Chapter 27

Nylren

Footsteps echo in the throne room as the dark-skinned Fae approaches. Handsome, were it not for the gold and red armor on his torso.

Royal guards block his escort at the entrance, but he doesn’t slow down, his gaze set on the throne upon which my father rests.

Once within hearing distance, he bows.

“My King.”

His sultry voice reaches my ears although his lips remain hidden under his braided head.

“Calen.”

The Fae bows once more as Father greets him.

Morbid fascination roots me in place, unable to wrench my gaze away. This thirst to know, to understand the tableau before me, overpowers revulsion.

The General of Lóna’s armies and Azran’s right hand has come to Zetrea. The Sun Fae who betrayed his own blood, and whose exploits as a military strategist have traveled across seas.

Calen inclines his head towards me, but not before making eye contact, letting me gaze into the infinite pools of his treacherously beautiful azure irises.

A glimmer of green catches my eye where a silk ribbon clings to his biceps, and Father’s eyebrow shoots up when he notices it.

Time suspends its course as tension crystalizes around us, but Calen doesn’t move an inch, holding his head high and keeping his stance wide.

“I come of my own free will.” Calen’s focus goes back to my father. “Azran knows nothing of my presence here. In fact, he hasn’t been seen in months.” Hostility is almost palpable, and my hand inches towards the faithful blade tucked in my sleeve. “I’ve taken over Lóna and come with an offer.”

“You bring terrible news. What dire times for your island home.” Father’s tone is warm and welcoming, although his eyes tell another story.

“Such ill tidings,” Calen says as a smile appears on his face. An interesting choice on his part, but not quite convincing enough to fool me.

“What is this offer you speak of?”

“I come to pledge my allegiance to you, King Airdan. As General of Lóna’s armies, I know how to recognize power and opportunity.”

Treachery does run in his blood.

“What would I gain, if I were to accept this?” An amused smile appears on Father’s face as he waits for the General to answer.

I’m surprised he’s willing to see where this goes.

“Lóna. Control over its territory, armies, and citizens.”

Father motions for Calen to keep going with a sign of his hand.

“Ryrza harbors traitors to the crown, and it would be my pleasure to rid you of those vermin.”

I squint my eyes at his mention of Ryrza. What else does he know of our dealings with rebels down south?

Keeping my mouth shut, I glance at my father as he repositions himself on the throne. A whistle escapes his lips.

“And what do you stand to gain?”

“Revenge.” The word tears from Calen’s throat instantly. “After spending decades fighting for a Fae who’s never acknowledged my influence, he elevated humans to the same rank as some of our brothers in arms.” His eyes flash with uncontained bitterness, and saliva forms at the corner of his mouth. “I left my own blood for Azran, and it was all for nothing.”

“What tells me you won’t do the same to me?” Father remains perfectly collected before Calen’s display of emotion.

“Nothing.” The General tilts his head in challenge. “Only your belief in the depth of my rage. I’m a vindictive motherfucker when I want to be.”

The King’s laugh sounds in the hall.

“That, I can believe.”

A twinkle of pride shines in Father’s eyes and I dig my nails into my palm. He cannot be buying this act.

“Maybe it is time I step in to guarantee safety to our people across the earth.” Father and I lock eyes for a moment before his gaze returns to Calen. “Our people deserve to live united and at peace, wouldn’t you say?”

“My thoughts exactly.” Calen nods.

“I assume you came here with a plan, General. What do you propose?”

“Grant me passage to Zetrea with my most elite warriors. Let me bring Lóna’s finest fighters to you, your Highness, and I will fulfill my vow of allegiance.”

I tense and step forward, but Calen’s voice fills the air once more.

“I will be the sword in your hand, finishing what you started here before we move on to Brimora. The humans won’t stand a chance.”

After an interminable silence, Father stands and makes for the door behind the throne.

“Come.”

He’s always had a flare for the dramatic.

Guards carrying torches flank Calen as Father enters the dungeons with me in tow.

With my jaw clenched tight, I go over all possible scenarios of this masquerade as uncertainty claws my insides. Something is not adding up in Calen’s plan. I must find a way to warn Father without bruising that inflexible pride of his.

When Father slows, I manage to lock eyes with him. He pins me with a cutting glare before I utter a single syllable. I snap my lips shut, his threat implicit, and humiliation scalds my skin at the silent dismissal.

I’ve learned to interpret each look or minuscule gesture Father makes, and there is no doubting this one. He’s willing to test how far Calen’s treachery goes. Time will tell soon enough if my instincts prove reliable or merely paranoid.

I scrutinize the General, my fingers never far from the dagger in my sleeve, ready to jump at the slightest hint of danger.

When we step into the dark corridor where our prisoners are held, Father nods to a guard. The tall Fae goes to the cells with his torch and clangs his sword against the bars.

The prisoners stir, covering their eyes with one hand while reaching for each other through the bars.

I can’t help the smile tearing from my lips when Azran manages to grab his mate’s hand. The two of them are complete and utter fools. This little plan of theirs will never succeed.

I step aside to let Calen take in the scene and watch him as a hawk might a rabbit stirring in tall grass, tracking each nuance that might betray his intentions.

Apart from a slight flare of his nostrils, his features remain perfectly neutral. He doesn’t reveal a hint of emotion as he considers the state of his High Lord.

I’ve got to hand it to him. If he’s faking it, he’s putting on a perfect act. A Fae after my own dark heart.

My smile expands when shock paints Azran’s face and his lips distort into a feral rictus. His swollen and bruised eyes widen when Calen steps into the faint light of the torches secured to the walls.

“Vagabonds wander far from home these days. Just as you said, ill tidings indeed.” Father’s dark voice rings through the air and the corners of Calen’s lips lift.

My posture stiffens as an inkling of trust blooms in my cold, dead heart. I could use an ally here. Dare I even say it? I could use a friend. I’ve always longed for the kind of unwavering support others were granted. Not love or devotion, but strength for a common purpose.

Who’s being a fool, now? I crush this hope in a heartbeat. There is no room for him here.

“What happens to them matters not to me.” Calen’s voice has darkened significantly, his tone so low it’s almost a growl. “As far as I’m concerned, the High Lord is dead.”

The deepest snarl shakes the ground, reverberating against the metal of the cage, unsettling the air.

“These vagabonds are nothing more than caged beasts.”

The General’s voice is the last one Azran and Ela hear before we make our way out.