17. Aldrin

Chapter 17

Aldrin

T hat woman will be my undoing. I cannot think straight when Keira is around. Those large eyes drink me in whenever I am near, like she can’t drag them away before she has examined every inch of me. Like she is dying of thirst and only I can quench it.

When I smile at her, those red lips become parted and her breath turns shallow, as a slight rosy glow creeps across her skin. The way she constantly looks back over her shoulder at me drives me insane, swaying those beautiful, rounded hips as she walks and flicking that long red-gold hair.

I grind my teeth in frustration as my blood runs hot.

Keira always seems to find herself somewhat exposed around me, hiding naked within the caves of the lagoon but still drawing my attention to her. Clothes torn by Cú Sídhe and showing tantalizing amounts of her flesh. The entire neckline of her dress unlaced halfway to her navel and extracting my jeweled blade while practically shoving those generous breasts into my face, then pulling me down onto her.

And I was stupid enough to think she was trying to manipulate me, rather than being as attracted to me as I am to her.

“Aldrin! Are you even listening to me?” Klara snaps .

I run a hand through my hair. “Sorry. I got distracted.”

“That much of a shock to you that a human woman bested you?” she asks.

“You have no idea,” I mutter. Keira bested me in more ways than one.

“I’ve spent the entire evening hunting out these mushrooms and painstakingly isolating their aerosol spores - at your request - and you’re too distracted to listen to me?” She tosses her head with agitation, throwing violet braids.

I motion for her to go on.

“I was saying.” Klara rolls her eyes to Drake and Silvan. “You can knock out Cyprien’s guards with a whiff of this potion. His sentries will remain unconscious for at least an hour. Do not—I repeat—do not breathe in any yourself.”

I nod. I have learnt to trust her advice. There is a reason she was once the Spring Court’s Minister of Special Battle Tactics. She gave up that title and position for me.

The night deepens as we drill the plan into each of my fighters, then we march.

We trudge up a long, winding path with minimal tree cover that follows a wide river, with slabs of ice floating on its surface. A thin mist curls up from the body of water.

Blue and green lights bob above the surface and others swim in fast arcs beneath, the sprites of air and water playing with each other. Its vibrancy tells me the Lake Maiden still thrives in these parts.

I rub my hands together to chase away the chill.

My party wears thick coats of white fur taken from the watchtower’s stores. They are musty, but warm, and will keep us hidden. I examine my fighters, noting the grim determination etched into each face. Even Keira wears the same expression, without a hint of fear. Brave girl.

It takes a little over an hour to reach the Frozen River Fortress. It sits at the apex of a dam, and its domed spires colonize both sides of the many-tiered waterfalls that cascade into the river. A great wall encircles both halves of the fortress, and they are connected by multiple arching bridges.

A sharply ascending path cut into jagged stone leads to the nearly impenetrable fortress. A surprise attack would be impossible if it were fully manned, but I know it is empty except for Cyprien’s small force.

We split into two predetermined groups as we reach the base of the fortress. One to focus on knocking out the guards and binding them, and the other to penetrate Cyprien’s chambers and secure him.

I slink through the shadows and approach the wall beneath the cover of evergreen trees that should never have been allowed to grow this close to it. Silvan, Klara, Drake and Keira follow close behind, not making a sound. A sentry passes over the wall above our heads, stopping at its midpoint to scan the field, before continuing.

Klara opens a jam jar of the mushroom spores, holding it away from us, and wielding careful tendrils of air to blow them up to the top of that wall. The flow diffracts the moonlight ever so slightly.

The sentry crumples and falls from the wall.

I swear softly and throw out a buffeting layer of wind to slow his descent, while ripping out of the ground a network of tree roots in a net to catch him. I lower the man to a bed of moss, binding him there in roots, then glance at Klara.

“Shit.” She hisses. “I didn’t expect it to be so potent.”

“Haven’t you made this before?” I whisper back and she shakes her head.

We wait for someone to call an alarm, but when none comes, I create a ladder out of roots up the wall.

Silvan moves first, running across the empty space while holding a ward of invisibility around himself. The magic is difficult and imperfect, especially on moving target.

There are hints of his silhouette still visible as a ripple of warped air shooting across the bare land, but it is damn near hard to spot by the unsuspecting eye. A guard would need to scrutinize the right spot to see him. It's a pity the talent is so rare and only two of my band have the ability.

His footprints in the sparse snow disappear immediately as he brushes air over them as he passes. My soldiers are well trained, by Cyprien himself.

Silvan’s distorted body flies up the ladder, then disappears completely as he reaches the top of the wall. A minute passes. My heart crashes painfully from the anticipation and every muscle in my shoulders ripple with the need for action.

A disembodied hand beckons us from the top of the wall. There are no nearby guards.

I push Drake forward at Silvan’s signal. He makes the mad, vulnerable dash to the wall and up its height, completely exposed. It is difficult to watch, his whole body visible and completely defenseless while he climbs.

I breathe easier when he joins the protection of Silvan’s invisibility ward and winks out of view. I clap Keira on the back to push her next. She glances over her shoulder, eyes sparkling with exhilaration and a half-smile on her face.

Keira actually smiles in the face of battle.

Nervous sweat drips down my spine as she scales the wall and joins Silvan.

I tap Klara to go next.

“No,” she whispers. “You go first. I will protect your flank, sire.”

I don’t like it, but it makes sense.

I spring into action, my long, silent bounds chewing up the spans to the wall in seconds. The ropes of the ladder burn my hands from the friction of my ascent, then I swing over the top of the wall and search for the distortion of Silvan’s ward.

A disembodied hand grabs my fur coat and pulls me a few steps into it, then I am suddenly pressed into the warm bodies of Drake, Silvan and Keira. The air is stagnant under the invisibility ward, as though we huddle under a blanket and exchange breath.

Klara joins us within a few heartbeats.

The layout of the fortress sprawls before us. A series of buildings wrap around a circular core, each level set at a sharp incline, until at its peak a single huge tower stands, with a large hall with sleeping quarters for whoever commands this fortress on its top. This is where we will find Cyprien’s headquarters.

We march in a double row column down the length of the wall, our movements slow and awkward. Two guards appear suddenly as we round a corner and Klara takes them out with her spores. Both crumple to the ground.

A staircase takes us down from the wall to the fortress grounds, then we pick our way through the fortress. It is slow going. Enough to set my teeth on edge and my blood crashing in my ears.

We move in a stop-start trek through the streets, constantly scouting for enemies.

The buildings here are mostly cylindrical, painted in bright shades of red, pink, yellow, and blue. The broad door frames and windows are of quartz that glow under the sliver of the twin moons. Spires of moonstone shimmer like beacons at the top of the domed, tiled roofs. The streets would be completely lit up under a full moon.

If this fortress housed a full army instead of being practically abandoned, the stone would have been powered by fae to chase away shadows an invading force could hide within. It would reveal the shimmer of Silvan’s invisibility ward that we hide beneath.

We take an indirect path through the fortress, up narrow stairways and alleys hidden between buildings and avoiding direct roads that would have more eyes on them.

I have memorized every inch of this fortress during the last war with the Winter Court.

The night is silent except for the rush of the waterfalls cascading beneath the fortress. Not even the footsteps or chatter of guards float to my ears, though it is well past midnight.

Something sits wrong within my gut, but I cannot quite put my finger on it. We pass two more of Cyprien’s people, already dispatched by my own, and I wonder why there hasn’t been even a scuffle yet. Perhaps they are all sleeping, as I anticipated.

A final alley brings us to the courtyard before the grand hall. I hold up a hand and my party stops immediately. I scan the area from our hidden position for a long moment .

There should be guards on those immense double doors framed in moonstone, regardless of the time of night and the limited numbers of Cyprien’s force. He is a brilliant strategist, but he has always been arrogant enough to assume he is untouchable.

Surely it can’t be this easy.

We have to enter through the main doors. If we try to scale the outside of The Tower to reach the bedroom on top, we would be visible across the entire fortress. Not even Silvan could keep the invisibility ward over all of us that spread out. The slit windows are too narrow for any of us to climb through regardless.

A single fern leaf lays across the step of the main doors. A signal from the other half of my force. They are here already, waiting under the invisibility ward formed by Zinnia, the only other member of my band capable of the magic.

I take in a deep breath to steel my nerve, rolling my shoulders to ease some of the tension. The space around the main hall is completely empty of soldiers; the grounds, the walls, and the shadows.

I lead my party out of our hiding.

Another distortion of air follows us, crude enough that I spot it straight away. We are sitting ducks out here. My entire force, right in Cyprien’s clutches. These people rely on me and their fates are tied to mine. They joined my exile willingly, and that is not a thing easily forgiven by the high chancellor.

I grasp the latch on the door and twist it. It isn’t barred. It’s not even locked. The bright light and warmth of roaring fireplaces leak out of the gap in the door as I slowly swing it open. The hinges don’t make a sound.

I know my doom immediately.

Time slows, so each heartbeat extends a lifetime. The scent of sweat and leather floats out of the hall, too potent to be impressions lingering from the day. The slightest grinding of metal reaches my ears, of amour moving under adjusting bodies.

The door swings to reveal a room full of guards lining both sides of the hall, their bodies creating a wide tunnel to the dais.

Two thrones sit upon it. Cyprien occupies the larger one, with his back completely straight and utter stillness on his stony features. Not even a hint of surprise shows. In the other smaller throne lounges a human woman with an arm hanging over the edge, clutching a goblet of wine casually around its rim. Keira’s sister. Their similarities are striking.

“It's about time you arrived, Aldrin.” A wide, cocky smile fills Cyprien’s face, and he spreads his arms. “We have organized a little party for you and your human friend.”

My blood turns to ice as the thoughts whirl in my head, looking for a way out.

A retreat.

A horn blows from outside and rebounds within the room, followed by boots crashing on cobblestones behind me. I throw a glance over my shoulder, to where a dozen soldiers file out of the two buildings behind us, wedging my loyal band of warriors between two forces on this doorstep.

I step out of Silvan’s invisibility ward, onto the elaborate mosaic floor of the hall, exposed by all that bright light. I don’t spare a second thought for the guards clutching spears around me.

I send a glare of pure hatred at Cyprien. “You’re sitting in my fucking chair.” I growl.