Page 23

JACOB

The army grounds are busy as we walk past the training soldiers. The men shout as they spar in the blaring heat, the noise making it hard to hear Nicolas. The slender man keeps his posture straight as we walk next to him, his expression oddly unreadable. It’s frustrating how little he gives away.

“As you can see, my queen, the men train well.” He turns to a path that leads away from the grunts and yells.

As soon as the sounds vanish into the background, my headache becomes a little more manageable again. Squinting, I glare at him. Nickolas has an angle he’s playing, I’m just not sure what it is yet.

“How loyal were you to my father?” Izzy asks, taking me by surprise with her bluntness.

I suppose she got fed up with his games as well. A small smirk forms on my face as pride swells in my chest at her confidence.

“I believe in cruelty towards those who deserve it. Cassandra was a kind soul. He did not deserve her.” Just for a flash, there is pain in his eyes. “Alexander was hopeful, believing he could show Victor how things could be done.” He stops and looks out into the distance. “And you were just a thing to him. A powerful weapon to help him rule. The books he read said that your power would manifest on your nineteenth birthday. They didn’t.” Shrugging, he looks down at Izzy. “Playing a fair game is more predictable. Less chaotic.” He looks away again, towards the training field. “I hate chaos.”

The man is odd.

“You loved her? Casandra.” Izzy’s brows go together as she looks up at him.

“Everyone loved her.” He looks at Izzy with a light scoff.

“What happened to her?” A shimmer forms in her eyes.

She knows what happened, but maybe she will get closure if she hears it from someone else. Sometimes, I still have a hard time believing my mother abandoned me for power, and I heard the awful words coming from her mouth with my own ears.

“She was no longer useful.” I don’t fail to notice how his jaw ticks.

“I see…” Izzy mumbles, her eyes dropping to the ground.

Stealing a quick glance at Nicolas, I slide my fingers through hers and tug her to my side. I can be her strength, just like she is mine. He seems like he wants to say more, but he stays silent.

The man loved Cassandra more than he cares to admit.

Greed and hate. Some people allow it to consume them. It is a high price to pay, and it never ends well. Unfortunately, it will never run out of victims, always leaving pain behind. I can’t fix the world, but I can make this right.

The throne room is done over the top. Paintings with gold rims hang on the walls, and marble statues stand in the corners, looming and watching. The cushions of the throne chair are red velvet, making Izzy look regal and powerful as she sits on it.

It has only been a week, but she has been unwavering with her father’s council. Jorgan has trained her well and continues to do so daily, while Yanuk always stays in the distance, observing. It is a little unnerving how harmless he looks. The man can fight better than most. I would know, we sparred a few times. He has come a long way since I saw him in Louvide.

The last of the council leaves after giving a financial report. I eye Izzy, cautious of the few that linger. She looks worn out with her shoulders slumped, but I know that when we get back to our room, she will be going through those reports, checking every number. She does not trust anyone who worked under her father’s rule, and for that, I am proud.

“I’m afraid this is not it,” Jorgan states, his expression hard to read. “There has been activity outside the city that indicates Sofia’s followers are here. I sent a messenger to Adrian. We will have support, but I advise that you get your army ready as soon as possible.”

Izzy’s chest expands as she sucks in air. We talked about this and were expecting such an event, but Izzy worries she will lead her people to death. She will not. Every night, she studies maps and reads war tactics books. A few days ago, she even went to the army training base and met with the lieutenants and generals. I expected pushback from them, but Nickolas glared at them, and they listened to her.

Nickolas seems to want Izzy to do well, but no one can be trusted. We have someone spying on him just in case. Victor and Alexander were his cousins; he may harbor ill feelings or want the throne for himself. Even if he did say that he hated what Victor stood for. One cannot be too certain among the power-hungry leeches.

The pain inside my head makes me wince, forcing me to shut my eyes. These headaches have been persistent in the last few days, becoming more and more frequent. At times, it feels disabling, preventing me from thinking straight.

In the middle of this mess, Izzy was insistent that we send out letters to the nearby countries and the black market to search for lineage papers of demons. This type of search will take time that we don’t have, but she would not take no for an answer. I obliged, but we need to stop these followers.

“At the rate that her followers are piling into the city, we have a week,” Jorgan says to Izzy, but shoots me a confused look when I groan from the discomfort coming from the front of my skull.

“You should really see a doctor about that,” Yanuk comments.

I glare at him, irritation flaring up quickly.

“Yes, that brilliant idea has not crossed my mind,” I snap, my tone harsher than I want it to be.

I clench my jaw, displeased at how easily agitated I got.

“Hhmm.” Yanuk hums, unbothered by my attitude. “I know a witch. She could help.”

I chuckle humorously. My history with witches is an unpleasant one.

“She is a good one,” Yanuk says and looks at Izzy.

“We should at least try.” She pleads with her eyes.

Izzy has already forced a few physicians to inspect me, but none of them know what is wrong. These headaches are a pain in the ass, but they are not killing me yet. Izzy, on the other hand, is spreading herself thin by fighting a war and trying to help me.

Her massages used to help. Now, they only make a slight difference. Things are getting progressively worse. I am still alive, though. The main focus is on getting rid of my mother’s followers. Tiring of having to talk about my problem that won’t go away, I sigh.

“Fine,” I grunt. “As long as it doesn’t take too long. We still need to figure out how to get the fire fay to take our side. They don’t trust Sofia’s followers, but they don’t like us as well.” I try to keep my voice composed, even though talking hurts my brain.

“I agree, but there is no sign of the root anywhere,” Jorgan informs us, his expression hard, and starts to pace the room.

We will manage without their support, but it would be nice to know that if push comes to shove, the fire fay will take our side. My eyes land on Izzy’s. There is worry written on her face. She’s not a warrior, but she has help from capable people. There is not much else she can do.

“We will focus on preparing the army then,” she says and gets up, finalizing this meeting.

Jorgan and Yanuk leave first, and we follow as Izzy slides her fingers through mine, pulling me after herself. No doubt in a hurry to get to our room to massage my head, even though she knows it barely helps anymore. Maybe it offers her some sense of control in this chaos.

“Slow down, Izzy.” I tug her.

“It’s been a few days since we sent out the letters. We should be getting responses soon.” She swallows. “Maybe this witch will point us in the right direction.” She looks up at me.

“Izzy, it’s unpleasant and frustrating to know that eventually, this power could kill me, but I am still okay.” Bringing her into my arms, I place my chin on the top of her head.

“I understand,” she mumbles, her voice breaking, “but please take care of yourself.”

If I were in her shoes, I would worry just the same, but I hate how much pain this is causing her.

Yanuk was quick in sending the message for the witch he recommended. I squint my eyes as I watch him continuously glance at the wooden doors of the foyer. He seems nervous and anxious as we wait for the woman to arrive.

I feel a headache coming again with the soft throbs of pain at the front of my skull, and I have to refrain from growling in frustration. It doesn’t hurt yet, but I know that it is coming. Izzy notices my change of mood and looks up at me, hope in her eyes as she gives my hand a gentle squeeze.

The doors open, letting in a small woman with black curly hair. Her hands are clasped in front of her pink skirt as she timidly walks into the room. Yanuk quickly walks to her, almost running, and stops right in front of her, his behavior unsure and awkward. I would’ve laughed if I didn’t have bigger problems.

“Hi,” Yanuk whispers as he looks down at her so tenderly, I have to take a moment to understand what is happening. “How are you? How are you adjusting?” he asks, his eyes focused on her dark ones.

“I’m okay. No one has been bothering me after you stepped in,” she responds, her voice quiet as her cheeks turn pink.

“Good.” Yanuk swallows hard. He likes the girl, and a lot . It makes me want to smile at how delicately he talks to her. At the same time, it is amusing. “This is the man I told you about in the message.” He places his hand on her elbow and turns his head to us.

“Alright,” she says shyly and looks at me, her curls bouncing around her head.

“This is Anastasia.” Yanuk introduces her with pride in his voice, his blue eyes always on her.

“Just Anna,” she whispers, looking at me and Izzy from under her lashes.

“Good morning,” Izzy says to the girl, her voice chipper.

“Your Majesty.” Anna bows and plays with her fingers.

“No need for formalities. You are a friend of Yanuk’s, so a friend of ours as well,” Izzy says and smiles wide. Even though she has to play a heartless queen in front of her father’s council, Izzy remains the sweet woman I met at the market. “Yanuk says that you could help with Jacob’s headaches?” Izzy asks and looks up at me.

My chest pinches at the hope in her eyes. The chances of this working are slim.

“Well, I don’t know if I can make them go away, but I can tell you why they are happening, and there is a chance that I can find a way to make them stop,” she explains quickly and looks at Yanuk, as if for reassurance.

I have an idea of why they are happening, but I am curious what this small woman has to say.

Yanuk nods at her with atender look in his eyes and she looks at me. Without another word, her eyes go black. Heat travels from my chest to the base of my skull. With my brows raised, I look at Izzy and then back at Anna. The sensation is strange, but I let the girl do her job. It’s a long, silent minute before Anna quickly blinks and looks around the room. No one says a word, waiting for her to say something.

“Your power is eating you from the inside,” she states as a matter of fact. Staring at her, I wait for more. “The prominent ability in you is fire, so if you can find a fire fay perhaps? They could take some of it away,” she explains and then looks at Yanuk again.

Yanuk smiles at her, and her cheeks turn pink again. The tension between these two can be seen miles away.

“Do they keep that power?” I ask Anna, my interest suddenly peaked.

“They do,” she responds quickly.

Isn’t this an interesting turn of events? Maybe this pain-in-the-ass headache could benefit us. We can’t give them the root, but we can offer them the power of my fire as a gift of good faith. As long as we can make the arrangements to meet with them fast enough.

Maybe not all witches are terrible. This one is sweet and gave us some good news.

Izzy takes my hand in hers and looks up at me with a large beaming smile, her eyes shining. I exhale, a small weight falling off my shoulders.

The fire fay agreed to meet immediately. That means they want what we have to offer. We have a few more days before Sofia’s followers plan on attacking, so last night, Jorgan and I set out to meet the fay negotiator. With our speed, we made it to the border of Sarkup by the morning. If everything goes well, we should be back at the castle by nightfall, but I don’t know what this meeting will entail. Anna said that every power transfer is different. Some faint and don’t wake up for a few days. Others don’t even feel a thing.

The sun is rising, and the birds are waking up with happy songs echoing through the forest. I close my eyes and enjoy this peaceful moment, even though I’m exhausted. A lot has happened over the last couple of weeks. This serenity is welcome. Or maybe, this is the calm before the storm.

“What do you have to offer, halfling?” A voice comes from behind thick, green bushes.

A woman, maybe in her early thirties, comes around, a small, purple petal from the bush in her hand as her bright orange hair flows past her shoulders. She looks like a flame of fire, small and delicate yet dangerous.

“Power and peace, I hope,” I tell her, and her bright blue eyes snap at me, pinning me on my spot.

“What power can you give?” She narrows her eyes at me.

“Mine,” I tell her.

Her glare intensifies, then she moves her gaze to Jorgan, inspecting him from head to toe. Amused by her cautious behavior, Jorgan smirks teasingly. This is not the time to annoy someone who could potentially save my life, but I refrain from scolding a man who has at least a few hundred years on me.

“Fire?” the fay asks, reluctantly tearing her eyes from Jorgan.

“Yes.” I watch her observe me, as if inspecting every cell on my body.

“It’s burning you?” she asks and looks down at the flower in her hand.

“I believe so.” I watch her as she drops the purple bloom.

“We will accept the gift you are offering in return for an alliance, halfling. Be mindful that this power will grow again. In five years, the pain will come back. If you do not betray our trust, you have the option of coming back for healing.” Eyes on me, her red lips curve up lazily. “Do you understand?”

Every five years. It is a long time to be headache-free, but at the same time, it feels as if I am given no choice; if I don’t come back, then I suffer and possibly die.

“I understand,” I sigh. “How much will you take?” I ask the question burning in my mind. I have a war to fight; I need to remain strong.

“Just enough to take away the pain,” she answers casually. “Don’t worry, you will stay just as powerful.” She offers me a tight smile and sighs.

“Do you know anything about my lineage from my mother’s side?” It’s a reach, but it’s worth a try.

Squinting, she glares at me, a glint of mischief in her eyes.

“Prove your worth first.” Her tone is sharp.

Fairies.

“Fine. Let’s get this over with then,” I grumble.

Jorgan leans against a thick tree, making himself comfortable. This asshole. When it comes to Izzy, he is always on edge, searching for a threat. Right now though, he’s acting as if he’s without a care in the world.

“This is going to be unpleasant,” she mumbles to herself.

Great. It would’ve been too simple if this was painless.

Extending her hand, she faces her palm towards me. The green stone around her neck lights up and her eyes shut. A tingly, cold sensation crawls through my skin, cooling me. It feels strange, but it doesn’t hurt. Staring at her, I wait for the agony to start as she takes what she needs.

Another quiet moment passes, and a string of fire forms from my chest to hers. The flames travel into the stone, but her face contorts as she grunts. With labored breathing, she doubles over with a wince, her palm still pointing at me. Puzzled, I look down at her. Did it not work?

“A little more exhausting than I last remember it,” she huffs, straightening her body.

Swaying, she looses her balance and extends her arms to find something for support. Finding nothing, she falls. Sluggish with confusion, I watch her.

“Woah, there.” Jorgan sweeps in, lifting her in his arms before she hits the ground. Compared to him, she looks small and fragile. “Um, I’ll take her to the fire fay city, you go back to Isabella. She will need you,” Jorgan says and looks down at the sleeping fay in his arms.

With an inhale and a few blinks, my mind clears, and no headache persists. Relieved, I sigh. For a while, I thought I had no way out of this.

“I have a feeling she will be very upset that you carried her home.” I chuckle with a small curve of my lips.

The woman seems like the type to bite someone’s head off for doing something against her will.

“Nothing I can’t handle.” Jorgan laughs.

I sure hope he doesn’t think that she will be his sixth wife. The man has been married five times already. Each time, he loved them dearly, but the idiot kept falling in love with humans. They age, and he watched them die. I don’t understand how he remains so optimistic when it comes to love. If Izzy died, I don’t think I would be able to love again. I’m not sure how I would be able to keep living.