CHAPTER 39

I stood before the faded mirror, fingers tracing the pink, puckered scar of Althea's handprint upon my stomach. Every day I found myself looking for the scar Tarron had left me when his blade of light cut clean through me, but that was gone now, only the harsh memory of it a scar in my mind.

They offered to remove it, but I chose to keep it. As a reminder, more than anything else, that trust always came with a price.

Erix stepped behind me, hands reaching around my side for the shirt that was left unbuttoned. "Tell me what is bothering you, little bird."

I let him do the buttons up, fingers moving with ease as he started at my collar and moved down towards the waistband of the dark trousers I wore. "Even now, I feel like an imposter. About to face down a crowd of people, half of whom look at me with hate and the rest with an admiration I don't feel as though I deserve."

"You should care little for what they think of you." My skin shivered as his knuckles brushed the firmness of my stomach. "They will come to see you for what you are. They do not have a choice whether they accept you as the king you are now, for there is nothing more certain than that fact."

A king . He'd come to remind me daily, interchanging my nickname as frequently as he did his underwear. Little bird . King . I hadn't decided on which one made my skin shiver more.

"I might've stopped the ruination they had planned, but it is clear the tension has not dissipated as we hoped for. King Daron has made that obvious." I turned to face Erix without breaking the band of his arms. Once again, my mind went to my father, and I felt as though I had been stabbed all over again.

Erix looked down upon me with the same expression he'd given me when he found me standing, numb but alive, in the expanse of snow days ago, with an expression of relief and disbelief. It was as though he'd expected to find my broken, dead body against the ground. He never admitted it, but I knew he looked at me as though I was made from glass and would break at any given moment. In truth, I wasn't the delicate one. Not anymore. I could feel a power far greater than what I'd previously experienced. It lingered within my blood, my bones, every morsel of my being. I was winter, and it was me. Cold, unrelenting and never-ending. The power, although welcome, was frightening. But its presence ensured that I could keep myself safe.

A power I needed now. For my father. To get him back.

Erix, on the other hand, was unsafe. King Daron's petition for his head intensified with each passing day. It would only be a matter of time for that to be forced in some manner or another.

"Daron –" Erix never provided the man a title "– can waste his breath with his wants and requirements. I told you, and the Cedarfall Court has made it clear that I'm not to be tried for Tarron's death."

"You were merely doing what a personal guard is required to do," I repeated the same statement he'd told me over and over. My fear was for him to be taken, but I felt guilty for making Erix feel the need to settle my nerves even though the Oakstorm Court, or what was left of it, wanted to see him dead.

"Precisely." He pressed a kiss upon my forehead. I allowed myself a moment to think of nothing but his touch. "Now, as your personal guard, I suggest you finish getting changed quickly before the wrath of Althea is put upon us for being late."

I slipped from his hold, tucking the shirt into my trousers as Erix reached for the cloaked jacket that waited for me to put it on. "What if that's the whole point?"

"You cannot hide from them forever." Erix beckoned for me to extend my arms so he could thread them through the jacket.

"Not even for one more night?"

Looking back into the mirror, I watched as Erix brushed his hands down the material of the jacket. His touch was caring. His focus was entirely on making sure I looked the part that I was now required to play.

King Robin Icethorn.

"It will be a quick evening. The Passing was rather interrupted, and it is tradition for the court to acknowledge the handing over of control to the following season. It's a bunch of pointless conversations with food and drink, but tradition is tradition, and soon enough, it will be you needing to host the same festivities as the cycle proceeds anew."

"I'm out of my depth," I admitted, admiring the stunning craftsmanship of the outfit Eroan had made for me. The trousers were dark black, matching the colouring of my hair and eyes. The jacket was light and allowed movement. Silver and white threading twisted across the deep navy of the material, the imagery of mountains hidden among the design. All that was missing was the final decoration that I'd put off wearing for as long as I could.

"Then allow me to keep you afloat," Erix said. "No one expects you to proceed through your future blindly. Eroan is not the only member of your court who survived. Soon enough, you will have a court full of those willing to help, urging to see you succeed."

"And an equal number of people who still wish me dead."

Briar hadn't returned since Althea had last seen her. I'd come to learn that the threat of the Children of the Asp was as real as the human Hunters who'd still been seen sweeping through the Wychwood border.

Issues for tomorrow. But issues nevertheless.

A knock at the door surprised us before a freckled face peeped around it with a smile so wide it brought one of my own. "I do hope I'm not interrupting anything… again ."

My cheeks warmed as I greeted Althea. Gyah followed into the room after her, unleashing a string of apologies. "Believe me, I tried to keep her out. There is only so much I can do to stop a Cedarfall."

Althea threw her hands up in defeat. "I would have left you to it, but there is a room full of important people waiting for you to arrive. The longer you make them wait, the more I have to have silly conversations to inflate the egos of those who crave it."

"I told you…" Erix muttered out the corner of his mouth.

Althea brushed past Erix, providing him with a friendly snarl which spurred a laugh from all of us. "I admit, I am both jealous and apologetic that you have to wear this thing."

I watched as she moved to the side dresser, reaching for the large square box that waited. It had been left closed since Eroan brought it to me. He'd been rather emotional, thanking me for the opportunity and expressing how he tried to keep the likeness to the one Mother had worn.

Althea reached for the lid and carefully lifted it open. Part of me wanted to ask her to stop, as if it was her pulling the crown free from the velvet-lined box that would make this all real, not the unimaginable power rushing through me or knowing that I would soon leave for the Icethorn Court once again. No, it was the crown I was to wear that solidified this all into reality.

"Is it really necessary for me to wear it?" It was beautiful. Seeing it in her hands, besides the small glimpse I'd stolen when Eroan gave it to me, was breathtaking. The crown was crafted on a band of white gold. All around the circlet were tall, sharp spikes reminiscent of the frozen tops of mountains. It glowed like icicles capturing the first light of morning. It could've been wielded as a weapon itself, the tips of each spike so sharp even Althea carried it to me with care.

"May I?" she asked softly, standing before me. The room was silent, albeit the thudding of my heart in my chest was loud enough for them all to hear.

"If you have to," I replied, rolling my eyes as small nervous laughter escaped me.

Althea nodded, lifting her hands above my head. Slowly, she lowered the crown upon my head, pushing the dark wisps of my hair flat to my head and keeping them in place. I expected it to be heavy but was surprised to see Althea's hands back by her side. Carefully I reached up to feel the cold metal, just to confirm it was sitting upon my head.

"So," I asked, aware of Gyah, Althea and Erix all staring at me with wide, unblinking eyes. "How do I look?"

It was Erix who replied, clearing his throat as though he had removed himself from a trance. "You look as you should."

"Just like a king," Althea said.

"An Icethorn," Gyah confirmed, bowing her head first, and then the rest of them following.

"Exactly," Erix added, drinking me in with his full attention. "But more importantly, you look like Robin."

It was impossible to ignore the tension during the evening's festivities. My suspicions were right. Whereas many greeted me in the throne room with kindness and acceptance, there were fey who kept their distance. Queen Lyra and King Thallan didn't stray far from my side. King Peta Elmdew and his husband, consort Dai, showed me kindness but still whispered quietly between themselves whilst watching my every move.

The room was split on their opinion of me, but the more I drank the wine, the less I cared. Even the fear of poison in the food was a distant memory. If Briar or the Children of the Asp would come for me again, I couldn't imagine they'd resort to old ways. Tarron was their benefactor and he was dead. Unless someone else offered up the funds, they'd leave me alone.

I had something else to worry about. My father. The thought of him, as it always did, spurred a violent sickness in my gut.

My cheeks hurt from forcing a smile, but I didn't give up, for the encouraging looks from Althea and Gyah kept me going.

It was the constant touch of Erix's hand upon my back that steadied my mind more than anything. It was as if he could read my mind, knowing when I needed him to distract me from the evening.

I was never more thankful than when Queen Lyra announced the end of the night. But the happiness and relief lasted only a moment.

The door to the throne room slammed open, disrupting the crowd and bathing it in silence. We all watched as three guards pushed through the bodies of fey, straight towards the table where we were situated at the room's head.

Queen Lyra stood, readying herself for the report the guards had to share. Something had happened, and the room waited with bated breath to find out what it was.

They spoke privately with their queen quickly before she dismissed them with a wave of her hand, looking at me for a moment before addressing the table. Queen Lyra's face drained of all colour. "A human has been found at Farrador's city walls."

The table erupted in whispered disbelief.

Althea stood beside me, addressing her mother. "The Mist of Deyalnar should keep them out. Are they certain it's a human?"

She gave one sharp nod.

"Is it a Hunter?" someone asked, spurring worried murmurs from the crowd.

Queen Lyra ignored the question, instead calling for a crowd of guards we had not noticed hovering beyond the now open doors. "Bring him in."

All heads turned towards the entrance to the throne room as the guards pushed a hooded figure forward. Chains were wrapped around his ankles and wrists, keeping both hands tied behind his back; they rattled with each step, the only noise that dared fill the crowded room.

Only when they came to a stop before the table did Queen Lyra speak again. "Remove his hood. If he has a message, he is welcome to share it before us all."

I watched, blood humming in my ears, as the guards surrounding the human pulled free the hood obscuring his face. The first thing I saw was the rounded edge of human ears. His clothing was worn, dirtied and old as though it had been the only material to grace his skin in many years. Only the black, splashed mark of the Hand across his clothing looked new.

"Human," Queen Lyra commanded. "You have come an awfully long way. Please, share what it is you have come to say."

The man raised his face towards her, a grin cut across his dirtied and marked face. He was old, perhaps Father's age. His light, mousy hair was thin, giving view to the pockmarked scalp beneath. When he finally spoke, his words made no sense. He bowed dramatically, as much as the chains at his wrists and ankles allowed. "I am a gift."

"From whom?"

"The Hand." The man began to laugh, spit falling from his lips which gave view to a toothless mouth. "He wishes you to meet him. He didn't believe you'd want to see him personally, but maybe you'll change your mind, once you see what I have to show you."

"Seize him," Queen Lyra snapped, panic filling her voice with urgency. But the man carried on, unbothered by the many hands that reached for him.

"He wants you to know that it'd been impossible without your aid, no matter how unwilling it has been."

"I have heard enough. Take him away."

The human didn't struggle as hands grasped him. His gaze swept across the table, landing on each of us for a paused moment. When his stare reached me, my insides prickled with discomfort as though he recognised a part of me that was like him.

Human.

"The Hand looks forward to finally meeting you in person. Meeting you all. But for now, here is your gift."

The fey guards around him stopped moving, each stiffening in place like stone. It took a moment to make sense of what we witnessed as the human broke free from the chains and lifted his hands like claws at his sides. "Feast your eyes upon what he has made."

The fey guards screamed but made no sound. Each one of them lifted from the ground as though unseen strings pulled them into the air. But that was not what we witnessed. No. This was different. Wrong.

The human lifted his hands higher, and with his motion, the guards' bodies rose from the ground.

When the human stopped, so did the fey – hanging like puppets without string in mid-air.

It only stopped when he lowered his arms. The guards tumbled back to the ground in a symphony of cracking as bone met the stone floor.

My chair fell back as I stood abruptly, looking at the iron-tipped arrow which protruded from the human's neck. All eyes fell to Gyah, who still held her bow as though it was ready to fire yet another arrow.

The human coughed, spluttering blood down his chin. He blinked, hands reaching up towards the arrow as though he would simply pull it free. But then he fell forward, face smashing into the slabbed floor with a sickening crunch.

No one spoke. Only the fey who'd not long since been held aloft in the air by unnatural means dared make a sound as they struggled where they lay – broken and bleeding.

"Erix," I said, reaching for him. I could see him struggle as he peeled his fingers away from the hilt of his sword as though he expected the human to reanimate and attack once again. He took my hand, pulling me to his side where he held me, still without taking his eyes off the body below us. "It can't be right. That was some trick… it had to be."

Erix didn't reply. Instead, he looked to Althea, whose fingers still tickled with flame, ready to attack if she needed.

"Humans are powerless. It has always been that way," Althea said, trying to convince herself or the crowd that listened in. But it was pointless. We had all witnessed it. Not only should his presence be impossible, but what he did… what he could do.

Yet the truth was bleeding out on the floor before us. Humans had access to magic that our histories only tied to the fey. But that had changed now, and it was all linked to the mysterious figure behind the Hunters. The Hand.

"It would seem that the humans were prepared for the war," Queen Lyra confirmed our darkest thoughts. "This Hand , the power behind the Hunters and the missing fey, has finally decided to make himself known to us."

"Tarron was right," I whispered beneath Queen Lyra's voice. "I didn't stop a war, but only delayed it."

"It is too early to know what this means," Erix replied, voice a rumble of his own haunting terror. "It could be trick. A ploy from Doran to make us act."

I shook my head, looking back towards the human with magic that should not belong to him. "The Hand wanted the fey for a reason. It's not the blood he is harvesting, but the power inside of it. And it would seem now we may know why."