Gailfean, the capital city of the storm fae realm, the largest and most prosperous of them all. A great wall embedded with onyx gemstones circled the maze of teal-roofed buildings, far higher on the western side. And from the strong breeze blowing at our backs, I understood why. It was a protective shield against the storms as much as it was against any invading army.
All the buildings were hewn from glossy stone the color of bark, including the towering castle and its five spires, which rose like knotty fingers. Moss and vines crept along every surface, determinedly clinging on like residents of the city themselves. It made Gailfean look as though it had sprouted from the ground—a forest of buildings, beautiful and rich and green.
But underneath it all was an eerie feeling that scratched down my spine.
I glanced at Kalen as we slowed and veered toward a lower portion of the wall—on the southern side—where a wooden gate was guarded by spear-bearing warriors. His face betrayed none of his thoughts, but I could still feel dread from him somehow, as if it raced down that invisible string between us.
Walking into the enemy’s lair was one thing, but there was something more to this, somethingwrong. I couldn’t pinpoint what the feeling meant, but the closer we grew to the city, the harder it dug its way into my skin.
Finley greeted the guards and barked a command. Within moments, the gates opened like the gaping maw of a hungry beast, and the storm fae led us through and into its belly, their city. When the last of us had ridden inside, the wooden gate slammed behind us, and the heavy onyx drawbar thundered into place. I had the eerie sensation that we’d just heard the hammer of our own deaths.
* * *
Vines and wet moss carpeted the castle hallways, sucking at our boots as our party followed Finley toward the Great Hall, where Queen Tatiana would be waiting. He’d sent word ahead, via a raven, about our arrival, and apparently, she had not deemed us worthy of a greeting in the courtyard. Toryn was the only reason we weren’t dead, but she clearly detested her son.
She’d tried to have him killed, after all, a fact that had been puzzling me on the thundering ride through the storm fae fields. When I’d first met Kalen, we’d gone on a journey through the misty wastes to find my family, and the storm fae had attacked Toryn. Very specifically, it had seemed. They’d blasted him with their elite powers and then dragged his body behind their horses.
It was a miracle he’d survived.
We approached the looming oak doors, etched with images of the sun, the moon, and the stars. Finley threw open the doors and strode inside, his hands tucked behind his back. A narrow emerald carpet stretched out before us, along a part of the stone floor that had been cleared, between the moss, the vines, and the flowers sprouting through the cracks. The air was heavy and wet against my cheeks as I took in the sight of Queen Tatiana lounging on a throne made of thorns.
With bright, clear eyes, she stared at our party before her razor-edged gaze landed on Toryn. Something dark flashed across her face, but then she smiled and stood. Instead of a gown, she wore rich black trousers that hugged her legs and a tunic that matched, topped with an emerald vest trimmed in gold. A necklace dangled from her dainty throat—golden and glittering and holding an onyx gemstone.
I nearly stumbled as my breath caught in the back of my throat. Queen Tatiana of the Kingdom of Storms wore an onyx gemstone that was similar to the one King Oberon had carried with him until the last moment he’d drawn breath. Tension pounding through my skull, I glanced up at Kalen just as his hand whispered against my back.
A message—I know. I see it, too.
Could it be the same kind of stone? Did it hold another god? Was that where they all were—trapped in gemstones scattered throughout the world? If so, where were the other three? The stories always said that the gods had been banished, and Andromeda was the only one who’d been trapped here. How much of that was true?
What would happen if Queen Tatiana was another servant, another fae being used like Oberon? And we’d walked right into her castle.
Queen Tatiana dragged a great sword from where she’d propped it up against her throne. It was almost as tall as she was. She propped her elbow on the hilt and crossed her ankles, flashing a vicious pair of teeth at us, her canines sharp and gleaming.
From beside me, Nellie let out a low growl.
Stiffening, I looked at Tatiana’s hands. Black claws extended from her fingertips.
Claws and fangs. She had them, too.
“Toryn,” she drawled when we finally reached the end of the carpet, her voice thick and her accent heavy. “My long-lost son. How many years has it been since you’ve come to see your mother?”
“I haven’t kept count,” he said flatly.
“Three hundred eighty-one.”Her voice was hard. “Ihavekept count, you see.”
“You always did.”
She flashed her teeth again.
Finley cleared his throat, shifting uneasily. “Your Majesty, I found them in the war camp just near the border, sniffing around.”
Fenella scoffed. “We weren’tsniffing around.”
“Silence,” Queen Tatiana said with a glare. “In my castle, you will not speak out of turn.”
Fenella looked like she’d not only speak out of turn if she damn well pleased, but she’d also take her twin daggers and bury them in Queen Tatiana’s eyes. Frankly, I didn’t blame her. I was feeling a little itchy for a fight myself, as if the angry, rage-filled beast inside me had roused from its temporary slumber. Ever since we’d left Itchen, I’d felt peace from the boiling in my veins, from the ever-present thoughts of vengeance and violence and hating those who’d wronged me.
But stepping into the enemy’s halls, seeing that necklace, and remembering exactly what we faced had brought it all back. Plus, I just plain didn’t like the smug look on her face.
