Page 12 of The Crown of the Last Fae Queen (The Heartless and the Wicked #4)

“Get to the point, Hilda. Why did you ask us to come here? Is it to keep beating around the bush, never getting to your point? If you don’t have anything new to add, then I’m going to gather as many men as I can and break into that fortress myself.

” And he meant it. If there was no plan to rescue Kolfinna or figure out the fae army’s weakness, then there was no reason for him to waste his time here.

It had already been a week since the battle and he had waited, impatiently, for news—for a plan to be formed—and all that amounted to was nothing .

“I see patience isn’t your virtue,” she said snidely, before gesturing to one of her men. The man leaned forward and murmured something in her ear, and she bobbed her head. He then nodded and left. Hilda folded her hands over the table once more and pinned a delicate smile on her face.

Blár tapped his finger on the table, the sound forming a consistent staccato in the tense room.

The air was tense and electrifying surrounding Haakon, Ivar had ceased sharpening his dagger and was instead shifting it in the firelight to better see the edge, and everyone else shifted on their feet.

Blár stared at Hilda, trying to gauge what she was feeling and what she was hiding.

She must have known something, he decided, judging by that pompous smirk on her face.

Right when Blár’s patience was running thin, the flaps to the tent burst open and Hilda’s man returned, yanking on a chain as he did.

Almost immediately, the stench of piss, shit, and sweat infiltrated the room.

A man limped forward, his head hanging long and his long, stringy black hair curtaining his face.

His clothes were torn and bloodied and every inch of his skin was bruised, cut, and caked with dried blood or mud.

Hilda’s man kicked the prisoner forward and he collapsed on the floor.

Blár’s teeth ground together at the sight; the man had clearly been tortured and he was reminded of when Kolfinna had been whisked away by Hilda, and how she had undergone similar treatment.

The thought sent razored talons over his spine, chilling the room further.

Was this man innocent like Kolfinna had been, or was he truly deserving of it?

“Who is this?” Ivar asked, crinkling his nose. “A fae?”

“No.” Hilda didn’t look at the man. She was instead staring straight at Blár. “You’ve worked with this man before.”

Blár glanced over at the man. He didn’t recognize him. “I’ve worked with hundreds of thousands of new faces. Who is he?”

Being a black rank, he oftentimes didn’t have time to get to know every single person he went on missions with. Usually, there were dozens of people involved in whatever he was tasked to do, and most of the time he couldn’t chat with every single one. Not that he wanted to, either.

It was something Hilda should have realized.

The man lifted his head slowly, his long hair creating a veil over his face.

One of his eyes was swollen shut and purple, and the other was barely cracked open through yellow bruising.

There was something familiar about him, though.

His broken nose poked out from his curtain of hair, and Blár found it hard to keep staring at him.

“Even if I did know him, you’ve rendered him completely unrecognizable,” he finally said after an uncomfortable pause. “Who is he and why’d you bring him here?”

Hilda chuckled and the sound grated on Blár’s ears.

He hated that she acted so high and mighty; if he could fight her without repercussions, he definitely would have.

He had to remind himself that they needed to work together to face the fae army.

It was the only thing holding him back from freezing that grin on her face.

“Mímir. You worked together at the Eventyrslot ruins. After you apprehended him for siding with the fae, he was taken from the Royal Guards’ custody and placed into ours shortly thereafter.”

Blár turned back to the tortured man. He still didn’t recognize him, even though he believed Hilda. He was too battered. “What did you find?” he asked slowly.

“Come on, talk .” Hilda snapped her fingers and Mímir flinched.

“W-We—” he croaked.

“Faster.”

Mímir swallowed, his throat bobbing. “One of our missions has been looking for the heir who can free our fae queen,” he said, his body trembling as one of the men took a step near him.

“Since the ancient fae army has awoken, this signals to me that the heir has awoken, because only he … or she … can wake them. And...” He licked his dry, cracked, and bleeding lips.

“And … the fae queen is still not awake.”

Blár had learned about this before, in the caves when he, Kolfinna, Eyfura, Magni, Yrsa and Nollar had investigated the strange monster occurrences near the western border. It wasn’t anything new, but the bit about the army awakening was alarming.

“You’re telling me that the army we faced …” Gunnar said slowly, glancing over at his brother Eluf, who had remained silent for the better part of this conversation, “… is the same army that King Harald faced all those centuries ago? The army of the evil queen?”

Nobody answered. The silence was practically deafening.

Haakon shifted on his seat, staring between Gunnar and Mímir. He appeared lost; it was probably hard for him to read Mímir’s lips, considering that his hair covered his face so well, and he mumbled in fear when he spoke.

The man holding the chain kicked Mímir, flinging him forward onto the dirt floor.

He grunted in pain, and pushed himself up on trembling, emaciated arms. “Y-yes. We have researched about Queen Aesileif’s army before.

Her half-elf commander leads an army of fae, elves, and drekis.

They are powerful, winged, have healing properties, and they …

are mostly unstoppable. It was not Queen Aesileif who King Harald was terrified of, but her vengeful commander, who would kill and burn any who stood in the way of his queen. ”

And that monster, that half-elf, had Kolfinna in his clutches.

It was more reason for Blár to push out of this tent and head for the fortress himself, but he kept himself still. He tried, very hard, not to do anything rash.

Clenching his fists together, he asked through gritted teeth, “And? You’re telling me that the child of those two monsters is out there causing mayhem? And that he, or she, will free the queen soon?”

“Yes.”

“So we need to find this heir and kill him?” Ivar asked. “How will we know who he is?”

Eluf rubbed his stubbled chin, his dark-circled eyes flicking to everyone in the room. “And you, Hilda, proposed that we should kill every fae in order to kill this heir, correct?”

“Yes,” she answered proudly, her chest puffed out as she spoke. So confident. So arrogant. It made Blár’s blood boil.

“I believe—” Mímir raised his head, his greasy hair falling to the sides of his face as he glanced from person to person before landing on Blár. His eyes held a crazed gleam as he spoke the next words. “I believe Kolfinna is the heir.”

“No,” Blár gritted out through clenched teeth.

He could feel everyone turn to him, but he didn’t care about the fury coursing through his veins, or how the temperature was near freezing.

He curled his fists together. Kolfinna would have told him if she was the heir.

They were close enough to share that sort of thing. There was no way she didn’t tell him.

“I think she is,” Mímir repeated.

“ No .”

“Believe it or not, Blár, but I think he is correct,” Hilda said, a cruel grin stretching over her leathered face. “If she is the heir, we have a lot to talk to her about, don’t you think?”

Blár’s lips pursed. Kolfinna wasn’t the heir. She hadn’t lied to him this entire time. There was no way. “If you try anything—” he snarled.

“Don’t threaten me, child,” Hilda said, rising up to her feet.

“We will do everything within our power to capture the heir and kill her, if necessary. After all, it’s the fastest and most assured way the queen is defeated and never rises.

Our goal is to save our country, not allow these fae scum to override it.

Don’t forget your place in all of this, Blár. ”

“ Kill Kolfinna?” He clambered up to his feet swiftly, ice already forming on his fingertips as he glared at Hilda. All the people surrounding him pulled away immediately, the air crystallizing around him in seconds. “You’ll have to go through me before you try anything like that.”

They stared at each other, both sides remaining tense. Finally, Hilda smiled again, this time tightlipped.

“Do not forget that we are working together, Blár Vilulf.” She turned her smile to Ivar, Eluf, and Gunnar. “We will see you all shortly after it’s been decided what Commander Bernsten wants from us in this war. Good evening.”

With that, she strode out of the room with her entourage of soldiers and Mímir. When they were all gone, the only people left were Gunnar, Ivar, Eluf, and Haakon—the last of whom seemed a tad bit confused about the whole thing.

“Do you think—” Gunnar started.

“No,” Blár snapped, exhaling loudly. The tent was so cold now that their breaths formed white clouds whenever they breathed. His hands fisted and he slowly released his hold on his magic, taking the worst of the chill with him.

A frown twisted Gunnar’s lips. “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

“I know.” He shifted his attention to his best friend since childhood. They’d known each other long enough for him to understand the uneasy question in the air. He slowly turned to the others. He could read it on all their faces. The doubt.

He slammed his fist on the table, a string of curses escaping from him.

There was absolutely no way Kolfinna was the heir. Blár was certain of it.