Then we moved on, trailing down the other side of the mountain and toward the border that would take us into the Kingdom of Storms. It was from the sloping mountain path that curved through the Gaoth Pass that I could finally set eyes on the lands unknown to me until now. Through the misty veil, a bright morning sun beamed down on fields of pink and purple flowers, and tall grass swayed in an insistent breeze. Green was everywhere. On and on and on it went for as far as I could see. The only mark on the brilliant land was an empty war camp at the base of the mountain, where tattered tents and charred fire pits marred the green.
“I thought there’d be more…well, storms,” I said to Kalen, who rode quietly by my side. He’d been increasingly quiet the closer we drew to the border, and I couldn’t help but wonder if it had something to do with the story Toryn had told me.
“There’s always wind,” he said, his voice as tense as his body. “The storms occur randomly and without warning, though not this close to the border. I’ve never seen one happen in that valley for all the years I’ve stared down at it from the battlements above.”
I tipped back my head to gaze up at the towering mountain, where Dubnos perched on top of a large cliff. The castle was a dark smudge hidden in the mists.
“When we cross that border,” Kalen said after a moment, “I need you to stay by my side. The storm fae are expert archers. We might not see them before they attack.”
A chill tickled the base of my spine, and I glanced over my shoulder, where Toryn and Nellie were deep in conversation just behind us. “What about Toryn?”
Kalen shot me a tense glance. “He told you then.”
“What happens if she tries to make him fight again?
“There’s no question of it. She will try. But it’s never going to happen. I won’t let it.”
Something told me it wouldn’t be quite that easy, but I didn’t say it out loud. I didn’t need to. I could tell by the darkness swirling in his eyes that he knew it, too.
As we continued down the path and through the foothills, I thought back on everything I knew about the Kingdom of Storms. Like most things, it was very little. Oberon had made it seem as though they were barely surviving, just like us. Just like everyone except for the monstrous Mist King who lurked beyond the bridge, ready to gobble up anyone who dared cross into his lands. The Mist King had destroyed everything, after all. The light fae realm, the human kingdoms beyond the sea. Why wouldn’t he have also destroyed the Kingdom of Storms? They were weak and powerless and hardly worth considering, according to Oberon.
But I’d looked into the eyes of those storm fae when they’d trapped Kalen and me in the Itchen castle. They were nothing if not powerful. Andromeda’s essence had enhanced those powers then, but I’d seen enough to know they were a deadly force of nature even without her help. And their eyes…there had been something terribly wrong about their eyes.
All that was on my mind when we finally crossed the border—when we stepped out of the mists and into the warmth of the sun. Exhaling from the soothing heat of it all, I tilted my face toward the light and basked in the glow of it. The sun, the beautiful, glorious sun. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed it.
“Oh, in the name of light,” Fenella whispered.
I glanced over at where she stood with her arms thrown out on either side of her. She’d closed her eyes and dropped back her head. And for the first time since I’d met her, a genuine smile brightened her face, erasing all the tension, all the anger, all the despair. It was easy to forget she was a light fae at times and that Endir had once existed in the Kingdom of Light. She knew the sun, and yet it must have been centuries since she’d felt its warm rays on her skin.
Kalen smiled fondly at her, and then glanced at Toryn, his brow furrowing as he took in his old friend’s tense and wary face. To him, the sun was not a thing to celebrate and enjoy. It meant he was home.
“Come on,” Kalen said with an eye on the surrounding hills, “let’s get moving.”
The smattered war camp lay before us, silent and empty and deadly still, as if the wind around us had been sucked out by the mist pulsing at the edge of the veil. As we walked through it, past the cold fire pits and flattened tents, a chilly dread—the same as before—tickled the base of my spine. I gazed around, my shoulders tensing, and braced myself for signs of the dead. But the camp was empty, and there wasn’t a single body anywhere.
“Your Majesty,” Caedmon called out. “Didn’t you say you battled the army camped here?”
“I’m not sure ‘battle’ is the right word for what I did, Caedmon,” he said quietly.
When I’d been trapped in Oberon’s dungeons, the storm fae army had camped at the base of the mountains where Dubnos stood, readying themselves to sack the city. They’d been staging multiple attacks against the Kingdom of Shadow for weeks, even crossing the border at times. Kalen, desperate to end the threat against his people and to reach me before Oberon bound me to his will, had aimed his brutal power on this camp. It had killed them all.
But the only evidence anyone had ever been here was the tents and the blackened fire pits and that eerie sensation creeping along my back.
“Do you feel that?” I whispered to Kalen.
He nodded as we passed another cluster of tents. And then he suddenly stiffened. It was the only warning before dozens of storm fae stood from the swaying grass, their bows taut, their arrows trained on us.
Sixteen
Ruari
The rebuilding of Albyria had only just begun when I’d received a fucking summons from one of Kalen Denare’s lapdogs. I had been inclined to ignore it. My birth mother needed me. All the Crones did, especially the one we’d found wandering alone in the mountains. And there was still so much to do if I wanted to lead the city back to a time of prosperity, happiness, and health. We needed to clean up the streets and rebuild the homes and scour everything with soap. Repeatedly.
For the first time, I truly understood why my father had depended upon the Teine humans to do much of the laborious work. The fae were useless at it. Of course, that was likely my father’s fault as well. They weren’t used to hard work. Every single step took days longer than it should have. At the rate we were going, Albyria would be a working city again in a hundred years’ time.
Nevertheless, Gaven’s message had been quite an intriguing one, so much so that I’d decided to make the trek to Endir two days ago. Now I stood in some kind of meeting hall, along with a handful of my own warriors. It was a small space just behind the Great Hall where purple banners decorated the drab stone, the mask-crown symbol of Endir etched in threads of gold. They were proud of their heritage here, despite having been a part of the Kingdom of Shadow for a mere four hundred years.
A small fae sat at an oak table with his leather boots propped on its glossy surface, surveying me with keen silver eyes. He threaded his fingers beneath his chin, each one encircled by glittering rings that contrasted with his dark brown skin. I’d heard of Gaven from my father. One of the Mist Guard, he’d once traded in secrets that helped lead to the downfall of the Kingdom of Light. He’d been loyal to Kalen Denare even before Kalen Denare was his king.
