachlan shakes his head, his gaze grim. “I dinna think ye ken.What ye just said goes against everything Odessa and Julius are trying to establish with the council; this would make ye a rebel.”
The sound of that word should make me afraid or, at the very least, guilty for turning my back on my only family member here, but it doesn’t. Something about following this path spurs me on further.
“I can understand how they would initially think these disasters are related to magic fading, but this,” I point to the storm like Mathilda did earlier, “is a really bad sign if it is the Wild Hunt.”
The rain stops instantly, as do the roaring winds, as if they, too, agree with my words. The sun bathes the land, the clouds dissipating rapidly. It’s still and quiet, almost as if there wasn’t ever a storm to begin with. The only evidence is the soaked grass and mud.
“Lena,” Mathilda starts, “You can’t tell anyone what we think, not even Odessa.”
There’s something cautious about her words.
“Why not?” I ask, trying to understand. If I were wrong, I would want to know so that I could fix it.
“Let’s just wait and see what they say when you get back. Feel them out, okay? This is dangerous,” she replies.
My head tilts in confusion. “Dangerous, how?”
Lachlan’s face turns grave. “There ha’ been accidents, unexplainable,deadlyaccidents that seem to take out anyone who disagrees with them. Nothing obvious enough to point a finger directly at anyone. But people who dinna share their opinions on this wind up dead.”
Mathilda’s eyes shine with sorrow.
I swallow loudly before asking, “Is that why you guys haven’t done anything yet?”
They all share a look before Lachlan answers, “We dinna ha’ the support before, with most being happy to live in peace. But with ye becoming queen, ye could save us in more ways thanone. Ye can change things without the bloodshed we would cause if we tried to stage a coup.”
I nod quickly. “I can do that.”
