Page 20 of Realm of Wind and Vines
The Green Clan, however, doesn’t open the door for them either.
A smug sense of satisfaction pulses through me as we spend the next twenty minutes watching Lavendera and the silverdragons pace impatiently across the grass while the huge mountain doors remain firmly closed.
At last, one of the dragons lets out a roar, and the five people in human form shift back into dragons as well. After once more picking up Lavendera, they fly back the way they came.
Draven lets out a huff of amusement. “Kander didn’t open the doors for them? Damn, I’m actually impressed.”
Before anyone can reply, Grey opens a portal behind us. I send a silent prayer of thanks to Mabona that he didn’t open it while the soldiers were still here.
Clothes rustle as the four of us climb back to our feet and turn towards the glittering blue portal.
“Alright, we’ll try the Green Clan again later when we have more of the other clans on our side,” Draven announces. “So let’s get started with the most important one. The Orange Clan.”
Orion gives Grey a nod. He lets the portal sink back down into the ground before opening a new one. Through it, the edge of a forest becomes visible. I suppress a smile as I think about how fortunate it is that Alistair didn’t come with us, since we’re apparently heading into yet another forest.
That tingling sensation ripples through me again as we once more step through the portal. I study the forest before us while Orion gives Grey instructions. The forest looks wild and messy and muddy. As if it has been raining for weeks on this side of the continent. Tilting my head back, I find that the sky here is indeed covered in dark clouds. I can practically taste the brewing storm on the wind.
Grey bows to his king and then disappears back to what I assume is the Unseelie Court while the rest of my companions turn to look at the forest as well.
A few thick vines swing violently between the trees as a strong wind rips through the landscape. I suppress a shudder even though the temperature is still relatively warm. The wind disturbs the foliage, and drops of water slide down the darkgreen leaves and fall through the air to land on the muddy ground with mutedplops.
“The Orange Clan’s homeland is on the other side of this forest,” Draven says as he starts forward towards the trees. “Let’s go.”
I follow him. And so does Isera.
“I amnotgoing in there,” Orion declares in a haughty voice.
Without breaking stride, Draven gives him a mocking glance over his shoulder. “Is the preening little princeling afraid to get his slippers dirty?”
I have to bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from laughing. Draven is right, though. All three of us are wearing sturdy black boots, and Draven is wearing his dragon scale armor while both Isera and I are wearing the black fighting leathers that Jocasta gave us during the Great Games in the Unseelie Court. But Orion is wearing his fancy formal garments, a pair of stylish shoes, and even his spiky black crown. He’s not exactly dressed for a march through a muddy forest.
“Just because you lack any fashion sense doesn’t mean that everyone needs to dress down to match your ugly looks, you uncultured beast,” Orion retorts, a smile full of sweet poison on his lips.
Coming to a halt, Draven turns around and shakes his head at the Unseelie King. “Or you could’ve just put on a pair of functional boots like the rest of us so that you wouldn’t get stuck in the mud.”
“Do I look like someone who owns a pair ofboots?”
“Fair enough. I do like your shirt, though. It’s very stylish.”
Surprise flits across Orion’s face, and he raises his eyebrows. “Really?”
“No.” Draven shoots him a scowl. “What the hell where you thinking putting that on?” Giving Orion a look of utter disbelief, he waves his hand to indicate the king’s fancy garments. “Someone can just stab right through it.”
Orion lets out a dismissive scoff. “No one would ever be able to get close enough to stab me.”
I suck in a sharp breath.
In a heartbeat, Isera has whipped around from where she was standing in front of Orion and pressed a shard of ice against his throat. The Unseelie King just stares at her in shock for a few seconds, his mouth slightly open and one hand still raised.
Isera gives him a slow and incredibly sharp smile. “You were saying?”
That snaps Orion out of his stupor. Revenge glints in his eyes as he locks a glare dripping with challenge on her. She just stares right back.
A huff of laughter escapes my lips.
Oh, Lyra was most definitely right.
CHAPTER EIGHT
