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CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

W E GATHERED IN FERON’S ROOM to feast when Pirmiith rushed in through the open door. He sped past Riven, who was standing to eat his dinner after Nikolai made a point of dragging his chair away from the table.

“We were wrong,” Pirmiith said through a deep breath, waving a report in his hands.

I swallowed the rabbit Syrra had made and grabbed the parchment from him. “About what?”

“The next target is not one of the small villages,” Dynara answered for him, her face grave as she passed Pirmiith a goblet of water.

He stood to his full height, his long brown hair tied back into a half braid behind his head. “Damien has ships docking at the ports as we speak. He’s attacking Volcar.”

Syrra peered over my shoulder to read the note. “He may just be protecting it. It would be foolish to concentrate his entire army so far from the capital.”

He shook his head. “He brought ten thousand men with orders for all Mortals to hand over any Halflings in their service to the Crown.”

My throat went dry. “Volcar is the second largest city in the kingdom.” I turned to Vrail. “How many Halflings would you guess?”

“Thousands,” she answered without hesitation. Her leg started to bounce. “But those are only the Halflings with the papers to prove it. Volcar is the easiest place for the amber-blooded to hide. Mortals from every realm congregated there once Aemon established his rule. Elvish features are easier to pass for Mortal.”

Gwyn ripped her bread into tiny pieces. “Not when Damien orders his men to prick the palm of every resident—man, woman, and child.”

“He goes from raiding villages to an entire city?” I stood and started pacing in front of the hearth. The flames flared as my control slipped.

“It’s a trap.” Dynara crossed her arms. “He is trying to lure us out to battle at his convenience.”

Riven nodded. “Ten thousand men is not even a quarter of his army.”

“Dynara is right.” Syrra threw her napkin onto her plate. The news was enough to turn even her voracious appetite. “Damien wishes to lure us into a fight so he can observe our strengths before we come for his city.”

I cocked my jaw to the side. “He wants to see what kind of magic we have.”

“Exactly.”

“And kill the Halflings before you can turn them,” Riven added.

Fyrel’s face soured. “He’ll harvest their blood first.” She rubbed her arm where Damien’s men had prodded her for weeks.

Gerarda grabbed Elaran’s thigh protectively as if Damien’s soldiers were about to storm through the door. “He won’t care how many of his men die. He just wants to watch. To count how many Fae we have and give himself enough time to strategize how best to protect his city.”

Elaran wrapped her arm along the back of the chair they shared. “There will be no way to hide it. He could have hundreds of soldiers with magic eyes at this point. Anything we do we must expect him to see.”

Gerarda’s lip curled over her sharp teeth. “He’s using the Halflings as bait. And he will use this as an excuse to kill as many of us as he can.”

Nikolai dropped his fork. It clattered against the table. “Unless we do not answer the call.”

The entire room went silent. I didn’t know if they were more shocked by the suggestion or that it was Nikolai who had been the one to suggest it.

Riven’s mouth hung open. “You would have us sit here and do nothing while thousands of our kin are murdered.”

“If it means losing the advantage in the war, then perhaps it’s the best call.” Nikolai shrugged his shoulders. “Preventing their deaths only for Damien to keep control in the end damns us all.”

Riven shook his head. “You do not mean that. You have been by my side risking your life for the Halflings from the very start of this rebellion, and now you want to stand by while thousands more than we’ve ever saved are slaughtered?”

Nikolai’s mouth hardened. “Don’t judge me, Riventh. Not when I learned how to risk the lives of others to suit my needs from you .”

“Enough! This feud helps no one.” Vrail stood and flung her napkin between them like a flag.

I turned to her. “How many more Halflings are in the capital?”

Vrail froze. “Twice as many, at least.”

Riven’s frown deepened, and as he leaned back against the wall, he nodded to Syrra. “How long would we need to recuperate from battle before we could attack the capital?”

The Elf bit her lip as she did the calculations. “Assuming none of the Fae were gravely injured, a fortnight at least.”

Riven’s shoulders fell. “More than enough time for Damien to devise a defense.”

“Or an attack,” Gerarda interjected.

Syrra lifted her chin. “I agree with my nephew. It is our duty to ensure we defeat Damien. We cannot spread our resources thin now.”

Nikolai gave her a sniff nod.

Vrail crossed her arms, her leg still bouncing. “I want to fight.” She gave Nikolai an apologetic look. “For the Halflings and for the burial sites. They cover the mountains of Volcar, all from my clan. If Damien destroys them, then I cannot use my gifts to reclaim that history. We’d be losing more than lives.”

“There will be nothing left for you to reclaim if Damien holds onto his reign.” Riven stepped forward from the wall, the tendons in his neck flexing as he nodded at Nikolai. “I concur with Nik. Defeat must be our priority. Our only priority.”

Something softened in Nikolai’s brow for a moment but then it was gone, his mouth hard and tight once more.

“The Faemother gave me my gifts.” Elaran stood from her seat. “I shall use them as she commands.”

Gerarda nodded in agreement. “My sword will swing wherever Keera needs it.”

Myrrah pushed her chair back from the table. She had been entirely silent since Pirmiith and Dynara walked in.

She made her way to me and grabbed my hand. “It is unfair that so many choices have been left to you in this fight. The one who wins the battle is not always the smartest, but the one who can swing their blade swiftly and with confidence.” Her fingers squeezed mine. “There is no one else I would trust to make those decisions than you, Keera. My sails are yours to command.”

My lip trembled as I looked up at Feron. In the dim light from the hearth, I could see the years that had marked his face. The ages of loss he had lived through and the decisions he had made to survive them.

“What say you?” I asked, ignoring the way the words shook along my tongue.

Feron leaned on his cane, his brows pinched as he considered the question. “I would say that I am not a seer, but I am someone who once had to choose between fighting for all and saving a few.” A tear fell from Feron’s cheek, his voice cracking before he spoke again. “And I have lived with those regrets every day since, yet my people have survived. I have no way of knowing if making a different choice would have meant the end of us.”

“How did you decide before?” I turned to Vrail and Nikolai. They could give us the exact numbers to analyze if we gave them enough time. But every minute wasted would mean more Halflings lost.

Feron let out a deep breath. “Nothing but my intuition. That is all you ever truly have.”

Myrrah squeezed my hand and gave me a pointed look. Who else had been balancing these decisions for decades and who else knew Damien as well as I did? My gut was not a blunt object, but a sharpened weapon, specifically honed for a moment such as this.

There was no time to convene a council. There was not even enough time for more debate. Someone had to make the decision, and I was not going to back down from the choice this time. I didn’t care that Elverath had marked me as a leader the day my eyes turned gold, or if the Light Fae had the day they sealed me in that tree, none of those choices mattered.

But this one did. Because it was mine.

I turned to Syrra and Gerarda, my decision made.

“Prepare everyone.” I tightened my weapons belt and walked toward the door. “We leave at midday.”

Riven grabbed my arm. “Where are you going?”

“To talk to Damien.”