Page 31

Fury built in my gut as I watched August disappear up the spiralling stairs, his footsteps echoing back down to me as he left me far behind.

I couldn’t let a staircase unravel this reunion, but I also couldn’t very well make it to my marriage bed if this climb saw me bedridden for the next week while I tried to recover from the agony it would leave me in.

More footsteps approached and I moved aside as several other high-ranking members of Earl Tarlord’s retinue hurried on up the stairs, some of them murmuring greetings to me while others seemed not to notice me at all.

I ground my jaw.

I’d worked too hard to get to this moment and I would not allow myself to go unnoticed in it.

I stepped around the carved stag to the left of me and moved into the centre of the curving stairwell, tilting my head back so that I could see through the circular space which led all the way to the topmost floor.

Magic tingled in my palms. I wasn’t terribly powerful, but I had worked hard on my skills so that I could make the most of my earth magic whenever I required it. And I required it now more than ever.

I only hesitated a moment before raising my hands and allowing my power to surge free of my grasp, twin vines shooting upwards through the centre of the stairwell, hurtling all the way to the very top floor before winding around the wooden beams which supported the roof there.

This was more than a little unorthodox and no doubt it could be seen as a frivolous waste of my magic, but I could pass it off as excitement to reunite with my betrothed.

No one would question that. I might have to face the judgement of acting like a lovestruck fool but if it got me to The Horned Table in time for this meeting and without the agonising pain the climb would cause me, then I was willing to take that knock to my pride.

I guided the vines with my power, creating a swing for me to sit upon before placing my weight into them and holding on tightly.

Murmurs came from the stairs as people began to notice the vines and peer down over the balustrade to see who had cast them. My time for backing out of this had come and gone.

I raised my chin, aiming to look as poised as any woman might be able to while hurtling through the air at speed, then tugged on my magical connection to the vines and shot skyward.

I gasped as I sped past floor after floor, my gut swooping and the ground speeding away beneath me.

I’d exerted too much force, expelled too much power, and as I shot past an affronted looking August on the sixth floor, I knew I was in danger of colliding with the roof if I didn’t regain control over my magic swiftly.

I threw my hand out in panic, my weight lurching sideways and almost toppling me from the swing I’d crafted before the vines wrapped around my waist and flung me out onto the top floor of the castle.

I landed heavily on my feet, a cry catching in my throat as I fought to choke it back down while pain exploded through my right hip.

Through some miracle, I managed to remain upright, my hand flying out to steady myself and landing upon a hard forearm.

“I apologise,” I gasped, my words falling away as I looked up into the deep green eyes of the man who had become my unwilling prop.

“Quite the entrance, Lady Septa,” Earl Tarlord deadpanned, his gaze roaming over me while I stumbled back, removing my hand from his arm and hastily righting my gown so that I could drop into a bow before him.

The Earl was tall and broad, his body not unlike the huge Manticore he shifted into on the battlefield.

He was a handsome man, with dark hair which hung in loose waves to his nape, his gaze piercing with a strong jaw and a mouth I had always felt was suited to smiling, though I couldn’t say I’d ever seen him tempted into doing so.

He was young for an Earl at only thirty-seven years, but his eyes always seemed so much older.

No doubt the grief he had endured in the events which led to the beginning of his reign ten years prior had left their mark heavily upon him. The Flamebringers had launched an attack on our people which had seen not only his parents dead but his sisters, brother, wife and two young children too.

The retribution he had rained down upon the warriors who had stolen so much from him had been something truly terrifying to behold. To this day, his throne room was still decorated with the skulls and bones of the legion he had killed in vengeance. All eighty-seven of them.

Our Earl had well and truly earned his reputation as a vicious, savage ruler, but in my time spent at Stone Castle, I had come to see something more than rage and bloodlust in his darkened eyes. I saw the endless pool of pain which lie there too.

Rather than diminishing my belief in him as our leader, it only made my dedication to him stronger. For only a truly powerful ruler could continue on in the name of their people under the weight of such grief.

“I apologise,” I stammered. “I only wished to be here to greet my betrothed, and I think perhaps the excitement of his return made me act a little foolishly…”

The Earl grunted, his eyes dipping to my right leg for the briefest fraction of a moment, and my gut plummeted.

He knew . The weaknesses I had fought so hard to hide from him and the people closest to him for all this time were clearly no secret to him at all.

I braced for some cruel comment or perhaps a dismissal from the room entirely but neither came.

“If only all of us were so lucky as to receive such a jubilant welcome upon our return from the field of war,” he said loudly before turning away to take his place at The Horned Table.

Tittering laughter and cheers of agreement quickly followed his words as the sycophantic members of the Earl’s inner circle all hurried to follow his lead and welcome me into their presence and offer teasing smiles and sweet encouragement for my excitement.

I responded in kind, commenting on the beautiful dress Lady Sharma was wearing and asking after Lord Corvet’s son who had lost a leg in a recent battle against the Cascadians.

None of us moved toward The Horned Table until our Earl took his place at the head of it, seating himself in the decorative throne which had been fashioned from countless stag antlers that had been gathered in the woodland over hundreds of years – signs of mother Virgo’s blessing left for our people to find.

The table itself was shaped like a horseshoe with the Earl at its turn and the two points branching out towards the huge windows which overlooked the sweeping view of Avanis beyond, where mountains and valleys ran away into the distance in every shade of green, interspersed by the glimmering blue of rivers and lakes and warmed by the sun which beamed down on all of it.

The tips of the table were fashioned from marble in the shape of antlers, the grey stone stained with the blood of all those who had spoken at its head in the two hundred years of its use.

Earl Tarlord turned his head, that heavy gaze falling directly upon me and rooting me in place before he inclined his chin the smallest amount and gestured with a turn of his hand to the seat on his left.

My throat constricted at the invitation, my feet lurching into action before I could fully take in the reality of what was happening, and in my flustered state, I stepped too heavily onto my aching leg.

My knee turned, my ankle barking in protest and my hip wrenching painfully before the floor came rushing for my face.

Shock ricochetted up my arms, my elbows screaming as I collided with the stone floor, and an audible gasp sounded from every Fae in the room.

The backs of my eyes burned with shame, apologies stumbling over my lips as I fumbled to right myself, the long sleeves of my gown catching over my fingers and making me slip again.

The sound of the outer door banging open barely even registered to me until firm fingers coiled around my upper arm and someone heaved me back to my feet.

“Thank you,” I stammered, shame staining my cheeks pink as I fought to raise my eyes to meet those of my saviour.

“Can’t say I was expecting to get you on your back so early in the day, Septa, but at least I know you’re keen to make it there for me.”

I blinked furiously, every carefully laid plan, every notion I’d had of this moment swept away and replaced instead with an image of me scrambling on the floor while the man who I had waited too long to wed walked in to find me there like a lizard on its belly.

“I…I…”

“Your Earl awaits you, Alestro,” August sneered, and I looked around to find that he and every other person in the room had found their way to their seats and now all sat staring at the two of us. “Or is this performance more important than his time?”

Alestro released me, pushing his fingers into the strands of dark hair which had fallen into his eyes and sweeping them back as he strode around The Horned Table and took up position between the two stone prongs at its heart.

I scrambled around the other side of the table, claiming the seat the Earl had marked for me at his side while wishing he’d simply allowed me to take a place away from the focus of the room.

My bones ached from my fall, fresh bruises no doubt blossoming already, and my cheeks only seemed capable of burning hotter with every passing moment.

“Swear to your truth,” Earl Tarlord commanded, and I looked up to watch as Alestro reached out for the sharpened prongs at the ends of the table and carefully sliced the skin on the backs of his hands open across them.

The deep red of his blood trickled down over the prongs, a heaviness settling into the air as the stone drank in his lifeforce and he repeated the words of ceremony which would bind him to the will of the stars.