I glanced down at the stones beneath my feet, where the violent shakes were growing in frequency. Even as we’d stood here gathering the gemstones, they’d gotten so much worse. Dread crept through me. “How long has it been since we left Albyria? I’ve lost track of the days.”
“About a month,” Kalen replied.
Nellie gasped. “A month? Then the gods will wake any moment now, won’t they? Andromeda could be here now.” When no one answered, she shook her head and started backing toward the door. “You can’t take them to this other city, Toryn. You have to come with us, back to Dubnos.”
The ground suddenly bucked, and the stone cracked wide. Nellie grabbed my arm and held on tight as the four of us stood there in the depths of the Keep, waiting for the tremor to subside. It took a good ten minutes for it to fade, and even then, I could still feel the vibrations through the soles of my leather boots.
“We must go.” Kalen grabbed the final sack, and moved to the door and yanked it open. “Toryn, your people are welcome in Dubnos. And you know I’d rather you be by my side than anywhere else in this godforsaken world. But it’s your choice, and you should do what you must.”
Pain flashed through Toryn’s eyes as he followed Kalen into the corridor that led up the stairwell to the rest of the castle. As we climbed, the floor kept shaking, and the stone threatened to crumble down around us.
But when we reached the top of the stairwell and pushed out onto the main floor, an eerie stillness whispered through the rest of the castle.
Here, we could no longer feel the shaking from the great depths. It was as if nothing was happening at all. The people of this city had no idea what danger lurked in the caves beneath their feet, the evil that was awakening and readying itself to swallow them whole.
“The Great Hall,” Nellie whispered. “They’re all in there feasting. They have no idea.”
We took off at a run and raced through the silent corridors. The further we got from the Keep, the less I felt that all-consuming darkness that pulsed from the cave. The gods weren’t awake—not yet. But I did not think we had long before they broke through their stone prisons.
Panting with exertion, I followed the others into the Great Hall. Someone had started to play the flute, and another fae had grabbed a handful of drums. Music swirled through the air, upbeat and full of hope, mingling with laughter, booming voices, and the magic of the celebration. My heart ached to gaze upon the happy faces. They’d just survived another storm, and they thought they were safe, at least for a little while longer.
They had no idea what was coming for them.
No one paid us much attention as we strode toward the raised dais where Fenella still lounged in her chair, her feet kicked up on the table beside a brooding Caedmon. She gave us a wry grin as we approached, but then her eyes flashed across our faces, and her smile died. She lowered her feet to the floor and stood. “Toryn, you look like death. What’s happening?”
Toryn leaned in and whispered into her ear. It was a risk speaking so publicly like this, but the storm fae would soon find out, regardless. When he was done filling her in, she sat hard in her chair, lifted the bottle of fion from the table, and gulped it down until there was nothing left of it.
“Fuck me,” she breathed before passing another bottle to Caedmon and filling him in on what she’d learned. The silver-haired fae paled at her words.
The Prince of the Kingdom of Storms gazed out at his people, his jaw hard. But his eyes were soft, unlike the eyes of the mother he’d long believed had hardened her heart toward everyone, including him. He ran his hand along the top of his head, the strands longer and wavier now. He looked less like a warrior and more like all those regular storm fae down there just trying to live their lives.
Just trying to survive.
“You’ve got this, my old friend,” Kalen murmured.
Toryn nodded, and before our very eyes, we watched him change. It started with his chin—he held it just a tad higher. His shoulders were next. Squaring them, lifting them, filling his chest with breath, he stood half a hand taller than he had moments before. He ran his palms down the front of his tunic and then centered his belt. Nellie inched in, pressed up onto her toes, and then clasped something onto his lapel. When she pulled back, the emerald gleam of his kingdom’s sigil matched his own hardening eyes.
The Toryn I’d met that day in the dungeons beneath Dubnos had worn an easy smile and carried lightness in his eyes. But now the weight of entire kingdom had settled onto his shoulders. And he did not bend.
With a quick breath, Toryn lifted a chalice from the table and clinked his fork against the glass. The fae at the table nearest us immediately hushed, and then a murmur spread through the crowd. Within moments, the entire room went silent. Every eye in the Great Hall was aimed on Toryn’s unyielding face. I gazed across the crowd, at the curious yet rapt expressions. Despite turning down his chance to become his mother’s heir, Toryn was their prince, and they would listen to him.
He’d always been their prince.
It was a good thing Owen was not here.
“Good people of Gailfean,” Toryn began, his voice booming through the vast hall. “You have always been a strong city made of strong fae who suffer the storms and survive. And you’ve just survived another.”
A celebratory cheer rippled through the room. Tankards clanked, beer sloshed, hands were thrown into the air. The uneasy sense of doom curdled in my stomach, but it wasn’t from the gods down in the caverns this time. It came from the aching regret at seeing the happiness in all these fae. They thought Toryn was making a speech of triumph to mark the occasion of surviving another storm without a single casualty. The people of Gailfean were safe until another one hit, and just like this one, they would face it head-on and make it through. They always did.
But their lives were about to be irrevocably changed. I wished there was something we could do, some way to keep those gods locked up tight. But there was no way, not unless Niamh, Alastair, and Val found the answers in the human kingdoms. And they had not sent word in days.
There was no option but to run. A tear spilled down my cheek.
Toryn gave the fae a moment before he pounded a fist on the table, a heavy, dark sound that sent another hush through the crowd. I saw his throat bob. It was the only piece of his kingly mask that gave way.
“I’m afraid that a greater threat has arrived, and I need everyone to stay silent until I tell you to move,” he said, his voice growing hard. The fae shifted on their seats, and a few gasped. “You may have seen the comet in the sky. It foretells of—”
“The comet is no longer in the sky, Your Grace,” one of the ladies sitting at the head table murmured up at him. “I went onto the balcony a moment ago for some fresh air. The comet is gone. It’s not there.”
