Page 149 of A War of Three Kings

“It’s a risky plan, with a difficult retreat if this Lord Tiernay and Countess Endeara betray us.” My heart stutters at the very thought. “You’re certain about leaving our low fae forces in the North? Dragons and fire sprites would make a siege far easier.”

Edmund gives me a long, hard look. “Don’t think I’m not tempted to burn the place to the ground to get my children back. I might have, if we weren’t receiving Keira’s letters through Murdoc to confirm she and Diarmuid are under no immediate threat. I don’t plan to lay a proper siege. Do your job right, Aldrin, and the people of Sunbright City will open the gates for us when King Niall arrives as their savior, ready to take his throne. We are playing the part of rescuers and must avoid being seen as invading fae if we want to win the throne with minimum bloodshed. Do it right, and these forces won’t lift a sword. They’ll march straight in.”

I grind my teeth with impatience. It is the perfect plan, but it has taken too fucking long to get all the wheels in motion. “If your plan doesn’t work, I’m flying in there on the back of a dragon.”

“If it doesn’t work, I’ll be right at your side.” The tendons poke out in Edmund’s neck as tension rolls through him.

King Niall and Lord Tiernay approach us. “Your daughter is an impressive woman, Lord Appleshield,” the lord says. “She has been holding a secret court of her own, right under the king’s nose when he thinks she is imprisoned in her apartments.It is a clever trick, for her to change her appearance in such a way. Keira has garnered a lot of support for King Niall with her efforts. Especially after the truth of what happened to the priestesses’ sanctuaries became known.”

A complex mixture of pride and devastation collides within me. My heart soars at how brave and clever Keira is, and it twists with agony that she has had to do it all alone, in such a precarious position.

I leave the lords, countess and king to talk. I power up the portals they need to transport their forces, then find my people.

Drake and Klara sit on a log together, sharpening their blades and talking in low voices. Cyprien and Silvan are engaged in some sort of argument that cuts off as soon as I approach, and Hawthorne tries to offer me a mug of hot coffee poured from the pot simmering on the fire. I wave it away, my stomach rolling at the thought of putting something in it, and Zinnia takes the steaming mug instead.

They all stop what they are doing and stare at me with varying degrees of concern. They have been doing this a lot since Keira was taken, and by the darkest realm, I wish they would stop.

“We move out as soon as the priestesses are ready.” I fold my arms over my chest as the urge to break something or someone overwhelms me again. “This wait is killing me.”

“It is painful for all of us. We all care, Aldrin.” Cyprien takes a step toward me, a frown of concern pinching his features, as the others grunt in agreement.

I don’t know if he intends to hug me or pat my back, but I can’t handle softness right now. I think I would fold up and collapse in a heap of tears, and that man couldn’t save anyone. Turning on my heel, I move away from him and drop into a seat beside Drake at the fire.

“She’s going to be okay,” Drake murmurs to me, and I roll my eyes to him, fixing him with a dark look. “I know what it’s like to have someone precious to you in the enemy’s clutches, and to be forced to fully trust in their ability to take care of themselves. Keira is incredibly resourceful. Shewillbe okay.”

I take in a deep, shuddering breath, not allowing the riptide of emotions that churns through me to show on my face. He is speaking of his son, Rainier, who is in the High Chancellor’s inner circle.

We sit there and idly watch as the long columns of Northern armies are slowly swallowed up by portals, their number snaking around the sanctuary and into the fields beyond. Every so often, a portal’s glow will fade and the vibration of the air around it lessens, and we fae pull ourselves away from the campfire to pour our magic into it.

This is no feat a human could achieve.

It is the single reason I am still in this miserable graveyard and not in Sunbright City, fighting for my woman already.

When the last of the armies has disappeared through the portals and the sun sits heavy on the horizon, I pace the sanctuary with agitation. The priestesses we will escort into Sunbright City to wreak havoc are ready. My people are ready. There are only two women holding the rest of us back.Every heartbeat I am forced to wait is agonizing.

I keep throwing moody glances at the portal, but that moonstone ring remains dark. I want to light it up, stalk through and drag them out forcefully, but I have already been told that would be rude.

“Why are they not here yet?” I growl at Cyprien.

He gives me a stern look. “Give them time.”

“We are losing precious time! We must go now.” I can’t help the aggression in my voice or the way every muscle in my body is tight and ready for violence.

“Sheneeds this as much as you do.” Cyprien puts a hand on my shoulder, and I shrug it off. “Both need it, if we are being honest.”

He looks strange with glamour hiding his fae form. His long black braids with their many golden beads have been masked into straight, free-flowing hair. The shaved sides of his scalp, usually covered in black tattoos, are fully regrown in the human style. His ears are rounded and his sharp features dulled.

Any fae could see through the weaves to know Cyprien’s appearance has been changed, but humans don’t have enough magic to see it. Very few are masters at glamour deception in my realm, unlike the fae who have grown up in the human world and trained in the skill from infancy. Edmund, Keira and Caitlin are such natural experts at hiding their true fae forms with instinctual glamour that not even I saw it.

They would make excellent spies.

Klara is no longer recognizable, her purple hair and eyes now the most boring shade of brown. Drake’s tattoo is gone, along with the red tone of his skin. I touch one of my own rounded ears with discomfort. It feels too real.

That familiar hum fills my ears, vibrating air particles around me. I whirl around to the portal that leads to the Appleshield sanctuary right as Caitlin and Naomi step out of it. Relief punches into me, so strong that all the breath leaves my lungs.

There is a self-satisfied grin on Caitlin’s face as she walks to us. The loose white robes of a Mother of Magic flow around her body, the fabric clinging to the curve of her stomach where the baby was, still visible but much diminished.

The priestesses laugh and cheer and clap. A few race to Caitlin and embrace her in a tight huddle, despite how her body locks up and a scowl fills her face as she looks at them with confusion, then pats their backs.

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