Page 29

Keltania

The sounds of cracking and clinking fill the space, and every once in a while, chunks of ice ricochet from the storm in the center of the room.

“Should—should we do something?” Zana clutches her chest and takes a wobbly step forward. “Gods. Maybe this was a mistake…”

“Are you kidding?” I rest a hand on her shoulder and tug her back a few inches. “If I have to guess, they’re both having the time of their lives. Leave them.”

Doing okay in there?

“I’m fine! Ow—ugh!”

You sure? You just did the transfer… I mean, if she’s too much for you…

“I’m fine. She’s just—AHH—this girl is a terror!”

The squall clears, and the ice coating the floor fades, and Valen and Suria are finally visible again. She’s on her knees, and he has the tip of his icy sword hovering in front of her face.

“Valen!” Zana shakes her head, covering her forehead with her hand.

“Wow!” Suria says, climbing to her feet. Valen’s sword evaporates, leaving a small pool of water at his feet. She’s looking at him like he hung the moon. “You have to teach me how to make my own weapon! That was amazing!”

“I don’t know how to be anything but amazing, kid.” Valen smiles at her, then turns to me. “Could you show our charming guest back to her chambers?”

“I think that’s a good idea.” I motion for Suria to follow me from the room. If this continues, they’ll bring the roof down on our heads.

As we make our way through the estate, she watches everything with eagle eyes, mouth agape and gaze focused. “This place is huge. Valen must be compensating for something, huh?”

“I—”

She shrugs. “What? Tell me I’m wrong!”

She’s going to be a handful. “You don’t know it yet, but you and him? You’re going to get along great.”

“Ew.” She rolls her eyes, then looks away, but I catch the smallest flicker of amusement. Her shoulders sag—just for a moment—and she glares up at me. “Am—am I a prisoner here?”

I stop walking and turn. “Of course not. Why would you think that?”

“I might not remember much about my life before I got to the Rotting Ledge, but I did okay.” She dips her chin and shakes her head. “I was fine on my own.”

“No one is fine on their own, Suria. Trust me…”

She mumbles something under her breath as we pass through the courtyard.

“The druid that’s coming for us? She’s dangerous. If we’d left you out there and she found you…”

She takes several steps back. “Well, aren’t you a druid?” Her eyes narrow, and the small bit of vulnerability she let bleed through fades. “Shouldn’t I be wary of you, too?”

“I’m a good druid. It’s my job to protect the Winter Fae—and that includes you.”

She seems to relax a bit.

We leave the courtyard and head to the main wing of the estate. When we reach her room, I bow. “You’ll be safe here. Someone will get you for dinner, but if you need anything…” I pivot and point to the door across the hall. “I’m right in there. You can come and get me for any reason, okay?”

“Fine.” She steps into the room and flicks a finger toward my door. “But I won’t need anything.” After hesitating briefly, she adds, “You know… With me and Valen—and, I bet, you—we’re going to make that Aphelian bitch wish she was never born.”

She closes the door, and I sag back against the wall. If the others manifest their magic, then Suria might just be right. We could win…

…

As promised, the monarchs gather in the courtyard first thing the next morning.

“You’re quick.” Gensted dodges as Valen swings, pivoting and ducking under his next attack. He grunts and swings again, catching the corner of Gen’s shoulder. He wobbles but manages to keep his balance. “I suppose that’s a good thing, considering your…size.”

“Huh.” Valen spins and drops to the ground as Gensted delivers a high kick that sails harmlessly over his head. When it passes, he launches himself forward and grabs the Autumn Fae’s ankle. Using the momentum, he yanks and topples him to the ground. “I was about to say the same thing.”

“Keltania taught you those moves, I assume.” Gensted winks at me. I shouldn’t be here, but I couldn’t let go of my curiosity. Seeing them all in action together—even without the magic—is far too tempting.

Plus, I need to make sure no one tries to kill Suveo.

Maybe.

“Seems like they need a bit of work.” Gensted stretches, hesitating for a moment before pulling off his tunic.

“What—” Valen stares. “What the hell are you doing?”

Gensted looks from Valen to the shirt in his hand. “Feeling a bit inadequate?”

“There’s a foot of snow on the ground,” Valen remarks. “How are you not cold?”

Gensted shrugs. “I guess some of us—”

“Ahhh!” Wren charges from Gensted’s left. His back is to her, and if it’d been anyone else, she might have had a fair chance. But Gensted is a warrior. A beast. He bends just a hair, and as she reaches him, he pivots so that he lifts her off the ground and hauls her over his shoulder. “Nice try, Spring.”

She snarls and kicks and grabs a handful of Gensted’s hair, yanking hard enough to make me cringe. He howls and drops her. As she’s sliding off, she drags her fingernails down his bare back. “Hah!” she says, climbing to her feet. “Didn’t see that coming, did you?”

He glares at her. “Hair-pulling and scratching? Really?”

“You’re bigger than me,” she says, dusting bits of snow and ice from her leathers. “A better fighter, too. I’ve learned the hard way to make do with what I can use—and sometimes, that means getting creative.”

“You have potential. I could show you some techniques.”

“Techniques.” Suveo snorts. He’s standing off to the side, waving his hand at the closest tree and scowling. He whirls on Valen. “It’s been hours now and I’ve seen not a glimmer of power. How do I know this hasn’t been one big distraction? That you haven’t sent your Winter Guards to capture the Summer Lands?”

Wren frowns. “Valen brought us here to unite us, Suveo. From everything I’ve seen since arriving, he wouldn’t need to lure you out if he wanted to overtake you. He’d simply have to do it. Of all of us, he has the most intact court and the most resources.”

Suveo’s face pales.

“Well done, Spring,” Gensted says with a snort. He winks at me. “Now he knows about the attack. Care to tell him all Lord Valen’s secrets?”

“Will you shut up?” Valen glares at him. “Stop trying to cause trouble. There’s no damn attack.”

Wren turns an interesting shade of red. “I’m trying to say that Valen did what no other has done. He shared his magic! The transfer Zana performed was experimental. We need to be patient.”

Valen sighs and tilts his head to the sky. Everyone is antsy, and I can’t blame them, but this is starting to wear thin. “We were told a day to two weeks. It’s been less than twenty-four hours.”

Wren frowns. “But Aphelian—”

“Yes. Let’s talk about the druids.” Suveo shakes his head and jabs a finger at me. “Speaking of druids—why does everyone trust Valen’s little pet? She could easily be spying for Aphelian. Didn’t you say that she knows the woman personally? I’ve heard Fae talking. They all think—”

“Tania is on our side,” Wren says. She flashes me an encouraging smile.

“And you think that why? Because she told you so?”

Gensted glares at Suveo for a moment before Wren steps in and leads the Autumn Lord to the far corner of the courtyard. “How about showing me those techniques,” she says to him as they walk away.

Suveo grunts and goes back to trying to assault the tree. Valen watches him, then smiles.

Please don’t do anything stupid…

“Define stupid.”

He taps his foot against the ground several times—doing his best to act innocent, no doubt. Then, with a quick glance in either direction, he bends and lays his hand flat against the earth.

The shift in temperature is subtle. I doubt anyone else even notices. But when the ground shakes a bit and Suveo screams, everyone turns. Four walls of thick ice break from the grass, encasing the Summer monarch in a frozen cage.

“How dare you?” he roars.

“Huh. We can still hear him.” Valen saunters up to the prison and presses his finger against the ice. “I can fix that, though.” An icy dome forms atop the cage, drowning out Suveo’s furious screams.

“That’s not nice, Valen,” Wren says. She takes several steps toward the cage but stops when Suveo begins to hammer relentlessly against the ice. “Pissing him off isn’t going to help things.”

She’s right, you know.

“I’m just trying to help,” Valen says, snickering. He taps the ice several times. “I thought maybe a fight-or-flight situation might help him manifest his magic.”

“Well, if it works, I’m betting you’re the first one he takes out.” Gensted crosses his arms and leans back against a large percher tree. After fidgeting for a few seconds, he frowns, looking down at his pants, then at his hands. “Is it warm out here?”

Wren studies him, then rises onto her toes to press her hand to his forehead. “I think you have a fever, Gensted. Maybe you should get some rest?”

“I feel fine. I’m just warm. I—” Smoke billows from beneath his boots, thick, dark curls wafting up to wrap around his legs.

Wren gasps and stumbles away. She coughs, waving her hand wildly to disperse some of the smoke. “What’s happening?”

Gensted takes several steps back, hands out and fingers splayed as flames erupt from the tips of each digit. His expression is a mask of terror, mouth gaping. “Fuck!”

I start forward, but Valen tugs me back. A flood of sympathy rushes between us. “Don’t. He needs to deal with this on his own. Accept it.”

This is what we’d hoped for, but for Gensted, it’s his biggest nightmare.

The flame spreads, engulfing his arms, then creeping across his torso and down each leg. He stumbles sideways, stopping only when he collides with Suveo’s icy prison. The thing melts instantly, leaving Suveo scurrying on all fours to escape the mounting flame.

“Breathe, Gensted. Try to relax,” Valen says. His voice is calm. “It’s terrifying, I know, but the harder you fight, the worse it will be. Trust me. Just let it in, welcome it.”

Several moments pass, and the flames begin to dim. When the smoke finally clears, Gensted is standing in a section of grass, the snow melted—and he’s naked.

“Oh, my…Gods.” Wren blushes but doesn’t turn away. If anything, she moves in to get a better look.

“Really?” Valen says, sighing.

“Seems like you’ll be needing a new wardrobe for the time being. At least until you learn some control,” someone says. I turn to find Delkin rushing toward us across the courtyard. “I think I know a dragon that might be willing to donate some scales…” He shrugs out of his cloak and wraps it around Gensted, who’s staring, somewhat dazed, and ushers him into the house.

“This is a good sign, right?” Wren stares after Delkin and Gensted. I swear, she even licks her lips. “Do you think I could be next?”

“Could be,” Valen says, smiling.

Wren lets out a squeal. “This is so exciting!”

I might not like Wren, but her enthusiasm is infectious. So much of our plans hinged on the others manifesting their magic. Now that it’s becoming a reality, the ember of hope I felt with Suria has fanned into flame.

Wren laughs. “Aren’t you excited, Suveo?”

“Is there a reason I should be?” Suveo laughs. It’s dark and angry and sends a chill up my spine. Turning to Valen, he says, “If you’ve wasted my time—if my magic fails to manifest—Aphelian’s threats will look like child’s play compared to what I’ll do.”