Chapter 41

GOLL

I sat staring into the blue-coal fire. I should've been thinking of my next move toward a proper alliance with Issos, or the trade routes that weren't settled, or the rebuilding of Lumeria, which wasn't moving as swiftly as expected. The people of Mevia and the surrounding villages rejected assistance of any kind, threatening the wraith fae I'd sent if they stepped foot on their land.

I'd expected some push-back from some Lumerians, but not such a rejection that was akin to denying the treaty. Of course, my soldiers still occupied Mevia and hadn't been hindered in any other way, but it was apparent there were still hostilities toward us. And likely would be for a while.

As much as I'd wanted to move into an era of peace between Lumeria and Northgall, I wasn't a fool. The hatred still simmered—on both sides. But try as I might to focus on what a king should be doing, my mind kept drifting back to Una. The soon-to-be mother of my child. Our child.

I grunted at the sweet sting of what lay ahead for her. The pain and danger of childbirth. The thought of it filled me with a dread I hadn't known before.

And yet, she still had her own quest to complete. The gods hadn't called her to Northgall at seventeen, where fate left her mutilated, only to regrow wings the color of our world, then send her on another hunt for the god-touched texts for nothing. If she was given the cure to help her people, our people, then our journey was just beginning.

The tent flap opened, and I glanced up expecting Dalya to step through, but it was Pullo. He appeared agitated.

I stood, unease curling in my gut. "What is it?"

"I can't find her."

I'd sent Pullo to fetch Dalya some time ago.

"What do you mean?" I asked, but I was already stalking past him and out of the tent.

He followed as I made my way swiftly toward the campfires. "I checked her tent, Sire, and the campfires at the back of camp, then I went to the tents of those who'd been injured in the wolf attack. She's with none of them."

"Did she go with Una and the ladies to bathe at the stream?"

"No, Sire. I saw Meck and Ferryn escorting them when I first went to Dalya's tent."

I stalked past the fire nearest my tent where Keffa was singing an old ballad. Dalya was nowhere in that circle. Soryn caught my expression, set his whetstone on the log he was sitting on, and walked toward me. "What's wrong?" he asked gruffly.

"Pullo can't find Dalya in the camp," I said in a low voice. "We need to do a full search."

By this point, Keffa had stopped entertaining the Culled and was wandering up to us as well. Before he even asked, I told him that Dalya was missing. Though there was no proof yet, I sensed something was wrong. I'd specifically told Dalya to be ready to scry after Olgavet served dinner. She hadn't come on her own, so I'd sent Pullo. Dalya never disobeyed a command, and there was no logical reason for her to leave the encampment at night.

"We need to search every tent and speak to every fae," I told them. "I'll fetch Una and—"

A cry pierced the night. One of my Culled. We all turned toward the sound.

For a brief moment, I couldn't believe what I was seeing. Wights stalked into camp, attacking the warriors at the fire at the front. One had grabbed one of my fae from behind and sank sharp fangs into his throat, blue blood streaming.

I sprinted into action as did those around me, a stone of dread sinking into my stomach. Dodging into my tent, I grabbed my sword I'd left at the bedside then ran across camp toward the stream.

Soryn, Keffa, and Pullo were right behind me, fighting wights as we went. The only way to kill them was to sever their heads or by burning them. I used feyfire to disintegrate the ones Keffa and Soryn hadn't decapitated and who stood in our way, coming from the direction of the stream.

"No," I prayed, running faster, fear bright and burning in my chest.

There were so many. They were winged, some with flesh and trappings of the grave clinging to their decaying corpses, some completely fleshless. Shadow fae didn't burn their dead in pyres as we did. They buried them in crypts in the mountains. And a wraith fae had summoned these wights back to life.

Who and why? None of my warriors were a nekliam. That I knew of.

A sinking realization awakened terrifying alarm. Dalya's vision over a year ago warned me of a traitor. I'd been overly cautious for so long, expecting the betrayal to come from inside my royal council or even from an old ally of my father in Silvantis. Not within my Kel Klyss, my devoted warriors. Fae that I considered brothers.

Panic gripped my entire being as we flew through the melee of savage wights using fangs and claws and horns. As I gripped the skull of an attacking wight, disintegrating it into dust, the dread multiplied.

This made no sense. Wights couldn't kill me. Why would a traitor use them to attack against me? There could be only two reasons—distraction or a delaying tactic. Perhaps both.

A thick wave of wights lumbered toward us from the stream. I growled, " Etheline !" They lit up into flames, still advancing on us. With a wave of my hand, they exploded into shards of smoking bone, crumbling to the ground. We never stopped, running faster past them.

A small body lay on the ground near the water. "No!"

I ran to Hava. Keffa knelt beside her. I checked for a pulse at her throat.

"Still alive," I told Keffa.

Frantically, I jolted up and waded into the water. "Una!" My own heart beat so hard, trying to tear out of my chest, needing to find her.

"My king!" shouted Pullo.

He knelt in the shadows next to a body that was half in the shallows.

"No." I couldn't even breathe as I hurried to him, realizing instantly it wasn't her. It was Meck.

Blue blood glistened on his armor under the moonlight, pooling at his chest. More blood streamed from his mouth. I fell on his other side, lifting his head to face me.

"What happened?" I demanded, even as I inspected his wound, realizing it had been done by a sword, not the claws or teeth of a wight.

"I'm sorry, my king," rasped Meck as a tear slipped from one eye. "I should've told you."

"Told me what, Meck?"

I sensed Soryn above us, but I couldn't look away.

"I tried to stop him."

Closing my eyes, I willed away the reality crashing inside me. I couldn't believe it, yet I knew it to be true before he said it.

"Ferryn is sick…in his head." He gasped, his face contorting with pain. "Dalya tried to heal him."

"Where is Una?" I asked, knowing the answer before he replied.

"He took her." Then he coughed, spattering blue blood onto his bottom lip. "It's my fault. I didn't think he would…should've told you, Sire."

I gripped Meck's hand in mine, seeing the shame and sorrow in his glassy gaze. His own brother had killed him. For without a healer, Meck would surely die of his wound.

"Where did he take her?" I squeezed his hand, bringing his attention back to me. He was drifting.

"Don't know…should've…"

Grief swallowed me at the loss, at the betrayal he suffered from his own brother, at the fact he never confided in me. I could've helped him. "Rest easy, my cousin."

His gaze shifted to mine. "No, Sire. Not cousin…my brother." Then his eyes lifted to the sky before going vacant, not seeing anything at all as his spirit left his body, another tear sliding down his face, pale gray under the moonlight.

I was aware that I was panting, panic tightening its iron fist on me.

My brother. My bastard brother.

It would have given my father appalling joy to seduce my mother's sister. Or worse, violate her and sire sons on her. Now I knew why Mother had appeared sad and anxious at the mention of her sister.

Dalya's vision echoed back to me.

Two sides of the same coin. Demon-fae. One true, one not. Beware the raven's back, for he seeks your place…in all things.

Meck, the true one. His brother— my brother —Ferryn sought my place. He'd taken my mizrah. My dear Una. My gods-given mate.

I lifted to my feet slowly, clenching my fists, claws digging into my skin. I relished the pain. Soryn stood in front of me, an expression of shock on his face. Keffa stood with an unconscious Hava in his arms. Pullo stared at me, horrified at what we'd all just realized.

"Kill the rest of the fucking wights." I breathed out a shaky breath, rage rattling through my frame as I reached out to my companion. "Then lead a party to search for her." I turned and marched toward the open field.

"Where will you be, Sire?" asked Pullo.

But I didn't answer. There was no need as a bellowing roar rumbled down from the night sky, the sweeping shadow of Drakmir circling downward. He felt my fury, my fear, and my urgency.

I had to find her. And then I was going to tear my brother to pieces.