Despite the melancholy mood, Zephyr offers me a smile, easing the fears warring inside me. His smile reassures me he’s here with me. That despite the war on our kingdom, I’m not fighting alone.
“We fear the Nephilim will try to break through our southern borders.” My general pulls my attention back to the map. He points to our southern shore, the closest to King Taivan, the pixie king, and his kingdom.
“Do you believe they’ll attempt to infiltrate the Pixie Kingdom through our shores?” my mother asks, her sharp gaze scanning the horizon, missing nothing. Even as a child, I couldn’t get away with anything, as my mother’s senses are sharp and knowing.
I pleaded with her to remain at the castle, but my mother listens to no one—not even her own son, the king. Stubborn as she is, her presence here has its advantages. She is a gifted healer, able to harness the power of nature to create potent remedies. As a child, I lost count of how many times she had to mend my wounds, soothemy fevers, and patch me back together after one reckless misadventure or another. I was always wild—too restless to sit still and too eager to chase the next thrill. Even as king, I find myself in the midst of battle and adventure more often than not. Only this time, it’s not by choice.
My general warns of the heavy burden resting upon us. “Yes, Lady Thalia. I believe that’s exactly what the Nephilim plan on doing. We are simply collateral to them. Their true purpose is to obtain the magic from Pixie Cove and wreak havoc along the way.”
“We need to call upon all the kings. This has grown bigger than what we and the dragons can handle,” Zephyr says. My mate has been preaching about getting the others involved for some time. I don’t think he’s wrong, but I also don’t think we’ve exhausted all our options yet.
“That will only be a bandage on the real problem, my love,” I tell him gently, all eyes focusing on us. We don’t disagree often, and rarely in public, but this hardly seems the time for secrecy. “Each king has defended their kingdom with the help of their human wives. We just accepted The Guardian’s deal. This could be the exact thing our kingdom needs. Let’s at least wait until she arrives.”
A hush settles over the room. Even my mother stares between Zephyr and me with something akin to sympathy on her face.
Zephyr clenches his jaw, closing himself off to me. There’s nothing in our bond but thinly veiled annoyance. I can usually feel his emotions because of the bond, but he’s been holding back on me. It is not uncommon forthe fae to take multiple partners, which is something Zephyr and I have spoken about a lot. He’s never been opposed to me taking another mate, but he’s vehemently against getting involved with another. I understand why, and though I’ll never voice it to him, I’m concerned he'll start to resent me. He’s been by my side since we were boys. Losing him would be a death sentence.
A flash of green streaks past my head, and a tiny figure lands gracefully on Zephyr’s shoulder. The small sprite pats his ear affectionately, a familiar gesture between them. My half-brother, Finnick, has always felt a kinship with Zephyr. Perhaps it’s because, as one of the few sprites in the kingdom, he understands what it means to be different. Zephyr, an ice fae surrounded by earth fae, knows that feeling all too well. Finnick’s father was my mother’s old pixie friend, who has since passed away. Both have spent their lives as outsiders in one way or another. Even being mated to the king or brother of the king matters little when you are one of a few.
Finnick grins, his voice light with mischief. “Just think, Zeph—if Niko gets another mate, that means you’ll finally have someone to back you up when he’s wrong about something. Let’s face it, he’s wrong a lot.”
Despite the tension in the air, Zephyr smirks. “You’re right. How could I have forgotten about that?”
“Don’t make me flick you, Finnick,” I tease…mostly. My brother would do well with a good flicking, as mischievous as he is. Sprites, offspring of fae and pixies, are known to stir up trouble, but my brother makes it his personal mission to cause chaos and havoc around the castle. It’s mostly in good spirits, except for that one time hewas truly pissed at me and filled my bed with earthworms. I still shudder at the thought of it.
“Boys,” my mother chastises, a warm smile on her face. “Finnick, don’t terrorize your brother. And, Niko, we don’t threaten violence.”
“Since when is flicking violent?”
“Since your big, fat, chubby fingers could split me in two,” Finnick spits, shooting off Zephyr’s shoulder and flying over to our mother. As the younger brother, he’s entirely babied by her. In all fairness, I treat him much the same.
“Big, fat, and chubby all mean the same thing, my little love. Perhaps we need to resume your vocabulary lessons,” my mother says to Finnick. I try to hide my laugh behind a cough but fail because Finnick sticks his tongue out at me. Very mature.
“Even with the arrival of Niko’s new mate, we still need to be prepared for a battle,” Zephyr gets us back on track. The teasing and lighthearted atmosphere quickly disappears as we glance back down at the map. “Our closest allies will be the wolves. We should inform King Alpha Rip that we may need help in securing our borders. We are the last defense before the Nephilim breach Pixie Cove. If things are bad now, they will get a whole hell of a lot worse if they steal the magic.”
“Zephyr is right, sir,” my general, Mason, says. “Without the magic from Pixie Hollow, the Nephilim make a formidable opponent. I fear our chances of survival are?—”
“We’re all gonna die!” Finnick shrieks dramatically, fainting on my mother’s shoulder. He stays down for abeat before picking his head up. “Is that what you were going to say?”
Mason shifts awkwardly, nodding. “Not as dramatic as that, but yes.”
“We at least have eyes in the sky now,” Zephyr continues. “And, no, I don’t mean you, Finnick. Though you’ve been extremely helpful.”
“Thank you. I usually am,” he agrees.
“The dragons have taken to patrolling the sky, watching the Nephilim’s movements. They have the best vantage points of Mescos,” Zephyr says. “Finnick can continue to send word to the dragons as we need.”
I nod and turn toward Mason, my voice steady despite the weight of my question. “The fae have survived numerous attacks from the Nephilim. Can our guard withstand more?”
The first sighting of the Nephilim near our kingdom was just a month ago. Shortly after, our lands began to wither—crops shriveled, soil turned barren, and the lifeblood of our territory drained away. Then came the attacks, swift and relentless, catching us unprepared both times.
From what we’ve gathered, the other kingdoms only suffered sporadic assaults, their encounters with the Nephilim scattered and infrequent. But here? The moment they set foot on our lands, everything changed. Now, we no longer live in a thriving kingdom. We live in a war zone. The Nephilim grow ravenous for victory. The end is drawing nearer, and I fear we are woefully unprepared. The burden is growing heavier to shoulder each day.
My human wife is my last hope of saving my kingdom.
Before anyone around the table can say more, a loud crash erupts from outside the tent, followed by the sounds of men shouting and unsheathing weapons. The flaps of the tent entrance part as a soldier runs in, out of breath. “My kings. General Mason. Lady Thalia?—”
“Enough. Say what you came here to say,” Zephyr barks before the fae can address everyone in the room.
