Page 61 of A War of Three Kings

“Hurry,” my grandmother’s wield snaps at us. “The fae will be better accepted if they arrive with the support of the Mothers of Magic.”

Without another word, I ride out from our band of warriors. Aldrin curses, but both he and Silvan follow, joining me at my grandmother’s side.

“I didn’t expect to see you here, Grandmother,” I say gently as the procession starts again.

“Yes. Well. I thought it would take much longer to get the Mothers of Magic to back a fae alliance. While there were many debates, it seems most are very enthusiastic about opening ourselves to the Otherworld again.” Her eyes slide to Aldrin. “It seems I made an error of judgment with my earlier treatment of you, fae.”

“An error of judgment?” Aldrin frowns at her. “Is that what you call imprisoning and torturing innocents?”

She leans in toward him with sparks of lightning dancing across her white hair, over her hands and in her eyes. “Understand one thing, fae. There is nothing I won’t do to protect my family. I would burn the entire world to the ground to make sure Keira never knows the pain I have endured in my lifetime. What is the torture of a few innocents compared to that?”

Aldrin grits his teeth. “Had you allowed me to make a blood oath of truth, you’d know I would do the same for her.”

Tiny, uncontrolled sparks shoot from my grandmother, and I’d worry she might set something on fire if the passageway into the fortress wasn’t constructed of pure stone.

“How do you think my grandfather would have felt about the way you treated Aldrin and his people?” I say. He always has been the only thing that calms her viciousness.

My grandmother straightens and the magic falls from her. “If he were alive today, he would be ashamed. Ronan was always my better half and kept my darkness buried deep. He was a good man, better than I ever deserved.”

She rides off until she is the clear head of the procession again.

Aldrin frowns after her. “That Nissien really did a number on her. I’m sick of constantly paying for his abuses.”

“Agreed,” Silvan grumbles on Aldrin’s other side.

I let out a long breath. “I’m sorry. This is probably the closest you’re going to get to an apology from her.”

Servants arrive to take our mounts and my family, Aldrin, Silvan, and a handful of senior priestesses are led to a winding flight of external stairs up a mountain face, past platforms of rooftop gardens, towers and turrets.

The servant stops at the top of the staircase. “The Countess Lynna would like you to join her for light refreshments.”

We step out onto a plateau broken straight off the side of the mountain, the roots of the pillar of stone lost in mist below. There is a marble pavilion in its center, surrounded by spans of empty moss-covered ground and ring railings at its edge for optimal viewing of the entire pass. All around us, waterfalls crash down rockfaces coated in green vegetation, their white noise a constant, soothing hum.

“I like this place,” Silvan says. “It reminds me of home.”

“I bet when the sun rises, it casts the entire fortress in gold light,” Aldrin muses. “It could almost look like our City of Vertical Gardens.”

There is such longing in their eyes. I would feel guilty for keeping them in my realm if it weren’t for the High Chancellor Titania and the damned Assassins of Belladonna preventing them from returning home.

A wide circular table has been arranged under the pavilion, cluttered with cakes on tiered platters, fresh fruits, wine and tea. The Countess Lynna sits there, head bent toward a man who has his hand on her upper thigh and laughs at something he says. It is well known that Lord Bradford is her occasional lover. As soon as they notice our approach, they both rise and stride toward my father.

“Lord Protector Edmund, it has been far too long since you have graced me with a visit.” Lynna takes my father’s hands andkisses both his cheeks. A woman in her late thirties who never succumbed to the pressure to marry, she is beautiful, with pale skin, high cheekbones and pitch-black hair pulled on top of her head in intricate coils.

Lord Bradford takes my father’s arm in his and shakes it. “A pleasure, as always.” He is a distinguished-looking man, with salt-and-pepper hair and a close-cropped beard. “Is the Lady Maeve here as well?”

“I wish this were a social visit,” my father says. “But we have dark tidings to discuss.”

I arrive at his side, and both the Countess Lynna and Lord Bradford give Caitlin and me a small bow.

“Is it true, then?” Lynna’s eyes slide to me. “We heard whispers that the king has gone mad. That he wanted Keira back by force.”

I raise my chin. “I have dedicated myself to the temple of the Mothers of Magic. King Finan has decided he will steal me from this most sacred duty and plans on marching an army into the North. It starts with him kidnapping a bride he has no right to, and ends with him taking whatever he wants from the North.”

Countess Lynna and Lord Bradford gape at me with their mouths open.

“He would dare take a Mother from our temple? I cannot accept such sacrilege. I will not!” A red flush covers Lynna’s face as she practically yells the words. “I too risked myself on my pilgrimage. Our sacrifice is not a thing any should take lightly.”

Lord Bradford takes her arm and leads her back a step. “I think we better sit down and discuss this over some wine, before your temper flares and you drown all the good people below. We don’t want to risk you losing your grip on your magic and flooding the waterfalls again.” He glances from me to my father. “If you would join us?”

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