“Your Thane has run away, Eislyn. A king who would abandon his people, for whatever reason, does not deserve his title, his people’s loyalty, and especially not that seat. It’s either that or he’s dead.” Lord Morcant leaned forward, his eyes sparking. “Your father will feel the same, I’m afraid. And, as none of his daughters actually ended up marrying into that court, they are certainly not our allies now.”
Eislyn gasped, shaking her head in disbelief. Vreis placed a comforting hand on her shoulder and squeezed tight. His touch emboldened her. “I can’t believe what you’re saying. What Aengus has done iswrong.”
“Oh, he’s in the wrong but for not the reasons you think.” Her uncle tapped his chin. “You see, part of the reason we’re all so shocked to see you, my dear, is...well, it appears Aengus has been pretending tohave you.”
“What?” Shock hit her like a slap on the cheek.
“It seems he has a pretender by his side. A girl with silver hair. All this time, we’ve thought he had you trapped inside that castle. A prisoner in a gilded cage, forced to convince the air fae lords to join his side.” Lord Morcant sat back in his chair. “And it’s working. Many have already taken their armies to Tairngire. They’re preparing for more war. War against us.”
Anger charging through her, she stood. “Well then surely you see why he must be stopped at once! How can you possibly believe my father wouldn’t agree?”
“Your father is tired of war, child. He wants peace. As soon as he finds you safe, he will hole up inside that castle of his until the day he dies.”
“No, he won’t,” she said, her voice rising. “He’ll do something. Maybe not war, but he’ll do something.”
“Butsomethingis not why you came here, is it, child?” he asked, eyebrows winging upward. “You want to see your lover avenged.”
“He is not my lover,” she said, her voice trembling. “And there is nothing to avenge. Thane has gone somewhere safe, I’m certain of it. And he will return to take his crown and then—”
“Guards.” Lord Morcant stood and flicked his fingers at a dark figure lurking in the doorframe. “Take Eislyn to the secure chambers at the top of Frost Tower. Take the other one to the dungeons.”
Eislyn jumped to her feet, her heart jumping wildly in her chest. Shock and fear battled for dominance, chasing away the hope and relief she’d felt only moments before.
“Cousin, what—” The guards clasped her arms just as two others bustled into the room and dragged a stone-faced Vreis away. Her guard, her companion, her friend…he didn’t make a sound. He merely stared at her, a haunted goodbye flashing in his mis-matched eyes.
“What are you doing?” she screamed, yanking at the terrible grip on her arms.
“Don’t worry, child. I’m not going to hurt a hair on that pretty silver head of yours. Once all of this is over, I’ll send you on home, safely to Cos.”
“My father will never forgive you for this,” she hissed.
He gave her a blank stare. “He’s forgiven me for far worse. The Air Court is our enemy, and we don’t need a bloody alliance to make things right. With the Selkirks gone and near forgotten, now is the time to take the kingdom as our own. Cos will make a good emperor once he snaps out of this anti-war business. I daresay those air fae will likely love him far more than Sloane Selkirk, that terrible creature they used to call their king.”
“You can’t do this,” she whispered, tears blurring her vision.
“I can. And I will,” he said evenly. “Settle in, Your Highness. You’re going to be here a good long while.”
45
Reyna
They approached Findius from the west. If the High King had scouts searching the wastes for any sign of his son—or the missing assassins—they would expect to find him striding through the ashen fields just south of the city. West meant journeying the long way around, and it took twice as long. They were forced to cross another patch of mountains and wade through a thick swamp. Its stench clogged Reyna’s nose with rot.
The tension was just as thick. Lorcan’s anger simmered beneath the surface, but it was nothing more than a blanket on top of his pain. Reyna had hurt him, the last thing she’d ever wanted to do, but he’d seemed to accept her choice.
He’d stopped questioning her about her decision, and he was no longer demanding that she return to the pit so that she could undo it. But, of course, he’d scarcely said a word to her at all. The only conversation involved Nollaig, but only with one of them at a time. If Reyna was talking to the cloaked fae, Lorcan kept his mouth shut. Reyna tended to do the same if it was the other way around. All of her words had left her. There was nothing else she could say.
As they crept through the barren fields, they spotted smoke on the distant, hazy red horizon. The king had lit the fire pits again, it seemed. What was he anticipating now? But as they drew ever closer, they began to see that it did not look like the fire pits at all. Findius itself was on fire.
“What in the name of the gods is happening now?” Nollaig muttered, her voice holding the same weariness that Reyna felt in her very bones. It had been a very long and draining journey, and chaos was not what she had hoped to see upon their return.
Her gaze drifted toward the eastern harbor. There were a cluster of ships there. She needed to grab one and flee before the king spotted her.
“Look.” Nollaig pointed at a flicker of green at the edge of the city wall. “Wood Court banners.”
Lorcan pressed his lips together. “They’re attacking the city. Hundreds of low fae will be trapped inside. And the wood king knows it.”
A terrible ache surrounded Reyna’s heart. This was it. The moment they were parted. “They need your help. Only two thousand warriors survived the Ruin, and there is no telling how many the wood king has brought with him. Your father is likely holed up in his fortress. He won’t come out, not for anything. You need to go to your people.”
