Page 86 of A Sword of Ice
Valerio closed his eyes and tried to find patience within himself. “My decisions are my own to make.”
“She manipulated you!” His voice rose above a whisper, and Valerio riddled his friend with a glare.
“Am I or am I not your prince?” he asked in a haughty tone. He hated asking that as much as he hated feeling incompetent. He hated using his own noble blood to his advantage, to make others feel lesser.
Uric seemed surprised, blinking rapidly. His whole body tensed and the angry, vulnerable expression faded to hard lines. “You are.” His jaw clenched.
“I am in charge here. You are nothing but my guard and my right hand. Anything else comes secondary. You are not my brother. You are not my father. And you are not my mate. You cannot presume to govern over me.”
He knew he was hurting his friend with those words as much as he was hurting himself.
The truth was that nobody but Uric understood him. Nobody would stand beside him but him. And he feared if Uric thought he was making a mistake, if he was cruel about the decisions Valerio had to make, then he was truly everything his father had ever made him out to be.
“Noted,” Uric replied, his voice colder than the night air around them.
Valerio wanted to grip his friend’s arm and apologize, to explain why he felt the need to do this. Because Iona was right. No Fae would follow them if he did not have the bravery to stand up for them in this. Because he did not think he could live with himself if he passed by and pretended like they didn’t exist. Because they did. And they needed their king—their prince—to help them.
He may not have been the prince his father wanted him to be, but he was a royal just the same. And he could have compassion, fear, veneration, and adulation in equal measure if he wanted to.
How could he explain to Uric that he was doing this out of selfish reasons? For his own peace of mind, his own sense of duty to the Fae he was trying so desperately to protect?
He knew his father would not approve, but his father never approved of anything Valerio did regardless of the circumstances.
Valerio couldn’t handle it if Uric disapproved, too.
But before he could explain any of that, Uric was already turning and walking away. And there was something about his gait that screamed with finality.
Valerio tried not to feel like he’d just made the biggest mistake.
38
Ashes and Bone
The camp was miles away from the city. Iona guessed it was to keep the Esses taint away from the good citizens of Verdt. Maybe, as much as they professed to hate the Fae, even they couldn’t stomach the screams of the dying and tortured.
Her teeth clenched in angry anticipation. Her body felt lethargic and she tried to fight off the effects of the iron building they were near.
The camp was exactly that. Iron wrought walls surrounded a smoking, iron building that spit ash from tall chimneys. Barbed wire circled the top threateningly, but when Iona squinted, she noticed they were ashwood thorns, crawling over like spectral fingers ready to reach for anyone who tried to climb to the other side for freedom.
Human guards wearing the colors of the Emperor of Illyk—red, black, and gold leathers with metal helms that hid their features—guarded the top walls. Swords gleamed at their hips, hitting against their thighs as they walked along from one place to another. They didn’t appear alert; they looked lazy, bored.
There was something eerie about the silence in the air with nothing but the soft puffs perfuming through ever-thickening gray skies. No sound came from within those iron gates, like nothing but ghosts lived within those large walls. Iona knew better.
The close proximity to both iron and ashwood had her holding her breath, fingers tapping against her thighs. She tried to keep her mind focused on what they were there for, on the sights around them instead of letting herself get dragged back to the past. She couldn’t go there, to the old war when there was a new one to be fought today.
She didn’t have a plan. At least, not much of one. This was one of the smaller iron camps that spread throughout the empire of Illyk. There were so many more than this, this was almost as unimpressive as a chapel. Yet there were Fae in there.
She planned on getting them out.
The idea came to her. Something quick and straightforward. She counted the guards manning along the walls. She could scale them easily enough. If her magic didn’t fail her, that is. It always debilitated her magic, but if Shula had melted iron in circumstances of extreme distress, then Iona could use her own Elemental magic for this.
They were only supposed to observe the camp, which was what they were doing in the shadows.
“There is nothing here,” Uric growled, his whispering voice slicing through the silence.
Iona wanted to shush him, but she was focused, determined,anxious.Her whole body was overflowing with tension. This was the closest she’d ever been to the truth since she’d landed on the shores of Teg.
Behind her, Valerio sighed. “I cannot hear anything.”
