“What about that one?” the orange-haired warrior barked as he pointed to a cowering archer, hiding inside of her tent. Her brilliant green eyes were wide with fight, her hand clutching a gem laced around her neck with a golden chain.
The world shifted sideways beneath Reyna as she stared at the girl. She was, of course, not guilty of murdering anyone at all. None of these wood fae were. She could not let someone else die for her crimes, enemy or not.
Reyna wet her lips. “Sure. I’ll get her while you carry on. Where am I taking her?”
“To the fire pit.” He jogged two steps back. “Be quick. Our Highness has not fed in days.”
Her stomach tumbled over itself as she shot the leader a wan smile. As soon as he turned away, she rushed to the frightened fae’s side. Her green eyes welled with tears, a pool that reflected Reyna’s hardened face right back at her. The fae scuttled back, shivering.
“Please. I don’t want to die,” she whispered.
“I’m not going to let you die,” Reyna hissed, glancing over her shoulder to be certain no one else was nearby. “I need you to listen to me, okay?”
Eyes widening, the wood fae nodded.
“I’m not going to take you to the king, but they’ll figure out soon enough I don’t have you.” Reyna laid a gentle hand on the wood fae’s trembling arm. “You need to wait in here. Count to one hundred. And then make a move for the forest. Don’t go in a straight line, and don’t walk fast. Pretend like you’re not hiding. You’ll be harder to spot that way.”
The wood fae nodded eagerly, and then swallowed hard, her throat bobbing. “Why are you helping me?”
“Because you don’t deserve to die for a crime you did not commit,” Reyna said, taking a step back. “Now, go. I’ll hold them off for as long as I can.”
A scream ripped through the camp. Breath tight in her throat, Reyna ducked out of the tent. Warriors jogged through camp, their eyes locked on the distant horizon. Reyna followed their gaze, and her entire body froze like a lake on a deep winter day.
A bonfire raged near the High King’s tent. The flames curled up toward the sky, roaring along with the cheering fae. Five female warriors stood beside the conflagration. Their heads were bowed; their arms were locked behind their backs. The High King held a sixth. His mouth pulsed against her neck as her eyes rolled back into her head. Her body slumped against him like a rag-doll. Blood dripped down onto her collarbone.
When the High King ripped his mouth away, Reyna stumbled back as though she’d been punched. Two sharp canines poked out from his top lip, glistening with fresh blood. His eyes were wild and red. His cheeks flushed with color, but the rest of his skin looked as though it had been blanched to match the white stone city of Craobhan.
He tossed the body into the fire and then motioned toward the line of warriors trembling beneath his gaze. “Next.”
Rage rose up inside her like an iron fist. He couldn’t get away with this. Someone had todosomething. But every single wood fae in the camp seemed to be under some kind of thrall. They stared at their king with glassy eyes, jaws slack.
Reyna patted the dagger hidden in her waistband. If no one else would do a damn thing about their murderous king, then there was nothing to it. She’d have to stop him herself.
11
Mariel
“Aletter has arrived for you. It has the seal of the Sea Court on it.” Lord Neil caught Mariel in the throne room, launching daggers at stuffed sacks lining the wall. Sweat beaded on her brow, and her entire body ached. Every morning at dawn, she took to training. One day, she would need her skills. It seemed that day was coming sooner than she’d thought.
She turned to Lord Neil, who had donned a golden cloak clasped together with a broach engraved with the Dalais house symbol: a golden crown perched on top of a bed of bones. He’d taken to wearing the damn thing all the time now, though he still refused to call her anything but Mariel.
Not until the Seat of Power was hers.
“Let me guess,” she said dryly. “They think we’re too stupid to have spotted them circling the waters outside the Bay of Wind.”
Sighing, she took the parchment and unfurled it with trembling fingers. Despite her bravado, she was nervous about the Sea Court. They’d stayed out of the war all this time, building their ships and training their warriors. They were a force to be reckoned with, and they had taken Thane’s side, no doubt. He was Imogen’s son. He was family.
Her eyes widened as she read the words. With a laugh, she crumpled the letter in her fist.
Lord Neil frowned. “Well? What’s it say?”
Mariel’s heart thumped hard. She didn’t know if she should tell the lord the truth. He had come to her aid when the Grand Alderman had seized the castle for his own, when Thane was missing, and Imogen Selkirk was dead. What would he say if he knew therealHigh King was on his way?
She’d have to speak as much of the truth as she could, all without saying Thane’s name.
“They want us to surrender,” she said.
He frowned. “Ha! Why would we do such a thing?”
