“We have a princess on our side. She’s giving us vital intel from her scouting parties.”
“Alright, good,” I said.
Daxton cleared his throat. “We’ll attack in the valley between the northern peaks, strike Minaeve’s forces head-on.”
I studied the map, tracing the route with a finger. There were advantages here, but also risks. Open terrain, fast-moving enemies, and unpredictable factors at work. I inhaled deeply, knowing that the northern pass would become the arena where we made our final stand.
“And this,” Daxton said, opening his palm.
“What? Is there some type of—” I stilled as a parchment appeared out of thin air before me. I abruptly stood from my seat, my eyes widening as I gazed at my brother. “Your power… Your power has grown? You… you can teleport objects now?”
Daxton nodded with a smug grin.
Gods, this was remarkable.
Skylar chuckled, leaning back in her seat, taking a bite of a pear. “Neat trick, huh?”
“Neat?” I drawled. “Is that really the best description you can muster?”
Skylar stuck her tongue out.
I huffed a laugh. “Point made.”
“I was able to copy this information from the original before it disappeared. You need to read what it says.”
I opened the page and quickly scanned over the contents. I leaned back and rubbed my face, glancing between Skylar and Daxton with utter disbelief.
This was diabolical.
“Well…” I said, letting a slow grin spread. “This changes everything.”
Daxton shot me a pointed look, half warning, half amusement. Skylar’s eyes didn’t move from the map; only her brows lifted as her lips curved in a slight upward tilt.
I let the words hang in the quiet tent. The march south was set. The plan was clear. And yet, despite everything, I had the sense that this game of war was far from over.
Chapter Forty
Daxton Aegaeon
Our forces marched south, leaving Solace behind as we steeled our nerves and sharpened our blades.
The excitement of battle flickered through the camp. Everyone was restless and eager, but there was also another emotion, in equal measure: the heavy dread we all carried. Many of the brothers and sisters walking beside us would not live to see the summer months. The earth below our feet would be stained with the blood of shifters, High Fae, and humans alike, and the Mother and Father above would mourn the loss of their children on both sides.
Lake Carth came into view along the eastern horizon, its waters stretching toward the base of the northern mountains, the same mountains where the hunters tortured Skylar. Rage coiled in my gut as we passed the lake, the peaks looming like a memory that refused to fade. It felt like a lifetime since I’d last laid eyes on those barren lands. Part of me had hoped I’d never have to again.
We continued south, passing the trading post, and settled within the forest north of Kwan and the White Fang Mountains to make our final preparations. The cold’s griphad loosened at last with the snow retreating, yet a lingering chill clung to the early mornings and late evenings.
I felt that same kiss of cold in my veins from my magic stirring beneath my skin. For weeks, I’d used my powers to transport our forces to the mainland, but I had kept my ice magic tightly leashed, burrowing deeper into the core of my abilities as I prepared for the battle to come.
Closing my eyes and reaching out with my senses, I could feel them beyond the river. The magical essence of the dark creatures of the former wilt lurking within the White Fang Mountains was undeniable.
The princess’s intel placed their camp ahead in a clearing in the mountain pass. She claimed Taran and Minaeve’s forces were armed and ready for battle. The plan was simple: march over the river, north of Kwan and Azela, then launch our attack.
“Daxton,” Skylar said softly. “Go. I’ll meet you at the front.”
I turned to my mate and pressed a kiss to her brow before stepping back and teleporting away.
The world snapped back into place as my boots hit solid wood. TheOpal’sdeck stretched beneath me. White-painted planks gleamed like bleached bone beneath the late-afternoon sun. Around us, Fjorda’s fleet bobbed in tight formation, their sails emblazoned with the sigil of a sword with a bow laid across it, fire and ice blending as one.
