Chapter 23

23

BLAZE

S omething moves in the distance.

I squint and stealthily shift one of my hands to grab the pommel of my sword.

Treyton remains by the fire, oblivious, his eyes intent on a piece of meat he’s attempting to cook. I don’t have the heart to tell him it’s already burnt beyond anything edible. It’s now nothing but a charred lump.

Still, a twisted part of me can’t help but hope he serves it to Kassandra, and then I’ll waltz in with fresh fruit and save the fucking day.

A twig snaps.

This time, even Treyton’s head twists towards the sound.

The two of us are directly outside the outpost, guarding the only entrance and exit. Kassandra is safe inside with that idiotic elf. I wanted to keep an eye on the Forest—even knowing it’s rare for any creature to leave the safety it provides—and Treyton offered to make Kassandra dinner.

But the noise, however, isn’t coming from the Forest but the road we just traveled down a few orbits earlier.

“Treyton,” I hiss out of the corner of my mouth, stalking closer to the threat. “Go inside.”

The Spring Prince looks at me in obvious disbelief. “What?” His tone is incredulous.

“Go inside and guard Kassandra.” If the elf fuck is still unconscious—and if there’s more than one threat for me to dispatch—my little beast would be left unprotected. Vulnerable.

I don’t trust Treyton’s prowess on the battlefield, but even I can admit, albeit reluctantly, that he’ll protect Kassandra as if his life depends on it.

And if I’m to believe Aleksander about all of us being her mates, it sort of does. I doubt any of us would be able to survive if anything were to happen to her.

Treyton scrambles to his feet, somehow looking both graceful and clumsy at the same time, and makes a beeline towards the entrance. At the same moment, our stalker steps out from behind a building and into a sliver of moonlight writhing across the ground.

I take quick note of her blonde hair, tall frame, and hard eyes. Some of the tension eases, though I don’t take my hand off my sword pommel.

Treyton blinks. “Cayetana?”

His guard steps forward, holding the reins of her mulino. The creature seems to be hobbling slightly, and I spot a trickle of blood on its calf.

“Your Highnesses.” The fae female dips her head respectfully as she steps closer.

Despite her cordial words, her tone is curt and cold. Clipped, almost.

On closer inspection, I see a bruise marring the warrior’s cheek, the black and blue striking against her pale skin. Dried blood has just begun to crust in her hair.

“Cayetana,” Treyton breathes. “What happened?”

Cayetana pivots to regard her prince, her features and posture stiff. “We were following you across the Summer Court.” Her tone holds a hint of reproach, and I imagine she’s not happy that her charge left the crown’s armed regiment. “We were only a few hours away from the Forest when we were attacked.” Her eyes glaze over. “My mulino and I were both injured, but we managed to escape.” She swallows and then begins again. “The rest of the team didn’t.”

I glance at Treyton out of the corner of my eye as I ponder her words.

That must’ve been…a few dozen soldiers, minimum. All dead.

“Who took them out?” I demand, though I already know the answer.

The Day and Night forces, of course.

Fucking Draven and Sylvan.

Their cowardly fathers wouldn’t be stupid enough to start a war against the other four kingdoms. Only the princes have the ambition and drive for world domination.

Every fae knows that the Day and Night Courts are mirror images of each other. The only difference is their landscapes. Where the Night Court has the Moon Sea, the Day Court has a dry canyon. Where the Day Court has Mount Solis and Mount Audistio, the Night Court has deep trenches carved into the ground the exact distance down as the volcanos’ height.

Nobody knows exactly how it works—or the magic behind it—but most believe it’s because the only difference between day and night is the presence and absence of light.

Even their princes are eerily similar, at least in appearance. Draven has midnight-black hair and silvery eyes. Sylvan has blond hair and metallic-gray eyes. The two boys were close when they were children—practically brothers—and I imagine that was due to the close nature of their kingdoms.

Though, now that I think about it, aren’t all of the other courts made up of opposites? Spring and Fall. Summer and Winter.

Are they all just mirrors to each other as well?

“I don’t know who it was,” Cayetana says, drawing my attention back to her. “They didn’t wear any identifying markers or crests.”

“That doesn’t sound like Draven and Sylvan,” Treyton murmurs, frowning.

The Day and Night Princes much prefer to advertise their brutal slaughterings. They want the world to know just what they’re capable of.

Cayetana’s gaze flits over my shoulder momentarily, and she swallows. “Kassandra, is she…?”

“She’s alive. Safe,” I rush to reassure her, though I don’t know why.

When have I ever reassured anyone in my long, harrowing life? I don’t care about this female in the slightest, yet…

Kassandra does.

Fuck.

Cayetana looks relieved, and my respect for the warrior fae grows exponentially. Kassandra deserves the world. To know that she has one more fae who cares about her—one as formidable as Cayetana—brings me a modicum of peace.

“Can I see her?” Cayetana’s voice is clear and strident. Despite the blood continuously dripping down her face, her back remains straight, her posture immaculate.

“You can,” Treyton agrees, frowning. “But before you do, I need to tell you something you’re not going to like.”

Instantly, her brows draw together, and her lips tighten—one of the first cracks I’ve spotted so far in her mask. “And that is?”

“You can’t come with us.”

Cayetana’s head whips back as if she’s just been physically slapped. “For Gaia’s sake?—”

“I need you to go back to the palace and look after Serena,” Treyton orders, his tone firm.

“I’m your guard?—”

“This is a direct order, Cayetana.”

“I’ve also been assigned to watch over the Death Whisperer…” she continues, ignoring Treyton.

The Spring Prince steps forward and places a hand on her shoulder.

“I can’t explain it right now, but I know the four of us need to make this journey on our own.” Treyton’s brows furrow, as if he shocked himself by that declaration. He glances at me over his shoulder. “Can’t you feel it?”

I grit my teeth and don’t respond.

Because the truth is, I do feel it. Innately. Trying to encapsulate this foreign sensation into words is impossible.

I just know that I’m meant to be here with Kassandra and the others—as much as I hate their presence.

It feels right , like some primordial entity is guiding my movements, pushing me where he or she wants me to go. I’ve never believed in fate or anything like that, but then I met Kassandra.

How could I not believe in it after that?

For some reason, the universe is determined to keep the four of us together. They want us to complete this mission. Together.

Fuck, what if Aleksander’s right? What if we’re all her mates?

A wave of fierce jealousy crashes over me, and I scowl at nothing in particular.

“So two princes and the Death Whisperer are going to travel who the hell knows where on their own?” Cayetana gapes at the two of us as if we’ve lost our minds.

Maybe we have.

Neither Treyton nor I bother to mention the elf. Cayetana will see Aleksander soon enough.

“It’s important,” Treyton stresses. “You’re not needed here.”

“Are you going to tell me what this is all about?”

Treyton and I exchange a glance. The sight causes Cayetana to choke on her own spit.

“Are you two… friends now?”

I don’t know if she’s holding in her laughter or if she’s trying not to scream in terror.

We both scowl and look away from each other.

“Of course not,” I growl at the exact moment Treyton bites out, “Fuck no.”

Cayetana’s eyes narrow suspiciously, and I can see the millions of questions swarming in her gaze. But she doesn’t ask them—probably because she knows she won’t get an answer from us.

“All right.” Cayetana bats at a loose strand of hair that has fallen out of her tight braid. She then shoulders past the two of us, marching towards the entrance to the outpost. “Let me see Kassandra before I leave.” She tosses us a frosty glare over her shoulder. “You may be the rulers—and I may have to listen to you—but I don’t trust you with her for a single tick. Fae around you tend to die prematurely, and I refuse to allow that to happen to her.”

And with that parting statement, Cayetana ducks into the building and disappears from view.