CHAPTER 51

EMONIE

The walk from the barracks to the bridge didn't take nearly as long as I'd have liked. But it was enough for me to slip further back in the lines. A little shifting here, a slowed step there, and one by one, I was able to put more space between myself and the front so I could breathe easier.

The other Stone Swords sent me plenty of irritated looks. I was also elbowed once or twice, but no one confronted me or shoved me forward again. I was hoping I could sneak out somehow and head in the other direction, but I realized pretty quickly that just isn't possible.

The higher ranking Badges keep moving their horses up and down the lines, barking out commands and corrections. I might've been able to sneak further back in the rows, but there's no way for me to slip out completely.

We march through the deadlands, and the further we go, the worse it is. The crippling, scorched earth looks like it's been sucked dry of life. Then we reach one of the dead cities, which is nothing but rotten wood and ash-riddled rubble.

And it's supposed to be empty.

It was abandoned long ago, but right now, it holds soldiers.

I can feel the other Stone Swords around me grow tense as we take them in. A few of the Badges move ahead to meet with them just off the path, and unease curls up in my nerves as I get a better look.

Those soldiers waiting in the ruins aren't Stone Swords.

This army wears armor that's stained with both old and new blood. The front of their helmets are in the shape of a blade, leaving their noses and mouths exposed. And hanging from black chains on their belts are…

I can't help it—my hand flies to my mouth, eyes widening in shock when I realize what it is. What they are. My steps stagger as I take in the fillets of flesh that hang from their chains. Bits of hide dried out like strips of jerky that they're wearing as trophies. If it weren't for the soldiers surrounding me, I'd run the other way.

Because I know exactly who these fae are.

Gore .

They're a faction of fanatics. The lowest of the low. Last I heard, they were banished to an island, kept away from the mainlands and left to kill each other off.

Either that was a lie or they've severely multiplied, because there are hundreds of them gathered in this dead city, and they look terrifying.

Dread fills my stomach until I'm drunk with it. I'm so frightened I can barely march straight. These aren't fae, they're monsters.

They don't belong here. They were banished for a reason. That reason being they devour the flesh of their fellow fae.

It goes against every moral, every ethic, against nature itself. But they do it for power.

Conquer and consume. That was their mantra. They believed that consuming the flesh of other fae made them stronger. More powerful.

I think it just made them depraved.

I stand in the corner of belief that Annwyn has cursed them for their corruption.

That's why they have hair like limp strings. That's why their lips have pulled back from their mouths, and their teeth are sharpened into points. That's why they've gone mostly blind, save for the shadows they track, aided by the sense of smell that's far and above what anyone else is capable of scenting. And that's why every single one of them has a tinge of red to their skin tones and they reek of blood.

It reveals the truth of the forbidden flesh they've consumed.

Some of the Gore soldiers stand ready, mouths in permanent snarls, sharp teeth stained pink. I feel their eyes on our procession, and my skin crawls. They're an abomination.

I see the Badges talking to a small group of Gore, probably higher ranking based on how heavy their chains are with their multiple slabs of flesh hanging down.

"King Carrick wants you to bring up the rear, after we've cleared the bridge."

I don't hear what the Gore soldier replies, but another one snarls and jerks forward, making the Badges flinch. Guttural, aggressive laughter spreads through the Gore. The Badges quickly turn and head back with strained faces before remounting their anxious horses.

If our own battle-trained horses won't go near the Gore, that should tell us something.

The army continues to move past, and I'm grateful I'm not on an outside row, that I have some buffer between me and the glaring Gore. But I wish I had an even bigger buffer. Like an ocean. Like them being on that abandoned island with an entire sea between them and civilization where they're supposed to be.

King Carrick is an absolute idiot if he thinks they're going to be loyal to him. Gore aren't loyal to anybody. They only answer to flesh and power.

And yet he's just going to…let them loose. In Orea.

They already do unspeakable things to their own faekind. I don't even want to imagine what they'll do to Oreans. The very thought makes me shudder in fear.

I glance around, wondering where the hell Carrick went and what's going to happen when the Gore get done with everyone in Orea and decide to turn on us. Wondering how I'm going to make any sort of difference when all of this has gotten way bigger than me.

My worry grows with every step, until all too soon, our destination comes into view and my breath catches.

The bridge of Lemuria.

It's famous. Everyone knows the story of how our fae prince came here, at the edge of our world, and used his magnificent power to tether it with his princess's home realm. A wedding gift, from him to her, and a display of power that Annwyn had never seen before.

I don't know how it worked, though stories have been passed down for generations. All I know is, Orea had a bridge, and the prince somehow connected it to Annwyn.

But now that I see it in person, I'm amazed at how…utterly plain it is.

Fae are known for elaborate buildings and ostentatious designs. We like flare and beauty and adornments. But this bridge is simple.

Just a pair of white pillars and rustic rope stretching from them, wrapped around short balustrades beyond. The bridge itself is stark as well. Only gray dirt along a narrow path that disappears after a few feet, swallowed by a thick fog.

I don't want to go into that fog.

And yet the army keeps marching. We have to shift, narrowing our lines to only three per row, and I get shuffled back even more. Up ahead, the front lines have already disappeared.

A hush falls over the army. Even the Badges have entered the lines, horses nickering and snorting with unease. I get closer and closer, and my nerves twist tighter.

"It feels wrong, doesn't it?" I mutter to the male to my left. "Like we should turn back around?"

He ignores me, and I refocus ahead, though I have a terrible feeling in my stomach. Every ounce of intuition is a weight that's trying to get me to stay. To not take another step forward.

But I can't.

My footsteps falter as I reach the pillars, but I'm trapped. There are soldiers behind me, beside me, in front of me. Gore at the dead city just a mile away.

There's no way out.

"This feels strange…" I say again, but still, no one replies.

Don't they feel it? Annwyn doesn't want us to go there.

I suck in a hurried breath, and then my feet leave the dead soil, and just like that, I'm on the bridge.

My nerves pound with unease. The sound of the soldiers marching onward in synchronized steps fills the air, making everything so much more ominous.

Then I enter the thick, swirling fog too, getting swallowed up in it…

And I realize instantly that something is terribly wrong.

There's a pressure that builds up beneath my skin. As if I'm nothing but soap and air, filling into a bubble. It strains within me and then, in the next second— pop .

My glamour magic disappears.

It wasn't even the usual shift of draining away. Instead, it was there one second, gone the next, just as I'm swallowed by the fog.

I've lost a few inches of height, my hair is auburn with orange tips again and scraping against my neck. The uniform and armor swims on me, the boots so big I nearly trip.

Pure panic floods my system, and I quickly duck my head. My entire body breaks out into a cold sweat.

My glamour is gone. Just gone .

I frantically try to call it up, to make my skin tingle and smear, but it doesn't work. I can't even change the tint of my hair.

Someone is going to see me. Someone is going to notice.

Why did I open my big mouth and talk to the soldiers next to me? I shouldn't have drawn attention to myself. Now, they're even more likely to notice I've changed into an entirely different person.

Desperately, I try to call upon my magic again and again, but it won't work. It's this bridge. It has to be.

Why did I come on this damn bridge?

I should've just taken my chances and run like my ass was on fire. Right now, I'd prefer my ass was on fire.

This is not good.

I glance around surreptitiously, wondering if any other fae is feeling these effects, but none of the nearby soldiers are wearing the pin that marks them as magicked.

Is the king unable to use his stone power on the bridge? Is that why this information isn't public? Is that why he didn't travel with us?

That would have been a massive breach in his defenses if anyone were to know. Perhaps only the magicked soldiers get briefed on this little tidbit and are sworn to secrecy? Unless only my magic is being affected for some reason…but I have a feeling it's not just me.

Which means the king is vulnerable on the bridge. So am I, sure, but more importantly—him.

My thoughts spring around, bouncing off the walls of my skull as I try to come up with a plan. But being on the bridge is suffocating. I've never done well in confined spaces, and even though we are literally walking over an endless void, I've never felt so trapped.

The mist wraps around me like thick blankets, making me wish I could shove them off. It should feel damp, but it's completely dry. More like smoke than fog, though it carries no scent.

I hate it, but it's the only thing concealing me. The bridge exposed me and veiled me all at once.

I'm still working out how I can use this information to my advantage when I feel a distinct chill in the air. A second later, the army procession stops.

We stand here, not moving, just waiting and listening while my nerves tighten. I lick my dry lips, eyes darting around the haze, but I can barely even see the soldier in front of me.

I hear dull thudding ahead, but the sounds are distorted. I wonder what's going on. After a couple of minutes, I start to squirm in place, my toes swimming within my boots. Without being too obvious, I try to hitch up my pants before they fall around my ankles.

Standing still in the fog makes me feel even more vulnerable than moving in it. I just want off. I want to get off this stupid bridge and—

CRASH!

A deafening noise ahead makes me jump, and I accidentally bump into the soldier to my right. He glances over at me, expression dripping in annoyance…until he takes me in. Even within the haze, he can see that I'm not the soldier I was before.

He glances around, at a loss, like he thinks the fog might be making him see things. When he focuses on me again, his eyes narrow. "Wait, I recognize you."

My eyes flare in panic, and for some stupid reason, I shush him, as if that's going to shut him up. At the other end of the bridge, more sounds of cracking and smashing rip through the air.

But to my ears, the male's accusing voice is louder. "You're that pris—"

I act on pure instinct, and my foot shoots forward, swiping his leg out from under him. His words cut off as he loses balance, eyes widening when he tilts sideways. We lock gazes, both of us realizing at the exact same time that he's pitching straight over the edge of the bridge.

I fling my hand out to catch him, but it's too late. I've already done the damage.

The soldier tips right off the side, bounces over the rope, and falls.

I lurch toward him, and other soldiers nearby shout and try to reach for him, but no one has a chance, and no one wants to risk falling too. All we can do is watch him plunge into the mist as he lets out a piercing scream that stabs straight past my eardrums and into my heart.

That scream seems to stretch and stretch, until I'm certain it's never going to end. Guilt drags through me as I stare at the air in shock.

I've killed him. I didn't mean to, I just reacted, and he fell off the bridge. Fell into a void we have no concept of. A void we can't even comprehend.

What if he falls forever?

"What's going on?"

I jerk around and see a shadowed silhouette ahead shoving soldiers aside, stomping this way. Stone Swords shuffle over to make room, and then the Badge stops and looks out over the rope.

My heart sprints through my chest. I start backing away, maneuvering past the soldiers while they're still distracted. They're swarming around the spot where the soldier fell, leaving room for my retreat. I hear them murmuring, listening to the fading scream.

The Badge turns and looks around. "What happened?" he demands.

Nobody speaks up at first, just murmurings I can't hear past the pounding in my head.

But then, words like pushed and tripped start bouncing around, and I have no idea which one is going to land. Have no idea if through the thick fog, one of the nearby soldiers saw.

"Who was in line with him?" the Badge asks.

I drop to the ground.

The fog is even thicker down here against the gray dirt, and I narrowly avoid soldiers' legs while also avoiding falling over the edge myself.

I scramble like a rodent searching for a hole to hide in. Luckily, I manage to pass a group huddled near the rope, leaving a spot for me to squeeze by.

But with the questions from the Badge being tossed like darts, I feel like I have a giant bullseye pointed right on my face.

I also don't dare look over the edge. I know all I'll see is fog, but already, vertigo is threatening to tilt my brain. Panic is just a breath away.

When I find a cluster of soldiers with a space behind them, I nearly cry in relief. I scuttle behind them and then pop back up as quickly as I can, pretending to have been there all along.

I stay behind the taller group, hastily shoving the ends of my hair up into the too-large helmet and rolling up the waist of my trousers so they stay on.

Another resounding crack fills in the air.

My entire body is covered in sweat, and I'm bracing myself for everyone to turn around and look at me. I'm waiting to get dragged forward and found out.

Guilt seeps through my pores as much as my anxiety does.

I'm going to be caught.

What if they toss me over too? What if they give me to the Gore?

A shiver runs down my spine. I think I might be sick.

When the Badge shouts out, I flinch, bracing...

"Everyone back in formation! And stay the fuck away from the edges!"

I blink, shocked and frozen. I hear shuffling, and then I'm pushed around as soldiers hurry to reform the rows. In a daze, I force myself to get in line with two other soldiers, when really, all I want to do is dissolve into a puddle of relief.

That was a close one.

The army procession starts to move again, and I move with it, like a piece of seaweed caught in the ocean's tow. I'm still shaking when the fog lifts, like the foam dissolving upon the sand, and then, we flow out onto a white shore of snow.

Orea.

My eyes widen as I take in the new world.

The land is vast, empty with snow and ice and fissures through the ground. The only structure that stands is in ruins to my right. An ancient castle long since crumbled.

The landscape is so different from Annwyn. There isn't a single place in our world that's covered in such cold. It's actually quite beautiful, if it weren't for the ruined ground broken up and split.

The sky is as colorless as the bridge, yet the air holds a scent that makes me want to gag.

Okay, so Orea reeks .

They didn't say that in the history books.

Off in this distance, I can see trails of smoke rising, so that must be part of the stench. I'm really hoping that the veined soldier didn't die from breathing the air.

Hopefully, it's not poisoned.

As soon as I step off the bridge's dirt and onto the snow, I feel my magic come whooshing back. It takes me unawares, my body puffing back out, straining against the stone banded around me, feet filling out my shoes, face morphing, hair darkening and shortening.

I nearly trip on the slippery ground as my body tries to readjust to my changed limbs and weight. With my feet no longer swimming inside the overlarge boots, I manage to stay upright as I track through the snow. Barely.

I pass by remnants of thick walls of ice now crumbled to pieces. I guess that explains those crashing sounds. This is the barrier the king was informed about. Now, it lies broken and useless.

We're through. Pouring into a frozen world that feels utterly different from Annwyn. I look around, trying to find the king, when suddenly, the ruins to the right start moving.

I guess I found him.

Stone lifts and shifts, and the whole army stops, watching the might of the king's power as he moves entire walls and erects new ones, changing the relic into a completely new structure.

His magic transforms the ruins into a blocky castle that looks more like a fortress, with a single square tower at the front and a pointed roof that reaches up like it wants to stab the sky.

When the building settles, something heavy settles in my stomach too. I glance behind me, watching more soldiers flow in from the bridge. Up ahead, Badges are shouting for the army to form around the new fortress, probably waiting for the king's next orders.

They're talking, some gathering around the burning piles where the smoke is coming from. At first, I think it's to keep warm, but then I notice the shape of those smoking piles, and I realize they're…bodies.

No wonder it smells so bad.

I swallow down a gulp of bile, my eyes moving to the new building. The king is in there right now. All I'd need is one opportune moment. One second of him being caught unawares.

A stupid, terrible idea, but…I can't simply leave. For one, I'd most definitely be caught by flesh-eating Gore monsters. And two…what about Orea? What if I have a chance to kill the king and end this?

"Dammit," I mutter beneath my breath. Why did my Vulmi parents raise me to be so damn honorable?

My eyes dart around, and when soldiers start breaking off in different directions, I make my move. Not back toward the bridge, but toward the fortress instead.

I'm either going to somehow kill a Stone King, die trying, or…hopefully some third option that I haven't quite thought of yet, but one that doesn't involve getting murdered or eaten alive.

I'm particular about the not getting eaten alive part.

I shoot up a quick prayer to Dronidylis, the goddess of favor and filch. Because if I'm going to somehow steal the king's life, then I'm going to need all the favor I can get.