Page 68 of Reign of Stars and Fire

“Calista, Stieg? Anyone?”

Cutler winced, and I knew. Frey, Stieg, even Calista had gone with them.

Breathe. Think. I was the only one here to speak for the isles, to speak for Ari. Never mind that the last time these people had seen me, I’d been marked a traitor and tethered to their ambassador for a hundred turns.

Surely they’d be reasonable and listen. A violent shudder sent my blood rushing to my head. Or they’d begin a new war.

Think, dammit.

They attacked because they’dbeenattacked. A misunderstanding, but Calista had been clear—our tangled fates would be dangerous should we all step foot on the isles as one. Davorin was in everything, eyes everywhere.

It’d only be a matter of time before he found a way to infiltrate the other kingdoms.

“Take me to them,” I said, desperate to keep my voice steady.

“It’s too dangerous, they—”

“Cuyler,” I snapped and faced him. “Take me to the king before a battle between friends kills us all.”

A vein in his forehead popped, but Cuyler gestured me toward the gates. He stripped his leather jerkin as we walked and talked. “They likely sent word to Bracken, and when he never responded . . .”

Cuyler handed me his jerkin, a silent way of insisting I pad with more armor. I didn’t argue and slid my arms in and fastened it over my chest.

“They did not come to greet Bracken,” I said. “They’ve not heard from Ari. He is why they’re here.” I silently cursed myself for not forging notes or missives under the guise of Ari. I lifted my chin. “I am his wife. I will speak with them, but off the isles. We must get them away from here.”

Cuyler gave a nod of agreement and shouted commands to the watchers to follow the queen.

At the entrance to the troll burrow, Gorm worked with Bjorn to arrange their warriors. The blood lord paused when he noticed me approaching.

“My Queen, it is unsafe for you to leave these gates.”

“It is unsafe for me to stay put. Lord Gorm, who do you see here that they might recognize enough to speak with, even a few words?”

He took in his people. Blood fae with red eyes, elongated teeth, some with wings, others with black lips or gray skin. Blood fae who’d stood against them in the Eastern war.

Warriors trailed behind us, swords, knives, and axes at the ready. My palms were slick with sweat when light from the outer gates spilled over the dirt and rocks underground.

I held my breath. One . . . two . . .

With a powerful exhale, I stepped into sunlight and was met with a blade.

So much for my hope of stealth. A warrior donned in fur and leather swung an iron blade at my throat. I blocked the strike. Gorm gripped the man’s wrist and locked him in his gaze. “Stay here. Do not move.”

A flicker of heat pulsed between them. The warrior halted, as though his feet had been tethered to the ground. The Blood Lord was like the young prince and had a dangerous ability to compel the actions and words of others. He could even read thoughts, but rarely did. Said it tempted too much power.

His glamour was useful now in getting us free of the tunnel, but it wouldn’t be enough. We were met with more blades. It was not an army in full, but more lives could be lost.

“Go,” Gorm told me. “They must pull back.”

I had to find the king. He had to listen, to retreat his people.

I sprinted through the trees, ready to shift if needed, but it wasn’t hard to find Valen Ferus.

He was near the front, breaking the ground beneath the blood fae watchers. His shoulder-length hair was braided on the sides and secured behind his head. One bloody axe was in his hand, another on his belt.

“King Valen!” I cried out. “Stop this! You must stop!”

The Northern king spun around. It took all of one breath of him studying me before his dark eyes narrowed, an expression on his face as though I’d crawled from a pit in the hells.