Vreis stepped up beside Lorcan and clapped him on his back. “We will make them pay for this, my friend.”
Lorcan couldn’t find words. He didn’t think he would be able to speak, even if he had a thought to voice. Medallion or not, the Ice Court had not done this. It was another trap of his father’s, meant to throw the two rival courts into another round of brutal battles. And he had sacrificed all of these innocent fae in order to do it.
He had murdered them. Cadman, Aoiffe, and poor little Elen.
His father was a monster. And Lorcan couldn’t help but think, so was he.
8
“It’s settled then,” Thane said as they sat in The Silver Sword, one of the finest taverns in the district of Toilichte, surrounded by mugs of bitter ale. It was the last time the prince would be revelling for some time, and he was eager to get his fill of drink before he left Tairngire. “On the morrow, we leave for battle. Lads, I dearly hope we make it all through.”
Lorcan clinked his tankard against the others, but he kept mum. He had no intention of joining Thane on the battlefield. At first light, the army planned to commence the journey north on the Rowan Road. When they reached the Shard, the small strip of snow-drenched land that separated the ice and air fae lands, Thane’s warriors would launch their attack. He meant to take the Shard and invade, and then make the kingdom his.
All because the king of the Shadow Court had tricked him into believing the ice fae had attacked first.
Lorcan wanted to tell him. Hedesperatelywanted to tell him. Even if the Air Court won the Shard, so many fae would die in the battle. Lorcan could not bear to have any more blood on his hands. His fingers were already drenched in it.
But every time he tried to speak the words aloud, his mark would pulse with so much pain that he couldn’t even think around it, let alone open his mouth. He’d even tried writing it down, but his fingers would cramp, curling together like horrible gnarled things.
So, Lorcan had decided to try a different tactic. While the army marched north, he would ride ahead and melt the southern end of the Shard with a blazing bonfire. It was made of ice. Surely, it could not withstand such heat. And if Thane’s army could not cross it, the two armies could never collide.
It was a wild and reckless plan, but it was the only one he had.
Thane would no doubt try again, but Lorcan had to hope that he could find a way around his mark by then. One day, he would be free from his father’s commands.
But that day had not yet come.
“To battle!” Thane cried, raising his tankard high.
“To battle,” Lorcan murmured.To it ending before it even begins.
* * *
Lorcan sank low in the tall, whispering grass where the ground was peppered with frozen snow. Just ahead, he could see the border between the two ancient fae realms. Several ice fae were on the southern edge of the Shard, donned in light armor and silver cloaks spun from hoarfrost silk. Their kingdom’s sigil was etched into the undyed leather at their chests, and they were armed with steel.
It had been years since fae could readily journey across the borders of the great fae kingdoms. That would pose a problem.
The Shard itself was a skinny, shiny thing. Made purely of ice, it glistened beneath the glow of the twin moons. It was a full moons night, which promised terrible, dark things. Full moons in Tir Na Nog seemed to bring with them strange tidings indeed.
Lorcan could not help but wonder ifhewas the strange, dark tiding.
His mark had ached the entire journey north. For most of it, he had simply ignored the pain. It had been years since Segonax had first dug the magic-infused ink into his skin, and it had hurt more days than it had not. The dull ache had almost become a part of him now.
The only time it demanded attention was when it ripped through him like dozens of freshly-sharpened blades. So far so good.
He inched through the grass, considering the warriors. There were five in total, all tall and muscular and proud. Their swords were in leather scabbards cinched around their waists. Two held tough wooden shields. One had a bow at his back. They were ready for anything.
He did not want to kill them, but they would die even if he spared them now. Soon, Thane’s army would crest the distant hill, and these five fae would be among the first blood spilled.
Shaking his head, Lorcan pulled an arrow from his back, steadied his aim, and loosed. The arrow arced through the air, whistling against the steady wind. It thunked into the ice archer’s head, felling him instantly.
The warriors jumped to attention. They grabbed their swords and scanned the fields for their attacker. Lorcan nocked another arrow and loosed. It easily hit the closest warrior, blood spurting from his thick neck. That left three, but now they had an idea of where he was.
Lorcan ducked lower in the grass.
One of the shielded warriors held his fingers to his lips and whistled. An owl shot up from the ground, spinning toward the gate on the northern edge of the Shard where more warriors were no doubt waiting.
No, Lorcan muttered to himself. He could not let the owl reach the gates. It was clearly a signal, one meant to alert the others of an impending attack.
