Page 119 of Song of the Heart Scale
“I’m here because it’s time. Four days from now, we march on Dragon Valley. I need your people.”
Klaus slowly stepped forward, his shoes silent on the soil. “So she told you everything.”
“She did. And that you agreed to help.”
“I take it Garrick confirmed the truth of the shield?” Klaus asked, straightening up. “Not made of iron, but magic?”
“You were there,” I reminded him. “You saw him test it. You know as well as I do that it’s old magic. Warlock-forged. Fragile. You could break through them with a hard wind and a little pressure.”
His grin returned, sly and slow. “Yes, well, forgive me if I wanted to hear it from your lips. Makes it feel... official.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re insufferable.”
Klaus gave a contented hum and glanced back toward the trees as if considering the weight of centuries. “Do you know how long we’ve waited to be free? How long I’ve wandered this forest with the bones of kings beneath my feet while the rest of the world forgot our names?”
“Then take your chance. Come with us. Fight.”
He turned his gaze back to me. “And what happens after? If Thorne falls. If you win. What do I get in return for leading my people into war?”
I unflinchingly met his stare. “You get freedom. A seat at the table. Recognition.”
His eyes sharpened. “Freedom isn’t given, Prince. It’s taken.”
“Then take it,” I said brusquely. “You said it yourself. You’ve waited centuries and now here it is, your moment. You either rot in these woods or you rise.”
Klaus tilted his head, studying me. “She believes in you.”
“I know.”
“She burns for you, did you know that? Her aura practically singes the wind when she says your name.”
“Then help me save her.”
That finally broke the tension.
His smile faded. His lavender eyes lost their gleam. “Thorne has her?”
I nodded. “Took her from the marketplace during a riot this morning. She’s in the dungeons, probably being tortured as we speak.”
For a moment, Klaus said nothing. Then he turned and whistled—a high, shrill sound that cut through the stillness.
From the trees, figures emerged. Fae. Dozens, then hundreds of them. Pale and tall, their eyes glowing faintly with hidden magic. I felt the hair on my arms rise.
“We’re ready,” Klaus said quietly. “Tell Garrick to break the wards. We’ll come like a storm.”
I stared at him. “Just like that?”
“No,” he said, his enigmatic smile returning. “Not just like that. But I’ve made up my mind, and I think it’s time the world remembers what fae fire feels like.” He stepped closer, close enough that I could smell the faint trace of lavender and moonlight on his skin. “Do you believe in fate, Shadow Prince?”
“Not particularly.”
“Pity. Because the threads are tightening. I can feel it. If you’d asked me a decade ago if I’d fight in a war on behalf of a dragon prince and his mortal mate, I would’ve laughed until my ribs ached.”
I stepped closer. “But you’re not laughing now.”
“No,” he said, his uncanny expression solemn. “I’m not.” He looked up at the sky and sighed. “You better not get Kitten killed, Shadow Prince. Or I will rip the stars down from the sky and bury you beneath them.”
“Fair enough,” I said.
