Page 62 of A War of Three Kings

I am a ruin of shaky nerves as we sit and wait for servants to pour the wine, then I explain everything. Finan’s aggression when I called off the engagement. The army marching on us and when it should arrive. They both pale at the mention of Lord Desmond’s name.

It is when I bring up the fae alliance that charged electricity floods the group. Both Lynna and Bradford’s eyes fly to Aldrin and Silvan, truly looking at them for the first time. They were so unnerved by my news that they hardly dragged their eyes from me.

Lord Bradford takes a long drink of red wine, emptying his cup while sweat drips down his face. Countess Lynna stares at Aldrin and Silvan like she is trying to find something she lost.

“A fae alliance could revolutionize the pilgrimage.” My grandmother leans toward Lynna. “Our women could be sent into a safe environment on their pilgrimages. There would be no pressure to choose between worlds, or hunt for objects of magic, not when the fae will sell them to us. It could be a true pilgrimage of self-discovery instead, open to all. Pilgrims could go back to the fae realm if they pleased.”

The color drains from Lynna’s face and she speaks as though in a trance. “I fell pregnant to the magic with my daughter on my pilgrimage. I would like to go back, if I ever could. There is someone I would like to find, though it has been forty-five of his years.” Aldrin stiffens beside me, but she doesn’t notice. “I would be very interested in opening migration between the realms.”

“And that is what Aldrin and Silvan are here to negotiate for,” my grandmother says. “Open migration. Free trade between the realms.”

“Did you say free trade? With the fae?” Lord Bradford jolts out of his stupor and leans forward. Eagerness glitters in his eyes.

“Would you like an exclusive deal, Lord Bradford? We have a potent flower in my court that can be ground down to create a range of potions, if you are interested.” Aldrin pops a berry into his mouth and gives a wolfish grin as the other man’s eyes widen.

We spend the entire day building an argument for the countess and lord to join us in this war. Lynna has no hesitations, but Bradford swings between the sweet potential of trade and the fear of going against his king. In the end, both pledge their armies to their High Priestess and Lord Protector. To me.

We ride out the next morning, hard and fast toward Lord Adalwolf’s Windkeep Stronghold. We are less than an hour away from the fortified city when a band of fifty soldiers on warhorses encircle us on a back road surrounded by quiet farmland. My heart stutters as I anticipate an ambush.

Appleshield guards close in around me, and the sound of metal screeching against metal pierces the morning as they pull swords from scabbards. Aldrin and Silvan close in beside me and the very ground vibrates from the hum of their magic as they prepare to unleash it.

My father throws an arm up into the air. “Hold your positions,” he growls at his men. He gives Liam a dark look when the guard’s sword whooshes with blue fire dancing across the blade. “I said hold!”

The horsemen encircling us move in both directions, around and around in an intimidation tactic, so we can’t focus our eyes on them. Then a bear of a man with a completely bald scalperupts through their number, reining in his warhorse just before my father.

“Edmund, my old friend! Did you think you were going to fucking war without me, you sly bastard?” Lord Adalwolf roars, then turns back to yell at his soldiers to knock it off. “I’ve had scouts out looking for your party for days since I got a missive from my people in the capital.”

My heart doesn’t stop hammering, even when both men slide down from their horses and embrace.

Lord Adalwolf holds my father at arm’s length. “Tell me, are we going to gut this weakling king, or just give him a scare? I’m on board with either.” He turns and looks me straight in the eye. “My sister is a Mother of Magic, and no gods-damned man is going to take away her hard-won agency, king or no.”

They walk away, talking to each other in low voices, no doubt speaking of war.

Aldrin leans across the space between our mounts. “It seems like we have ourselves a war, dear heart.”

I turn wide, panicked eyes on him, but my words dry up.

This is what we wanted. The lords and countess of the North to join us to stand against the king. But now…now it feels all too real. There are no more obstacles between us and facing off with King Finan. I can only hope he will balk at the numbers we have amassed, just like Prince Niall believes he will.

When our band arrives at Fort Blackrock, which defends the pass into the South, our main Appleshield army already mans the walls, led by Gwyneth. I stare at it with foreboding curling within my stomach as rain starts to fall.

It is here that we will make our stand.

Chapter 16

Aldrin

Alate summer rain splatters down on us with heavy droplets. The downfall increases as our party approaches Fort Blackrock.

It is aptly named. The stony mountain range that seems to encircle the entire North comes to a choke point right here, and this fortress sits on top of it.I have seen it on a map, but the strategic placement is much more impressive in person. No wonder the North dares to defy its king with the resources of the rest of Strathia in his grasp.

A road wide enough to fit four carts side by side passes beneath the fortress, with the yawning mouth of an immense archway gaping over it. The gate is currently being lowered by cranks, cogs and pulleys, all positioned on the north side of the fortress, to keep the South out.

The gate is a massive wall of iron as broad as a man’s shoulders. Shouts and orders ring out. There is no doubt that the road would shatter and a small crater would be left in the ground if the gate were to fall shut without a guide. The mechanism looks like Winter Court technology to me.

As we slowly approach, I scan the rest of the fortress, built from stone blocks mined from the craggy mountains it’s nestledinto. Great blocky buildings, ramparts and towers dominate both sides of the pass and climb up the foot of the mountains. Battlements span above the gate, with archers’ stations and catapults.

This is meant to be the place of a last stand. The very edge of the protectorate lands that shield against us fae. Ironic, that they are the ones to have the greatest connection to us and the first to let us back in.

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