Page 25 of The Crown of the Last Fae Queen
“Oh.” She grimaced. Of course they had; just because they were bloodthirsty warriors didn’t mean they hadn’t had family, or someone waiting for them back home, or … hopes and dreams. Horror slowly seeped into her as she glanced at the soldiers. Were most of their families … dead? They must have been. Hundreds of years had passed since they were frozen in time.
“I left my mother and brothers behind,” Astrid said suddenly, quietly.
“I … I’m sorry.”
“They must have died waiting for me this whole time.” Her eyes welled with tears and she quickly blinked them away. “Or maybe the humans sacked the capital and killed them all anyway. I’ll never know.”
They were both silent after that. Kolfinna couldn’t look at her, so she stared at the back of the heads of the other fae and elves in front of her. She noticed the way they all had sharp ears—some sharper and longer than the others, some with piercings and metal clinging to the pointed tips—and she noticed the way their wings twitched and stretched, and how some didn’t have wings, and yet the slits along the back of their armor or leathers suggested their wings were only dematerialized at the moment. It was all so strange, being in the company of an ancient army; she wondered how jarring it was for them.
“Why fight?” Kolfinna murmured when they got to the front of the line. She glanced sharply at Astrid, who had just grabbed a wooden bowl.
“Excuse me?” Astrid lifted a white eyebrow, and a flash of anger rushed over her amethyst eyes.
“Why fight, when the empire you’re fighting for … doesn’t exist anymore? When the people you’re fighting for …”Are dead, she wanted to say, but found she couldn’t.
The fae in front of them ladled stew into a bowl and thrust it in Kolfinna’s direction, the contents spilling over the rim and dripping onto the forest floor. “The world is not so black and white, Princess,” he hissed, orange eyes glowing. “If we give up now, then all that we’ve done—all that we’ve sacrificed—will be in vain. Our race willdie.”
“That’s not true,” Kolfinna took the bowl from him, and he yanked his hand back quickly, as if her touch would corrupt him. “Our race has survived this long without you all.”
“Survived?” Astrid turned to her sharply. “You call huddling in forests, caves, and tiny cabins, hoping that no one finds you,surviving? Our race has been decimated because of the humans. Our people are existing in fear, every day, hiding, and hoping the humans never find them. That is not living, Kolfinna.”
She cringed at the harsh reality, the harshtruth.
“I’ve lived this life—” she started, voice wobbling.
“I cannot fault you for not knowing any better,” Astrid said, a hint of sympathy entering her hard voice. She tried to smile, but it came out forced, tightlipped. “But Kolfinna, how can a race like ours, who crave connection with all living creatures, thrive in an environment that wants to stifle it? We were not meant to be forced into caves and recluse mountains.”
The orange-eyed fae continued to glare and she could feel the surrounding fae start to stare too, so Kolfinna pulled the bowl of steaming stew closer to herself and nodded toward the clearing. “Maybe we should eat?” Her voice came out tight, and she tried to soften it, but her embarrassment wouldn’t let her. “We’re holding up the line.”
Thankfully, they moved away from the other fae and stopped by a set of benches someone had made with the roots and vines of nearby trees and plants. Astrid sat on one end while Kolfinna sat on the other, neither of them breaching the short distance between them. They ate in silence, and Kolfinna tried not toglance at the pretty fae. She clearly wasn’t in the mood for politeness or happy grins anymore.
Kolfinna suppressed the urge to apologize, to say,I’m sorry if I said something to offend you, or something along those lines. She had to remind herself that they were on opposite sides of the war and that they might have even fought each other during the battle a few days ago. She couldn’t allow this to change how she thought about them all.
“Princess.”
Kolfinna jerked her head up to find a fae male peering down at her with gleaming, sapphire eyes, so bright that they appeared unnatural. He gave a small nod to Astrid, then shifted his attention back to Kolfinna.
“Commander Alfaer wishes you to dine with him.”
She stared at him, then down at the reddish stew in her hand; she had been so focused on Astrid and her words that she’d barely tasted the beet and meat stew, nor paid any attention to the crusty bread floating on top of the oily broth. She was halfway done, and the prospect of eating in front of Vidar—of being near him—sent a shudder down her spine.
“I’m almost done anyway,” she said after a moment of silence. She schooled her expression to indifference. “Maybe next time.”
Astrid shifted in her seat, glancing at Kolfinna sideways. “I don’t think?—”
“It was not a request,” the man said with a pursed scowl.
Sighing, Kolfinna rose up to her feet, being sure to balance the bowl in her hand so the stew didn’t slosh onto the drying grass or her blood-stained dress. The blue-eyed fae waved her to follow him and wove through the crowds of dining fae and elves. He kept glancing backward at her, his eyes narrowed, as if she would sprint away at any moment. She didn’t blame him; she was half-tempted to do that anyway.
They continued through the camp until they reached a black tent that was larger than the others. The blue-eyed fae paused at the entrance and gestured her inside. “Commander Alfaer is inside.”
He didn’t need to tell her that, because she could feel it in the air. The denseness of the commander’s mana and the oppressive haze of shadows that seemed to flitter around the tent was enough for her to realize who was inside.
Kolfinna exhaled deeply, her palms growing clammy. She was all too aware of the fae watching her closely, his thin lips twisted into a scowl, so she pushed through the flap of the tent quickly, not wanting to be under his scrutiny any longer. She was greeted with a giant table set up in the middle of the room, and a small fire roaring in the background, the smoke curling and staining the roof of the tent. Vidar stood over the table, his red gaze flicking quickly over the map atop it as if he was memorizing every scratched groove on the parchment.
He wasn’t wearing his helmet, and his long hair streamed over his black scaled-armor like streaks of white light. The scar spanning over his face appeared less angry and more faded in the firelight. But the hardness of his jaw, the sternness of his mouth, and his intense eyes made him appear just as brutal as he had days ago, when she first saw him.
When she entered, he lifted those murder-glazed eyes at her. “Kolfinna,” he said, and she could feel the disgust in the air, the repulsion of even mentioning her name. He gestured to the seat across from him. His wings flared and then tucked in over his back. “Have a seat.”
