15. Arran

15

ARRAN

Our war council had outgrown the quarters at Eilean Gayl. The Great Hall might have accommodated us, but the fear in the humans’ eyes when Veyka had opened the rift in Eldermist was enough to convince us none of them would be willing to come through it. Even with the concessions we made—no weapons, convening in their realm—only the elderly female Sylva deigned to join us.

We were up on the hill above the village, where we’d first come through the rift after leaving Baylaur all of those months ago. I could not see them at this distance, even with the benefit of my sharpened fae eyesight, but I could feel the human eyes upon us.

Gwen had given them fae warriors for protection. Their Council of Elders had agreed to give refuge to the civilians from Baylaur. Maybe they would see this as an act of good faith; maybe they would be willing to fight—and die—alongside us.

Veyka brought everyone through in groups of two. I did not question why she did not open a portal rift. Even after a full night of sleep, there were lines around her eyes. She was not just jumping between realms, but across the continent as well. I noted the wonder in the eyes of those who’d never experienced it before—Barkke, Elora, my father. Others, like Percival, Cyara, and Osheen, landed on their feet, their teeth gritted against the wave of nausea. As Gwen, Lyrena, and Sylva climbed the hill from the village, Veyka stepped in front of the massive standing stone.

I saw the monolith now for what it was—an ancient marker left by the Ancestors. The carvings were not identical, but there could be no mistaking the placement. It marked a rift—and the rifts led to other realms. To the succubus. It was a warning, just like the ring of them on Accolon’s island.

It framed Veyka—a makeshift throne, a symbol of her interminable power. I stepped into my place at her side.

My father and Barkke talked quietly. Elora’s eyes darted around, one hand on the hilt of her blade. Cyara stood at the edge of the hill, gazing down at the village.

“What happened to the buildings?” Cyara asked softly.

“The earthquake brought down nearly a quarter of the village,” Sylva said as she gained the hill. Despite her age, she was a step ahead of Gwen and Lyrena. This terrain was her home, and she climbed it like she knew every rock and ditch.

“And they still welcomed the refugees from Baylaur,” Gwen inserted, coming to stand beside the woman.

“We are most grateful,” Veyka said with a regal tip of her head. She’d donned a circlet I had never seen her wear before. Made of unadorned, pounded gold, it circled her forehead and disappeared into her moon-white hair at her temples. It provided a sharp contrast to the ornate diamonds and sapphires that studded the shells of her ears.

“For it to be felt here as well…” Cyara trailed off, massaging her wrists as she continued to stare out. “That cannot be insignificant.”

“Maybe. But we have enough trouble of our own. We cannot afford to go chasing any more,” Veyka quipped.

Cyara exchanged a glance with Percival, who stood silent at her side.

My beast rumbled instinctively at the history of threat. Why is Percival here?

I could feel Veyka’s frustration through the bond, a slightly muted companion to my own. Cyara insisted.

To what end?

Veyka did not answer that thought. Her arm nudged mine. The group had gone silent. Unlike the royal council meetings Veyka had once presided over in the goldstone palace, there was no ceremony to war.

But I had fought and led many. I’d never wasted time on platitudes. War was a time for facts.

“We do not know when or where the succubus will strike next.” The warriors among the group straightened. The planners tilted their heads. I had their full attention. “We do not know how they organize themselves, if they do at all. We do know that the only way to kill them or prevent possession is with amorite.”

“Are they sentient?” my father asked.

“No. They are mindless monsters,” Elora growled. The already frigid temperature dropped several degrees, but no ice appeared at her fingertips.

I mentally reached out for my mate. We’d discussed this—every word I was about to say—at length. But particularly whether to share the succubus’ attraction to her. I worried that if word spread, there were those who might try to blame her. She’d argued no one could do that any more effectively than she’d already done herself. And knowledge was one of the few advantages we had.

I shifted my attention to Elora. “They are not entirely without intent. They are drawn to Veyka.”

There was nothing I could do to deflect the attention as every being on that hilltop turned their eyes on my mate. Their queen, but more. A female who’d walked hand in hand with torment, yet could still love. A warrior who’d trained herself, when no one else was willing to. A prophecy come to life.

Veyka rolled her shoulders and winked. “Lucky me, eh?”

It was difficult to read the faces of our companions. The elementals kept their faces neutral—even Cyara, Veyka’s handmaiden and closest confidant. Gwen’s was blank as well; though I suspected that had more to do with her own inner turmoil than anything else. Sylva, the human woman, wore an expression of outright pity. Barkke hooted softly through his beard-covered lips.

“Whether it is because they can sense the strength of her power or the nature of her ability to move between realms, they assess her as a threat and will try to get to her over others.” I knew they must have a thousand questions, but we did not have time for them.

“It could be an interesting tool to utilize in battle,” Osheen said with a heavy sigh. Beside him, Cyara’s turquoise eyes had blown wide. The winged handmaiden looked up at her new fellow Knight as if he’d sprung a second head.

Veyka’s laugh sliced through the air, sharp and acerbic. “We can discuss whether or not to use me as bait later,” she said. The smile she gave me was absolutely feline, completely at odds with the gravity of our discussion. “Go on, Brutal Prince.”

“We have two main objectives—ready the armies we have and secure allies,” I said. Veyka slid her hand up my spine. She was trying to distract herself.

On any other day, she would have succeeded in distracting me as well. But the success of our efforts directly impacted whether my mate would live to see another summer. Even she could not distract me.

“Gwen has already agreed to remain here in the human realm. With the assistance of Sylva and the Eldermist Council of Elders, they will rally what human fighting forces they can. Elora, take a selection of your remaining soldiers and remain here as well. You’ll use the village as a base to go through the rift and search for the remains of the Elemental Army in the mountains.” No surprise flickered in Gwen or the elderly human woman’s eyes as I spoke; they’d already had time to take counsel and knew what to expect.

Lying in bed that morning, still warm from lovemaking and basking in the glow of a successful rescue, Veyka and I had planned and plotted. Argued, fucked, and finally agreed.

Elora nodded her assent, but not without question. “It would be faster with the Queen’s help,” she said, dividing her gaze between Veyka and me.

“Undoubtedly,” Veyka said with a broad wink. “But unfortunately, I will have the pleasure of meeting my subjects in Wolf Bay.”

No gasps of surprise at that edict, either. Wolf Bay had been the target of our conversations since we’d secured the amorite. Which, thankfully, was still coming in regular shipments from Castle Chariot.

“Ancestors help them when you get there,” Barkke said with a grin, his emerald eyes twinkling with mirth.

Veyka licked her lips. “You’re coming too.”

I interceded before I needed to rip out Barkke’s throat for the way he was looking at my mate. “Barkke and Lyrena will accompany me and Veyka to Cayltay. We will prepare the troops camped in Wolf Bay and begin our search for the Ethereal Queen.”

Veyka planted her hands on her hips as she continued. “Isolde will travel with us. If the succubus are drawn to me, then the fighting will follow me as well. We will need her healing magic.” The faerie was back in Eilean Gayl, assisting the healers, but she’d already given her assent.

I looked to my father next. “The Lord of Eilean Gayl will rally and ready troops north of the Spine.”

My father was not a warrior. In the centuries since his marriage to my mother, what little prowess he’d honed in his youth had dulled farther still. But he was as effective a leader as any I’d ever met. Males and females alike took to him instantly. Not inspired by fear, like my own troops, but by true affection. If anyone could rouse the grumpy, taciturn lords and ladies entrenched in the frigid north of Annwyn, it was him.

But we had not expected arguments from any of those we’d doled out quests too thus far. And the next one was not mine to give.

Veyka stepped toward her handmaiden, palms up, entreaty on her face. It took a different kind of strength than what I’d used to command, to ask. It was a different female who stood before me than even a few months ago.

“Cyara, you will accompany Osheen and Maisri to the Faeries of the Fen,” Veyka said. Although it was phrased as a command, the question was evident in every tensed muscle of her body.

The only emotion Cyara showed was the drawing of her wings together behind her back. “I would not be parted from you, Majesty.”

Veyka reached her, hands out. Cyara did not spurn the offer. She placed her smaller ones into Veyka’s, gripping them tightly until there was not a single one among us assembled who could not see the shining white of her knuckles.

“Nor I, you,” Veyka admitted, her voice as even as Cyara’s had been. “But the Faeries possess unique and ancient magic. We cannot afford to ignore them, and there is no one I trust more than you.”

Their gazes collided. One stormy blue, tumultuous as the soul beneath. The other clear and constant turquoise. I had to look away from the force of what passed between them.

I knew no one shared the soul-bond that Veyka and I did; but in that moment, I could have sworn that a silent conversation passed between them.

“As you wish,” Cyara said softly.

Veyka returned to my side, and this time it was my hand that went to her back.

“What of my sister?” Percival cut in on the emotionally fraught moment. Typical.

“You shall remain in the custody of the Lady of Eilean Gayl,” Veyka said sharply, all softness drained from her eyes. Replaced by barely contained distaste.

Percival lifted his chin. “Until?”

“Until I give an order otherwise.” Veyka turned away from him—not even assessing him as sufficient to deserve her regard. Whatever her feelings towards the humans in general, Percival had more than earned her ire. She’d given him one of her precious daggers, and he’d driven it into her Goldstone’s back while delivering us to Gorlois.

The fact that she no longer required him shackled to the wall was still a surprise to me.

“What about Avalon?” Lyrena asked before the group could begin to disperse.

“Avalon is neutral,” Veyka countered, hands back on her wide hips.

“They saved Arran,” Lyrena argued back.

“Debatable.”

It was not a moot point; I’d brought it up to Veyka as well. But we could not be sure of the Lady of the Lake’s allegiance. She may be Veyka’s half-sister, but she’d kept secrets. “An ally that could not be depended upon was no ally at all,” I said, imbuing my voice with a finality that Lyrena must have recognized. She did not argue further.

Veyka rolled her shoulders and reached unconsciously for her belt. The scabbards were there, but the daggers were not. One of the conditions to get the humans to the discussion—no weapons. As if every one of us was not dangerous enough, merely existing. Veyka hooked her thumbs around the empty scabbards, scraping her thumbnail over the jewels. Now that it was done, the parting came. That would be the hardest.

She opened her mouth—to say something sassy or profound, I could not have guessed—but drew up short.

“What about the Sacred Trinity?” Cyara asked.

Veyka froze.

But she was not the one who drew everyone’s attention. Nor was Cyara. It was Gwen—on her knees, golden eyes blown wide, warm brown skin turned completely ashen. “What do you know of the Sacred Trinity?”