Page 99 of A Sword of Ice
The ice Elemental—Iona, he amended, mentally berating himself for thinking of her like his father would—was staring at him almost worriedly. Perhaps she had good cause to, with the way he was speaking.
“I have helped Fae find our safe houses all throughout Illyk, but I have yet to actually save them. What is my worth, if not to help those in need? What legacy will I leave behind if not to save my race?” He turned to her fully, cocking his head to the side. “You were right to question me. How can I expect them to help me if I do not help them in return? I cannot rely solely on the Elementals because even though I have you and Shula, I do not know if the others will join or if we will even find them before the human emperor does. We need a backup plan in case we go to war.”
“I agree,” Iona nodded firmly. “But—and no offense, my prince—why are you telling me this?”
He smiled, though he knew it didn’t reach his eyes. It had been so long since he last truly felt joy. Years, decades almost. His emotions had withered and died like the remnants of a once great past, and death clung to him with a permanence that reeked too sweet.
“Because you gave me an idea.”
At that moment, the air beside Valerio shimmered. A portal opened that Uric and Weylyn both stepped through. It closed once again and Valerio flicked his fingers in their direction, commanding, imperious.
Uric shouldered past Weylyn and handed him a stack of parchment that he took from his withered hands and rummaged through. His eyes scanned over the contents quickly until he found the one he needed and pulled it out to shove it in Iona’s direction.
She grabbed it and looked it over, her own eyes widening in realization.
“Is this—?”
“I made Uric and Weylyn go back.” Though they’d found nothing within those foul walls, with death and ash at their feet, he’d had a feeling. An instinct.
Like Mana was speaking to him.
It was something he couldn’t ignore.
“So it’s true…” Her hand trembled as she lowered the page.
Valerio couldn’t help but smile. “You were right, Iona. The Fae… they’re alive.”
She made a choking noise. “Will we—”
“Numbers win wars,” Valerio said. “It is numbers we need. If the emperor has them, then I plan on getting them back andkeepingthem this time.” He knew his eyes were sparking with the deeply rooted magic, begging to get out. Like everything else, he kept it tightly leashed so they could not see the true feral madness he kept within. “I will not let the emperor take anymore from us.”
“The Fae will be broken,” Iona whispered.
“I know.”
“They would have suffered.”
“I know.”
“They will need time to heal.”
“Then we will heal them,” Valerio said. “We will train them. And when they are able, we will take back what is ours.”
43
A Thirst for Death
“No.” Shula’s voice cut across the space between them as sharp as a dagger. Her lips were pressed into an angry, thin line, her eyes sparking with the beginnings of her flames as she stared down the Seelie Prince. “Not again.”
Valerio’s arms were crossed tightly against his chest, his whole stance obviously unimpressed with Shula’s obstinacy.
The Fae were separated in two lines standing across from one another. Shula, Ryker, Clay, and Uric against Valerio, Iona, Julius, and Weylyn. As if they’d already divided themselves in different directions of warring sides.
“I did not ask your permission,” Valerio said calmly, though Iona knew he was anything but. She didn’t know the Seelie Prince that well, but his eyes told a thousand stories written many scriptures. The dark depths danced in shadows of anger and death and power.
She was almost afraid for Shula, but the Fire Dancer could hold her own in an argument. Heat surrounded her and sparks seemed to dance just beneath the surface of her skin, her magic responding to her distressed mood.
“Val,” Clay began, cutting in before Shula could snap at the prince again. “I don’t understand… A few hours ago, you said—”
