Chapter One
Avari
Stepping into the portal room, my mind spun with a hundred ways this could go wrong. Magic had a nasty tendency to complicate things.
My mother stole the grimoire, a book passed down through the Nighborn dynasty—my family. Not only had she once again laid claim to something that didn’t belong to her, but the weaves described within were dangerous enough that even the Lord of the Shadow Isles hurried to retrieve it.
Neither Miriam nor Alec elaborated on what exactly it contained. As if they feared speaking it aloud. The fact that the queen went to enough trouble to reveal her blood-witch nature to snatch it meant it would help in her nefarious plans. Whatever they were, nobody could say for certain beyond the annihilation of Fire Fae.
Distracted by worry and dark thoughts, we entered the portal chamber in silence. River's battalion trailed behind us at a respectful distance, their heavy footsteps echoing off the stone walls as they marched towards a battle for their king.
I envied them.
All they saw was a devoted ruler, willing to go above and beyond for his people. I wished my perception of the intimidating fire-breather hadn’t been so tainted. Looking at him made my chest tighten, and when his gaze met mine, ice spread through my veins. His jaw flexed as if he felt it too. Was that how it was going to be now?
River strode to the control pad and set the destination to my old prison. Returning there felt like a punishment, as though I were willingly walking towards something I was utterly unprepared for.
Before he could finalise it, the runes flickered as a ripple of magic tore through the chamber, and the portal flared to life.
Stepping back at once, River and Alec unsheathed their weapons and unleashed their powers, readying to strike as a figure in a navy-blue cloak emerged, his eyes promising trouble.
In a voice laced with aristocratic arrogance, he accused, ‘King Dracon of Fogoya, the Elders have been informed that you are harbouring unregistered fae in your court.’
A cold knot formed in my stomach. Trouble had found us faster than expected.
‘Councillor Ramonds, pleasure as always,’ River muttered through clenched teeth, flames briefly flickering along his knuckles before fading to nothing as he slipped his hands into the pockets of his trousers.
I tore my eyes away, focusing on my own fire struggling against my restraints, as the absence of his felt jarring.
Alec’s invisible shadows still curled around us, swirling around our feet, ready for anything.
‘I have been informed of at least three unregistered suspects. Would any of you care to explain?’ He studied the faces of my newfound family members, his own remaining unreadable.
I might not have known my family for long, but I wouldn’t hesitate if we needed to fight this man.
It was my father who spoke, his voice stern and unrelenting. A warning dressed in politeness. ‘My people have no obligation to register with your council. Our land doesn’t fall within your jurisdiction.’
The man chuckled, though the sound lacked humour. Clutching something behind the long cloak, he quipped, ‘All lands except the Mortal fall within our juris—’
‘Not ours,’ father cut in, an irritation plain on his face. ‘It chooses its governor, and it sure as hell didn’t choose a bunch of men in dresses.’
The Elder’s face fell as he struggled to find words. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Oh, you should. Your little entrance is costing us valuable time to stop the queen whoiswithin your jurisdiction from wreaking havoc on the realm.’
‘What land are you from? And what queen?’ the councillor demanded, though the wheels of his mind had obviously begun turning as he crossed his arms over his chest and lifted his chin to assess us once again.
‘Harper of Ortensia!' Alec’s incredulous tone snapped the man from his contemplations. ‘Or did you expect the meek Queen Victoria to cause trouble?’
Of course, the Elder knew which queen he meant; the Air Kingdom had always stayed clear of any trouble. The political correctness in this case was useless.
‘I will be the one asking questions,’ he barked. The offence in his tone didn’t bode well. I mimicked his stance in preparation for the worst.
The Lord of the Isles ran a hand through his hair before resting it on the blade at his hip. ‘As I said, you have no dominion over me, nor my family.’ His gaze hardened. ‘Say what you want to say and leave, because we’ve gotplaces to be.’
River shuffled next to me, his face tight, his eyebrows scrunched over a cold gaze, and it dawned on me that father should have let him handle the situation. It was his court, and matters of politics were his.
The room filled with so much power and magic that it felt moments away from bursting at the seams, lashing between us like a whip, taut and on the verge of snapping.
