Page 61 of Faeling (Monstrous World #4)

For all the excitement of planning their next moves, once they were put into motion, there was little to do but wait and see.

Messengers were sent to Fallorian and Kaldebrak, and Ravenna had to stop herself from looking out on the horizon any time she passed a window, to see if she could spot their return with news.

After the first fortnight, the messengers sent to Kaldebrak returned with confirmation that Kennum would send word north in search of Allarion to pass on Ravenna’s handwritten and sealed missive.

While there was some small relief that her note, written in a cryptic form of ancient faethling even a fae scholar would have trouble deciphering, continued on its journey, Kaldebrak was the last known waypoint.

They wouldn’t know when the message reached Dundúran, nor how long it might take to pass on from there.

The weeks bled into one another, and to keep from going mad with waiting, Ravenna decided she had to find other ways to prepare.

Vallek worked closely with his berserkers, checking over every member with Mattias to root out any more traitors. Thankfully, none were found, and the unit began to heal together through training, overcoming the shame of a traitor in their midst.

If he could train, so would she.

However, Ravenna knew how he felt about her being the one to ambush Amaranthe. They still hadn’t come to an agreement on what the attack would look like.

And so it was to Asta she went instead, finding her one morning in the courtyard outside the garrison barracks. “Train with me? And teach me to fight like an orc.”

The orcess tipped back her head and laughed from her belly upon hearing Ravenna’s request. “You are bold, tristah . I’m glad you aren’t my enemy.”

“Worse. I’m family.” It was the first time she’d quipped about it, and her belly flipped with nerves as the words hung there between them.

Asta huffed a laugh. “That you are.” Putting down her cup, Asta rose and grinned. “All right then, let’s see what you can do.”

Ravenna followed the orcess through the courtyard and around the barracks to the back training yard. It was thankfully almost empty, most of the guards having already completed their training and headed inside for breakfast.

As Asta rummaged through a barrel full of wooden swords, Ravenna asked, “Are you doing this to help me or annoy Vallek?”

“Why can’t it be both?” the orcess snickered. “Besides, we all know, even Vallek, that you will be the one to deliver the killing blow. Keeping it between fae.” She threw Ravenna a wink over her shoulder. “Now, what are you already comfortable with?”

A bit more rummaging procured a practice sword with the right amount of heft for Ravenna.

It was one more commonly used by young, untrained recruits, half the size of normal orcish swords.

She also pulled out a wooden dirk; a standard small dagger for an orc but for her, a longer weapon almost half the length of her sword.

Asta’s brows rose in interest. “The dual-handed style, hmm? I’m intrigued.” Pulling out a serviceable common sword for herself, Asta led her to the center of the training yard. “All right, show me what you know—”

Ravenna’s sword smacked against Asta’s, thrown up just in time. The orcess grunted, dancing backwards, and Ravenna followed, pressing her advantage of surprise.

Her father had spent long years training her in the art of swords and daggers.

It was an ancient way of fighting, preferred more by the common fae fighter than the elegant fencing practiced by the noble sword masters.

It took considerable concentration, training, and daring—dirks were meant to get in close and stab.

Asta guffawed before getting her feet under her. In a moment, she’d stabilized herself to counter Ravenna’s onslaught. The orcess used her superior strength, sending Ravenna skipping backwards.

Retaking her stance, Ravenna braced as Asta rushed her.

Back and forth they danced across the training yard, kicking up dust. Asta was a better and bigger fighter, but Ravenna was fast. And mean.

She didn’t hesitate raking the dull blade of her dirk across Asta’s calf when she had the chance, a blow that would’ve severed the tendons in her heel had they fought with real blades.

Still, that was the worst blow she landed against her opponent.

Asta came at her with all her strength, pushing Ravenna back.

She had to use both sword and dirk to catch Asta’s downward stroke.

Her arms shook under the strain of keeping the sword at bay—just for Asta to punch her in the undefended gut.

—white eyelashes—a white unicorn with violet eyes and a lilac horn—a stream burbled through the meadow—fire crackled across her eyes—

Ravenna went sprawling back into the dirt. She suspected that had hardly been a tap from the strong orcess, but still, it rendered her splayed on the ground.

When she finally got some air back in her lungs, Ravenna chuckled as she wiped at her grimy brow. A great shadow fell over her, Asta’s hand appearing near her face.

She took it, letting the orcess heft her back to her feet in one pull.

“Let’s not tell Vallek about that one, yes?”

“Definitely not.” Shaking off more dust, she said, “Well, can I be taught to fight dirty?”

“Of course. You’ve already got impressive skill. Although, it’s not fighting dirty .” Asta winked. “It’s fighting smart .”

Oberon didn’t much care that she was getting beaten to a pulp every day by Asta, he still insisted on seeing her in person once every three days.

He wasn’t keen on the plan for vengeance, even scowling at Vallek for a whole afternoon when he learned the orc had promised Ravenna the Fae Queen’s head.

You’re supposed to keep her alive, Oberon grumbled his displeasure with Vallek, not support her ridiculous plans.

Wanting to avenge them isn’t ridiculous, she told him for the thousandth time.

Oberon stamped his front right hoof. It is when you go off and get yourself killed.

I’m not going to do that. I’ll have Vallek with me, and two hundred of his best warriors.

Oberon huffed in his horsey way, thick lips flapping. You’re young. You haven’t seen what she’s truly capable of.

No? She killed my parents, Obi. She tortured —the thought caught with a sob in her throat— maman.

That’s the least of what she’ll do if she gets her hands on you.

Vallek had only grown more concerned as the silence stretched for him, watching their wordless argument. Eventually, they just had to leave their argument there, at an impasse.

Ravenna hated being at odds with the two most important males in her life—Oberon over seeking revenge at all, Vallek over who would deliver the killing blow—but just like with the waiting, she had to learn to bear it.

She hoped, when they returned three days later, that Oberon would at least be a little more reasonable.

Instead, he changed tactics.

Is the bond formed with him? he projected loudly at both Ravenna and Vallek. I need to speak with this one directly.

Vallek nearly tripped, his wide gaze fixing on the unicorn with alarm. “That voice…”

Ravenna sighed. “It seems you can hear him now thanks to the bond.”

If she wasn’t mistaken, Vallek seemed to turn a little greener as the realization sunk in. Oberon hardly gave him time to adjust to the idea, launching into a thorough lecture about why Ravenna’s need for revenge was ill-advised and dangerous, complete with hoof stomps and mane tosses.

Ravenna took no pity on either of them, crossing her arms and watching the foals rather than acknowledge Vallek’s sidelong looks pleading for help.

Their dozen guards stood a respectful distance away, fanned out to cover more ground.

This just meant more obstacles for the foals, weaving between the silent orcs, in their new game.

At least one foal attempted to provoke a guard into dueling with her while another had his muzzle buried in a guard’s pack searching for snacks.

The mares looked on, obviously amused by the orcs’ discomfort and happy to have someone else entertaining their young. That they allowed the little ones anywhere close to the guards spoke to how much they trusted Ravenna’s word that the orcs meant none of them harm.

The guards went to pains to prove it, none of them wanting a protective unicorn mare bearing down on them.

And another thing—

Vallek threw up his hands. “I understand your concerns, vini mun . They are mine as well. I have every intention of keeping her alive. I’ll protect her with my life.”

Ravenna threw him a sour look, but Oberon bobbed his head, apparently pleased to hear it.

I understand you orcs are fierce about protecting your mates.

“We are. There’s nothing more precious.”

Oberon couldn’t help a sidelong, patronizing wink at Ravenna hearing Vallek call her precious .

She stuck out her tongue and rolled her eyes, looking away again. The foals were far more amusing than her nanny goat and mate anyway.

Oberon listened as Vallek explained the sacred bond between mates, that when it was formed, it was the strongest magic in this realm.

Smoothly, he transitioned into describing their plan for ambushing Amaranthe, and Ravenna tried not to scowl at how well his politician’s silver tongue worked on Oberon.

It wasn’t long before the infernal pony was nodding along as if he liked the plan.

“And why are you considering it when he tells you?” she grumbled. “Just because he’s a male too doesn’t mean—”

Because you aren’t capable of objectivity, Oberon replied primly.

“Neither is he!” she spluttered. “He’s my azai! ”

Yes, but he can look at this rationally, unlike you. Or at least, his sister can. I should like to meet this Eydis.

Oh, fates, no. The two of them together would be far too cunning and insufferable to bear.

A warm puff of breath on her head had Ravenna looking up to find Callistix hovering over her shoulder.

Don’t pout. It isn’t becoming of a queen.

Yes, grandmare.