Page 125 of A War of Three Kings

Aldrin runs a hand across my shoulders as he takes a seat next to me, then leans forward over the table, a feral gleam in his eyes. “Prince Niall, how is your brother doing? He seemed quite…unstable the last time we met. Tell me, did he raise asword during the battle? Or did he loathe the idea of getting bloodstains on his pretty clothing?”

I send Aldrin a dark look, but he merely shrugs at me.

Prince Niall goes rigid, but he doesn’t speak until each person sits down. “It goes against my every instinct to be here, behind my brother’s back, advocating for something that isn’t in his best interests, but the situation has gotten too far out of hand.”

“I could have told you that after the first battle,” Caitlin spits. “You didn’t need to come here and ruin our party for that tidbit.”

“Tell us what you have come here to say. We will listen to you in full before we make any judgments.” My tone is hard, and my father raises an eyebrow at me, as though to say,Speak for yourself.

“Yes. I want to hear what the boy has to say.” Countess Lynna waves a hand in his direction, while Lord Bradford nods at her side.

Prince Niall draws in a long breath. “The king is not well. Half the time he doesn’t speak sense, and the other half his utter fabrications contradict each other, as though he cannot keep up with his own stories. My brother has lost his grip on reality. After his forces retreated from the North, he started visiting each noble’s estate to rally those who didn’t initially take up the call to arms.”

Lord Adalwolf curses, then gulps down the contents of his mug of cider, slamming it on the table. “Well, that answers that question, then.”

Niall collects his thoughts. Cold sweat rolls down my spine. My grandmother clacks her fingernails rapidly across the tabletop, looking like she wants to devour the prince whole.

“The king speaks of a great fae horde, tens of thousands strong, who have invaded these lands,” Prince Niall says. “Ofhow they torment and enslave the humans in the regions they occupy, dragging women back to their realm by force.”

“The only one attempting to drag a woman back by force is King Finan.” Countess Lynna snickers, sending me a wink.

Niall stabs a short finger against the table. “Don’t you understand? He has turned this into a war of survival against a foreign race. Against our oldest enemy. It is now a righteous crusade. It doesn’t matter that he tells each lord and countess a different story. Sometimes the fae army is made up of vicious goblins. Other times, they ride on the backs of thousands of dragons. He tells them the Lord Protector leads the army of fae, or that he has been killed by them. The kingdom is being united against you.”

I fist my hands in my lap. “What do his generals say to all this? Do they contradict him?”

“Surely, if they march on us, they will see that we are all human. That the fae are the smallest part of our army.” Lord Tomas looks from Niall to my father and back. “They will turn back, won’t they?”

Prince Niall taps a finger against his cheek. “I was there at the battle of Wenchwick Hold. All they will see are those dragons and fire sprites.” He rubs his temples before continuing. “Finan’s generals have lost their leash over him. They allow him to spread his rumors and falsehoods. When the war is over and the Southern lords realize this isn’t a fae invasion, the blame will land solely at my brother’s feet. Lord Desmond will still get the war he wants. Finan’s generals don’t stop him, but they also don’t speak a word in support during his mad ramblings.”

The prince falls silent, and it is as though the entire council holds its breath. I have a hundred questions, but I cannot articulate a single one as the gravity of his words slams home.

A deep scowl twists Aldrin’s features. Our eyes connect and hold for a long moment as he runs a soothing hand up and down my thigh. I can do this, with him at my side.

“Are we simply supposed to believe you?” Irritation ripples through my grandmother’s bony frame. “Tell me, why did my Mothers of Magic bring you here without notifying me first?”

Prince Niall’s lips press together in a thin line. “You are a hard woman to contact, High Priestess Naomi. Your Mothers of Magic in the capital have been helping me. They have proof of everything I have said. Letters from the Southern houses demanding that the Lord Protector execute the fae trespassers or they will declare war on House Appleshield. Transcripts of the discussions between the king, his generals and the noble houses, signed as accurate records by the lords themselves.”

“Why are you here, personally? Why not have the priestesses negotiate on your behalf?” my father snaps. The flames in the fireplace flare up with his agitation. “Are we still supposed to believe that you are trying to help us?”

The tendons in Prince Niall’s neck stick out.

“You suspect a military coup, don’t you?” I whisper, and all eyes fly to me. “You think Lord Desmond is going to make a bid for the throne?”

Prince Niall’s features crumple slightly, showing the first cracks in his mask of calm. “You are losing this war. The North may have won the last battle, but an infinitely larger force is coming your way in the next months. You will be crushed, and my family will be destroyed with you unless we change tactics. Lord Desmond and the other generals ignore Finan’s demands, and there are many secret meetings without him.”

He lets out a long, shaking breath.

“Lord Desmond will unite the entire kingdom under his righteous war. He will gain immense power under this guise, then he will take the throne for himself. Think of what life wouldbe like under his brutal iron fist.” Prince Niall tips his head at Caitlin. “There will be no female Lord Protector after Edmund.” His eyes slide to Lynna. “Any countess already in power would be forced to marry a man of his choosing and have her power and titles transferred to her husband.”

My heart sinks as the despair of his words drags me down into darkness.

Prince Niall doesn’t let up. “The wealth of any estate would be his for the taking, and he would lay false charges to execute its lord without a second thought. The commoners would be little better than slaves, thrust into poverty. If you thought the ways of my father and brother were backward, they were saints in comparison.”

“That…is a very bleak picture,” Lord Bradford mutters.

“Again, why areyouhere, Prince Niall?” my father rumbles. “I suspect you have a purpose other than to give us this grim news in person.”

“Is it to intimidate us?” Lord Bradford’s tone is ice cold. Many of the others around the table have glassy eyes and vacant stares.

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