Page 71 of Faeling (Monstrous World #4)

It took the better part of a day to travel up the coast to Fallorian. Aided by a southerly wind and the strong arms of the rowers, the orcish and fae ships cut through the water, foam and spray splashing off the sleek hulls.

By the time the tallest spires of Fallorian rose above the sea cliffs, it was late afternoon.

The saturated orange light bathed the city, making it gleam like polished abalone shell.

The ships followed the rocky coast, a wall of black cliffs topped in swaying grasses to their right and the vast ocean to their left, until white limestone jutted out from the cliffs.

They followed the harbor walls instead, great curving things that reached out into the sea like open arms. Or pincers.

The sea was something the fae had never been able to control. Although they had several legendary shipwrights, the extent of their maritime adventures was to the Twins and back. Severed from the land, any fae felt unmoored at sea.

Fallorian, with its fae-made harbor, was no exception. Lacking a natural bay, the city instead extended out into the depths, forcing a large pool of calmer water for its docks and ships.

The cliffs too had been carved into submission.

The dark stone had been chipped away to accommodate the pale limestone the city was renowned for.

Nearly as white as marble, it shone in the late-day sun, a blinding beacon.

Flecks of crystal in the stone caught the light, making the city glitter.

Most commanding of all was the sight of the palace, layers and layers of it standing as some great bird of prey on the edge of the dark cliffs, just waiting to tip over into the open air and take flight.

Its spiraling citadel stood tallest of all, overlooking a dangerous, swirling span of water just outside the harbor, littered with jagged rocks.

Ravenna gazed upon it all, the heritage of her father’s people, and saw nothing but exposed ribs, bleached by the sun.

The city’s facade was beautiful, to be sure, but in the way crystal or snow was. Pale. Cold. Forbidding.

Her gaze traveled up the many looping levels of the city, fixing on the great citadel at the top. She’d heard of the palace, how its architecture, gardens, and pavilions were rivaled nowhere on the continent. That was where her parents had been slaughtered. It was where she’d find her azai .

As the ships sailed into the harbor, the bond inside her drew taut. Just a little longer, a little closer.

There was no one to greet them. The docks were abandoned, the other white oak ships pulled to the perimeter of the seawall, allowing the captains to steer their ships up to the docks for disembarking.

For all the cacophony they made, the full force of berserkers marching from their ships, the city met them with an eerie silence.

Are you ready, Crow?

Ravenna looked up at Oberon solemnly. He’d refused to let her leave without him; he, his younger unicorns, and Leita’s Thailia had all boarded her ship, determined to protect her for as long as they could.

I’m ready for it to be over.

Oberon buffeted her face with his warm breath, nuzzling her cheek. Brave girl. Keep your courage.

Ducking under his head, Ravenna hugged his neck and buried her face there. His warmth and horsey musk filled her senses, a momentary relief from her terror.

Thank you for being with me.

Always, Crow. To the end.

Wiping at her eyes, Ravenna refused her tears. Instead, she took a running leap, throwing her leg over Oberon’s bare back.

Oberon turned to walk down the gangplank, the other unicorns behind him. Along the stone docks, they gathered in a diamond formation around Ravenna and Oberon, a wall of horseflesh to protect her—or at least, to get her to the palace.

It left Asta free to look out for Leita, who discreetly walked alongside Thalia at the rear of the formation.

At the head of the dock, a fae lifted a horn to her lips and blew. A melancholy sound echoed across the water, stealing Ravenna’s breath.

The escorting fae fell into formation at the front and back of the column of berserkers. Off the ships, there was nowhere to go but forward.

The fae led the way through their city of winding cobbled streets. Even the main streets were narrow, lined on each side by tall limestone buildings. It forced the berserkers to march just three abreast, making them grumble and exchange unhappy looks.

Ravenna bit her cheek, willing them to stay the course.

She’d explained to them, standing atop her stump and shouting so everyone could hear, what Allarion meant to do.

She described what she could of the city and what the warriors could expect.

And most of all, she emphasized that upon reaching the palace, they were to secure Vallek at all costs. He was their priority.

Their long column snaked up the gentle slope, passing beneath peaked arches crowned in coral. A few curious faces peeked out from otherwise shuttered windows, but no one moved on the side streets or alleyways.

The city almost seemed empty, a ghostly remnant of a civilization that had rotted away long ago. More arches denoted other main thoroughfares, just as narrow. From these they finally found others.

Fae soldiers, armed and helmed, began to fall in line, surrounding their column. Encased in fae escorts, the air grew tense.

Careful to keep her face expressionless, Ravenna turned her head to look at the new arrivals.

Her breath caught in her throat to see a familiar face glancing up at her.

Beneath the brim of his helm, Allarion winked at her.

Ravenna had to bite back a heaving sigh of relief. He’s done it.

Indeed, confirmed Oberon, just look how many are his.

Looking more closely at the fae soldiers, she realized some didn’t wear gloves, at least one in three. That had been their agreed upon mark, one she’d advised the berserkers of.

They weren’t alone in this fight.

Have Thalia tell Leita, she told Oberon.

It was hard to say exactly with their forces kept to the narrow roads, but Ravenna thought, when it came to the fighting—for this would surely come to fighting—Allarion’s recruits and Vallek’s berserkers would be at least evenly matched against Amaranthe’s forces.

She clung to that hope as they ascended, getting closer and closer to the palace.

As they rounded a corner, a strange noise echoed up from the harbor. Ravenna and others turned to see a heavy chain rise from the water between the two pincers of seawall, effectively barring the way in or out.

Shit.

If the orcs were to sail from Fallorian, Amaranthe would have to be dead.

As if Ravenna needed any more reason.

Up through the city they marched, hundreds of boots the only sound in the white city. No wind stirred, no birds flitted between roofs. Fountains sat dry, workshops closed, and the decorative plum trees stood wilted, their dark red leaves gathering on the cobbles.

It was a city abandoned. Had the citizens fled before the arrival of the orcish force? Or had they been driven away?

She wished she could ask Allarion, but there would be no opportunity. It also didn’t matter. The fate of the fae wasn’t Ravenna’s concern and never had been. She couldn’t indulge in empathy now.

The walls of the palace finally rose above them, the gates thrown wide.

Great wooden doors had been reinforced with bronze polished to a mirror shine, yet the heavy iron hinges carried flecks of rust. Pavers were missing in the wide promenade leading up to a set of shallow white steps, and the lawns of the front pavilion had been left to grow wild.

Up they went over the stairs, beneath a scallop-edged arch leading into an open-air hypostyle hall.

Old wisteria vines snaked up the fluted marble columns, obscuring the worn friezes carved into the rounded surfaces.

The air was old and chilly inside, long shadows pooling in the corners and giving the painted figures along the plastered walls an almost ghoulish appearance.

Led through the hall, they found the open sky again.

To the right, through a crumbling peaked arch, stood a crystal pavilion.

Geodes the size of Ravenna had been artfully laid around the pavilion, as well as bursts of celestine and quartz tetragonal clusters bigger than an onager.

They looked like great blooming bushes or hedges, warning all not to touch with their pointed edges.

To the left was a pavilion full of ornamental trees and hedges. Some had been cut into figures. Many were some sort of flowering fruit, like cherry and apple and plum, which in spring would fill the space with fragrance and delicate petals.

The beauty of it was marred by two conspicuous dark stains on the white pavers.

A cold weight settled in Ravenna’s stomach.

That’s where they died.

Keep your focus, Oberon warned gently.

With effort, Ravenna pulled her gaze away. She couldn’t think of them now. Even if this had all begun in their name, she couldn’t allow their deaths to haunt her in these next critical moments. Nothing could distract her aim.

Through the palace they climbed, more sets of shallow steps leading incrementally upward. They passed through so many halls and pavilions, it was almost a surprise when they finally reached the citadel.

Tall iron doors creaked open, spreading a shaft of light onto the otherwise gloomy floor. The white marble, inlaid with star motifs of different colored stone, looked almost soft with the layers of dust coating it.

Grimy stained-glass windows let in meager shards of colored light, but most of the illumination came from a hole in the far wall, the top of one window and casement broken. It allowed in the sounds of the sea and the late afternoon sun, just enough to see by.