Page 47 of A War of Three Kings

Lord Tomas jumps in the most satisfying way as more huge spikes erupt from the calm water until an entire woody blockade spans the river.

The lord’s face has gone entirely pale. “What else can you do?”

I give him a predatory grin as I feed air into the water, forming vicious whirlpools. Their centers reach down to the river’s muddy floor. Silvan shoots shards of ice out of the water’s surface, as thick and deadly as a spray of daggers. The icicles pepper the far shore. His mother was born in the Winter Court before taking refuge in mine during the wars. The Winter King Erik could freeze this entire river for miles.

We drop our weaves simultaneously and the water’s surface calms. The lord’s mouth works, but no sound comes out as his gaze darts from me to Silvan to Edmund.

“Keira, Caitlin, can you show Lord Tomas what you can do with those wooden spikes?” Edmund asks.

Keira grins and Caitlin’s eyes sparkle. They clutch each other’s arms, using the physical touch to combine their magic. One thick tree root shatters into hundreds of arm-length spikes. Their air wields thrust the missiles through the air with impressive speed to strike the shoreline, embedding erect stakes at least a few inches into the soil. Had there been an invading army on that bank, many would be dead under that onslaught.

Keira pants, her hands on her knees. Our powers could be unstoppable if they were combined.

Lord Tomas whips around and stares at the sisters. “You?” He almost screeches the word.

“Us,” Keira replies. “Aldrin has been teaching me to use my magic. There is so much we either don’t know or that we block from fear of our own power.”

“He and his fae have been an asset to us,” Caitlin chimes in.

As we trudge back up the slope to the keep, Edmund puts his arm around my shoulders and pulls me to his side. The act is so warm and intimate I almost die of shock. Until he growls in my ear, “Do not doanythingduring the festivities that could feed the rumors that fae have kidnapped or laid claim to Keira.” Edmund smiles and nods at the humans we pass, then his tone turns acid again. “Do not touch her, dance with her or speak to her too much. Understand me, Aldrin—if you even look at her the wrong way, it will inflame the lords, and weneedthem.”

I shrug Edmund off me. “Anything else? Shall I dance for the entertainment of the lords? Perhaps kiss their feet? Because offering my sword and neck is clearly not enough for you.”

I stalk off, and he is forced to jog to catch up with me.

“I apologize in advance, Aldrin. Nothing here is more important than my daughter’s safety.Nothing. Not even your bruised ego.” Edmund gives me a hard look. “And if it is not smarting already, then it will be, because many of the lords and countesses we need to recruit will only look upon you with fear and prejudice.”

“So, the usual treatment, then?” I snap. I am so sick of these people already.

“Social change is slow. I’m apparently one of you, and still, I can’t stand to look at you,” Edmund says. “Thoughthatis for personal reasons. I don’t mind this guy.” He tips his head at Silvan.

“Fuck off,” Silvan growls at the Lord Protector.

“See? Friends already.” Edmund slaps him on the shoulder and walks off.

“Can I kill him yet?” Silvan grumbles beside me.

“Maybe after the war,” I concede, but I can’t stop staring at Edmund’s retreating form. Under all the malice, he is a father terrified for his daughter. A vicious beast snapping at any and every perceived threat to her.

I get it. I would destroy any man I thought was trying to harm her. It doesn’t mean I have to hate him any less.

Gods, I can’t even offer Keira a life of safety in my realm to escape this war. The Assassins of Belladonna will greet me the moment I step through a portal. They will not stop trying to kill me, not unless I put a conflicting commission against the High Chancellor and they kill her first. But I have other plans for the assassins on my return. Ones that will have them working for me.

Thoughts of Titania’s reign of terror keep me up at night. Conditions were so much worse in my court when we briefly visited. All the fake heroics she promoted during the election—how only she could save our people from my failures and give them a better way of life—have fallen by the wayside, and the true brutality of her nature has been exposed.

Under her neglect of the lands, the corruption that is killing my realm is only growing and festering.

We wash the dust of the road from ourselves and change quickly. Silvan accompanies me silently as we explore the fortress grounds. I attempt to talk with the soldiers in the guardhouse, but their reactions vary from fearful silence to outright hostility.

The fact that we are followed by both Edmund’s and Tomas’ people is not lost on me.Neither trust us. If I thought I could win these people over with the sheer weight of my personality, I would have received a rude shock.

By the time I enter the banquet with Silvan in tow, I am in a foul mood and cannot help the brooding darkness of my expression. A servant leads us into a hall with rough flagstone floors and walls of uneven masonry, as though this is some backwater inn and not a lord’s dwelling.

I glance up at the ceiling adorned with broad beams of wood and rows of wrought iron chandeliers and sneer at the lack of fire orbs. How do these people not get burned by dripping wax from all those candles hanging overhead?

Many lit sconces lining the walls give a warm light to the space, but also lend a smoky, gritty quality to the air. I taste the bitterness of it on my tongue. The entire hall is crude and primitive, with no care for beauty.

Simple wooden tables and benches fill the room, packed with guests and soldiers. They all fall silent as the atmosphere shifts and their attention focuses on us standing in the entrance. Then they break out into hushed whispers, many pointing in our direction. I grind my teeth.

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