Page 49

“In your corner. Always.” Will smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He pushes himself up using the table. “Right, who wants some tea?” he asks.

Fifteen minutes and five cups of steaming tea later—Leon politely declined his, and the rest of the fae have to share due to shortage of cups—it’s time to tell Will the truth.

“I didn’t kill my parents, Will,” I say. “But I assume you’d already worked that out.”

“Was it that fae prince they talked about?” he asks, and I notice the way his eyes flick to the soldiers. Will was always sharp.

“No,” I say. “It was my aunt. She had them assassinated so she could take the throne—and then she framed the fae prince so no one would suspect her.”

“Yes, I thought it might be something like that,” he says, calmly taking a sip of his tea.

“And also, everyone in this room except for you, me, and Tira is fae,” I say in the same tone. The soldiers stiffen around me, but Will just takes another sip of his tea.

“Yes, I thought they might be,” he says mildly. “The dog too?”

“Agathyrian, actually,” I say. “It has four tails when it’s not glamoured.”

Will nods like this makes perfect sense. After a pause, he sighs.

“I’m sorry that you never got to meet them,” he says, and I know at once who he’s talking about.

“Did you know them, when you worked at the palace?” I ask, unable to keep the hopeful note from my voice.

“I was in their personal guard for a time. It’s why they trusted me to take the post.”

“So they cared enough to choose someone they knew, but not enough to visit me,” I say, trying not to sound bitter.

“That was your mother’s decision. I think she thought it would be easier.

She was like that, sometimes. Practical over everything.

She was a great ruler, but she felt that being queen meant she had to put the softer parts of herself away.

She used to say sentimentality was the ultimate luxury—and that it was one she couldn’t afford.

Your father didn’t like being away from you, but I could tell he was afraid for you and believed you’d be safer as long as you remained as hidden as possible.

And then later in their marriage…” Will pauses, as if he’s worried he’s said too much.

“They’re dead Will, you can hardly be indiscreet about them now,” I push.

He swallows and nods.

“Later in their marriage, Alaric seemed to be more willing to give in to Elowen over things. He put up less of a fight. He’d still write to me though.

I don’t think she knew, but he’d send a letter every couple of months to ask how you were.

Not just if you were safe, but…little things.

He wished to know what foods you liked, which games you enjoyed. What made you laugh.”

I look down into my tea, tears pricking my eyes. I sense Leon shift by the door, wanting to reach for me, I think. I quickly clear my throat and straighten.

“Thank you for telling me that, Will. The thing is, we didn’t come here to reminisce about my parents. What we really want to know is about anyone you might be in contact with who still works at the palace. Do you think?—”

But before I can finish my sentence, Hyllus abruptly stands, the soldiers turning to him.

“Movement outside,” he says. “Ten humans, and they’re armed.”

Leon

As soon as Hyllus stands, I’m immediately on the alert. We’re a long way from home and technically in enemy territory. There’s no way I’m getting complacent.

“Movement outside,” he says. “Ten humans, and they’re armed.”

“I’m on it,” Alastor calls as he sprints for the door. The rest of us follow, but we know he should be the first one out there.

“Stay here, just for now,” I ask Morgana. She glances at Tira and Will and then nods. She wants to keep an eye on her friends as much as I do on her.

The rest of us exit the cottage to find Alastor already standing on the porch calling on his terrial power, a whirlwind of sand beginning to spin in front of the house.

Ten feet away are the men and women Hyllus heard coming.

They aren’t in any kind of uniform, but their swords look sharp enough.

They back up as Alastor’s wall of sand spirals toward them, some of them pulling their shirts and scarves up over their faces to protect themselves.

It won’t help them much, not when Alastor is literally in his element.

“Spread out,” I bark to my soldiers, who leave the porch to form a defensive line in front of the cottage. The sand barrier should keep the intruders back, but I want to make sure no one can slip through.

That’s when I sense movement out of the corner of my eye—another man coming around from behind the cottage.

He doesn’t appear armed, but his eyes are fixed on Alastor as he makes a beeline toward him.

I can’t reach him in time, and my geostri power is slow on this terrain.

I signal to Phaia, but I can tell she’ll be too late with her sensic power as well.

“Alastor!” I shout in warning.

My friend turns in time to spot him, but not to stop his outstretched hand brushing Alastor’s elbow.

Alastor’s eyes roll into the back of his head, and he hits the ground, body convulsing against the wooden floor of the porch. Yells echo across the beach as his sand barrier collapses. My soldiers run forward to meet the humans, steel clashing against steel.

I charge at Alastor’s attacker, sword raised, just as Will Mercer sprints from the house, looking aghast.

“Stop!” he shouts, throwing up his hands. “Stop, please.”

He steps between me and the man I was about to strike down.

“Step aside,” I order Will, but to his credit, the old man doesn’t budge.

“Tell your soldiers to stand down,” Will says, and I hear in his voice the commanding tone of a captain.

I also realize he’s talking to both me and Alastor’s attacker.

The man reluctantly signals to his comrades to fall back.

When they do, my soldiers slow their attack and glance toward me, unsure whether to pursue the fight.

“These people are not your enemies,” Will says.

“Then who the gloam are they, and why are they attacking us?” I growl.

“They’re part of a group called the Hand of Ralus,” Will says as Ana and Tira hurry out of the cottage behind him. Shock jolts through me at the name, followed by the sharp pinch of rage as the old man keeps explaining. “Some people call them rebels, but they’re a group dedicated to?—”

“Oh I know all about them,” I say, lifting my sword again. “And these people are definitely my enemies.”