Page 65 of Vathia
Aemon has practically been ruling in his mother’s stead for ages, and can assist politically.
Jesper and I will keep her safe from any threat that even breathes wrong in her direction, and while I may not be able to make her laugh like he does, I’m fine with being her silent guardian.
And once Talyn comes to terms with his most recent trauma, he will be the glue that holds us all together by being the leader we all know he is when she can’t carry the burden on her shoulders alone anymore.
Not that she’s ever alone in this, but even from a young age she preferred to do everything herself and we can’t let her do that. We won’t let her do that.
As we head to wherever the general is taking us, I notice other fae, both male and female, stopping as we pass, their gazesfollowing us curiously, a few whispering with widened eyes. I’m sure there are rumors of the Princess’s return, but it could also be about us. We’ve never openly betrayed the Lords before, preferring to keep our work in the shadows as we tried to avoid mass casualties. So the five of us here at the front lines after a devastating blow would be something nice and chewy for the rumor mills, and I’m sure Aemon’s spies will keep him notified of whatever is being said.
We walk further into the encampment and we begin to see the casualties: tents upon tents of injured warriors, some laying in cots, others sitting on the dirt.
Ravina stops and then takes a step towards the injured. “We need to do something,” she whispers in horror.
Without thinking, I place my hand on her armored shoulder, my gauntlet clinking against her. “We will,” I rumble. “Come on, Little Warrior. There’s nothing you can do for them right now.”
She glances up at me with a hardened expression and something passes between us. An understanding and a promise for revenge.
I’m lost in her sapphire eyes, and all I know is I will destroy anyone she wants. I will be any weapon she needs me to be, the silent protector in this war-ridden realm. She will never have to worry about her safety. Not even from me—because the biggest danger to her right now are these undeniable, all-consuming feelings I have for this tiny female. I will not hurt her. Not ever.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
THE GENERAL OF THE VATHIAN army leads us into one of the largest tents I’ve seen in this encampment so far. As we enter, there are other warriors of high rank milling around a large table supporting an enormous map of Damorleia with a bunch of colored miniature flags. Everyone is in armor and appears exhausted as they turn their heads in our direction.
I keep my facial features in check, making sure to get the nerves I feel under wraps in a predominantly male-filled room, but I do spot a couple imposing-looking females scattered among them. I wish I had Nero with me, but I thought it would be best to keep him with Vasari, at least until we figure out what’s going on here.
Before any of them can open their mouths the general announces to the room, “On your knees for the missing Princess of Damorleia!”
A couple fae drop to their knees, making my gut clench with discomfort at the sight, even though I know this is supposed to be my birthright. “Please rise. There’s no—”
“How do we know she’s even who she says she is?” One of them pipes up, crossing his huge arms across his chest, making his shoulders look broader.
Jesper makes a noise that sounds like a cross between a growl and a hiss, which would make me laugh if I didn’t see the glint of metal twirling in his hand.
What shocks me though, is it isn’t him who jumps in before I can speak, but Talyn.
“Ravina, formerly known as Maeven, has been in hiding since she was a child, but I know without a doubt in my bones that she is our Princess, and you will give her the respect she deserves. She’s here to assist us, and as the last Gallalaus fae, she will help stop the tyranny in the north.”
He scoffs. “There’s no way she’s a Gallalaus fae. Prove it.”
The female beside him shakes her head. “We all saw them ride in with a royal dragon. Whether she is the princess or not, the dragons have spoken on who they’ve chosen to rule.” Her gaze meets mine with a spark of mischief and challenge as she dips her chin low.
I smile and dip my head back at her before turning my attention on the male. We had suspected that some fae might not be so accepting of my presence, especially if they thought I abandoned them—even if I was hidden and manipulated with a magick necklace—so we decided that if it came to it, I would give them a show of my magick.
Without breaking eye contact with the warrior, I go through the motions of summoning all my elemental magick. Striking my belt, I summon flame before reaching for the water in a nearby goblet, dousing the fire that rests in my palm. With an exhale I grasp the stale breeze within the tent, strengthening it, whipping it around the room, knocking parchment to the floor and tousling hair. It comes to me as easy as breathing now. I don’t have to think about it, so I watch their faces, already seeing a mix of shock, surprise, disbelief and irritation, and it lights a fire in my gut. They want a show? They need to see it for themselves? Fine. Let’s do this.
I place my hands on the ground, summoning roots from a nearby tree, creating a massive and intricate throne at the head of the table. Several of the men and one lithe woman are forced to move out of the way. They stare as delicate snowdrops bloom in front of their eyes, decorating the top.
But I’m not finished yet.
Reaching out, I search for the minds in the room, just like how Jesper taught me, breaking through their walls with ease and holding them all prisoners in their own bodies. Then, taking a deep breath to staunch the fear as I access the magic Iknow least well, I pull the shadows from the corners of the room, letting them become tangible tendrils that wrap around me like an old friend. I’ve worked non-stop to bring these shadows out of hiding and I’ll never neglect this part of my magick again. I let the shadows adorn me for long enough that I can step up onto the table, hiding the fact that they aren’t yet strong enough to lift me. With relief I let them recede gradually behind me as I walk forwards and take my place before my wooden throne and then turn to face my audience.
The fighting magick of the Vopn Fö washes over me as my anger builds at the fact that I feel on display, that I’m forced to prove myself over and over again—and because I’m in their minds I know they all feel it. I show each of them a fear unique to their own mind, and when I have their full attention, I grab throwing blades off the nearest warrior and whip the three of them consecutively down the long table and through the clothing of the warrior who doubted me, pinning him to a wide wooden beam: one in his left sleeve, one in the crotch of his trousers, and one through his hair, an eyelash width from the tip of his pointed ear.
Before I let go of their minds, I whisper into them. “I am the last of my kind, and all I want is harmony for my people and revenge on those who ripped my family away from this realm. Help me bring peace back to Damorleia.”
The room lets out an audible exhale as each and every fae in the room drops to their knees with their head bowed, and the male who originally challenged me ducks his head. “My sincerest apologies, Princess Ravina. Let me beg for forgiveness by giving you my sword.”
Someone behind me growls and I think it might have been Talyn, but that must be in my head.
