Page 142 of A Sword of Ice
“And their camps?”
Shula blinked. “I’m confused, I thought you knew about the camps.”
“I know about the camps where they keep the Fae. I don’t, however, know where the soldiers keep court.”
Understanding dawned in Shula’s eyes, along with a bit of wariness, but she still leaned over the map and pointed. “A couple of miles away from Seirz, where the King of Tuath holds court in his castle, there’s a military camp.”
“Keeps his soldiers close to protect him, huh?” Iona mused. Then she was folding the map back up. “Can I borrow this?” But she was already pocketing it, even as Shula was nodding, her head tilted a fraction to the side.
“What are you thinking?” Her arms crossed against her chest.
Iona didn’t know what to tell her. She didn’t want to be dishonest with her companions ever again, much less with someone she was considering a friend. But she didn’t want to talk about her plan just yet, if only because it was still in the beginning stages, and she wanted to go over the finer details of it first and get her mate’s input.
Still, she answered as honestly as possible. “I’m thinking it’s time we start to even the score.”
Before Shula could ask anything else that Iona wasn’t ready to answer just yet, she waved her off with a promise that she would tell her later and walked over to Julius, who was starting a fire. He turned to look at her as she approached and must have read something on her expression that she hadn’t even been aware was there at all.
He dusted his hands off as a fire sparked to life and stood with a lopsided grin twisting his mouth. “What crazy idea have you come up with now, mate?”
The tightness in her chest eased a fraction when she was near him. “What makes you think I have a crazy idea?”
He swiped his thumb against the tip of her nose in a sweet gesture. “I know that look, and I knowyou. Something’s on your mind.” His arms crossed against his chest. She tried not to be distracted by the bulge of his muscles flexing. “And I want to know what.”
* * *
Prince Valerio—orKing Regent Valerio, as it were—leaned against a tree when Iona stepped into the woods to speak with him.
He had expected nothing less, though he had predicted that Uric would have been the one to come find him instead of the ice Fae. An ache pressurized his chest because Uric had not come to him, but as quickly as it formed, he pushed it away.
Just like he had pushed Uric away hours earlier.
If he was alone, really, he only had himself to blame. He could not even be cross with his friend for giving him the space he had desired.
He used the brief time alone to pick through his thoughts and compartmentalize them into boxes he did not want to open or look through. The loss of his people and death of his father were first and foremost. But as much as he wanted to avoid the heartache those brought, he forced himself to think of them.
He was king regent now, so decisions fell on his own shoulders. After so long of dreaming of his coronation, of taking over for his cruel bastard of a father, he could not seem to fit into that metaphorical crown now. It was a strange sensation, to realize that you could never fill the spaces of the one who came before you.
It felt like he was being chipped apart from the inside. Like his soul was given solid form and was being chopped away in thin layers, and there was no substance strong enough to put those pieces back together again. Somehow, he had to.
There were Fae relying on him now in the absence of his father, but he had not the minimal idea what he would do. He felt hopeless, like he was drowning and there was no air.
Not until Iona stepped in front of his line of vision, bringing with her what felt like a soft breeze of cold that slapped against his senses and pulled him out of the sweet darkness he had been trapped in.
She pushed away the darkness with her sharp scent of apples and ice and mint. Then Shula appeared and he startled, straightening as he took her in, her scent of confections and embers warming him.
These two females, they woke him up. Shula especially. He regretted the thought as soon as it formed. He thought of Uric, the feelings he harbored like a carefully guarded secret that was not a secret at all.
For a single moment, he had been able to relate to Uric. In that single instance when Davina had convinced him that his mate waited for him, he had felt that surge of happiness, a surge of love for someone he had not yet met. It all came crashing down when he had come face to face with the fiery Fae, only to realize she belonged to another.
It was why he tried so hard to push her away. To separate her from the delusions he had let himself fall under when they had gone to save her. Because when he looked at her, he was reminded of what he did not have and everything he had ever desired.
He did not want the desire for a mate to turn into desire for the wrong female.
His eyes narrowed on her presence, and he despised the way she tensed near him. Like he was someone she had to be wary around.
“King Valerio,” Iona began, and Valerio tried not to visibly flinch at the words that hurt more than his father’s cruelty or magic ever could. “I have an idea…”
They could not have given him more time to come to terms with the fact that he was supposed to lead them? All his life, he had taken orders. Sure, he had commanded servants and his own small group, but his father had never allowed him to be privy to his plans of war.
