Page 15 of Wrath of the Fae Queen
I lean against Aldrin for the entire torment, unable to do it without his sturdy presence. Physically, I stand alone in this cage, but our souls are together, intertwined. My back is pressed against his chest and his arm is wrapped around my waist, his warmth bleeding into me and ensuring that I don’t freeze while drenched in rancid juices, even though he is on the other side of the realm. It feels so real that at some level it must be.
Dusk finally falls upon us and the call is made to camp for the night. My legs turn weak with relief. The litter-bearers give me just enough warning to grab the handle in the center of the platform before they lower my cage to the ground. I cannot blame them for the way they jostle me, not when their limbs shake and they rub the pain from their arms and backs. Not when they are as bruised, beaten and sticky as I am.
Within a heartbeat, they leave me without a word, reminding me of the clear distinction between our positions.
I find myself in a clearing beneath ancient magnolia trees with a canopy of huge pink flowers. Their petals are scattered in a carpet across the ground, falling among the moss and thick roots.
I sit in the center of my cage and watch as my fae captors move with busy purpose, setting up the camp. There is an obvious divide between two factions of warriors. One set wears a bronze-and-gold uniform over matching segmented armor, with that symbol of a branching tree, the same as Drake’s tattoo; Ihave discovered they are the Royal Guard, led by Jasper. They were previously known as the King’s Guard before Aldrin was sent into exile and are the rightful protectors of the ruler who sits on the throne.
The second group is the Wildrose Guard from the garrison of Titania’s house, loyal to her family alone. They wear surcoats of black and silver, with the symbol of a wilted rose, over chainmail. These are the soldiers she brought tomyrealm to threatenmypeople.
It is while I analyze these two factions almost refusing to engage with each other that I see them.Figures moving within the shadows of the forest, darting between the trees.
My heart starts racing as I catch the glint of moonlight off swords and arrowheads. All around us, a force amasses, sneaking through the brush. A sizable one and clearly hostile.
Has an army of high fae civilians followed us from one of the towns, deciding they want me dead? Have they whipped themselves into a frenzy of bloodlust to challenge the will of their High Chancellor?
A sudden vivid image of being swarmed and torn apart by the mob fills my mind. Of being stabbed by dozens of blades all at once while I try to fight off impossible numbers alone. Would Titania try to protect her prize, or would such violent acts delight her?
My eyes dart through the inkiness of the woods, counting the number of that hidden force. My hands clench and unclench, wishing for my bow and arrows, or even a blade to defend myself with. Not even a stone is within my reach. I have nothing but the magic I must hesitate to use.
Those insurgents creep closer. Their silhouettes are humanoid, branches and leaves extending from them in the form of long locks of hair, spikes down arms and spines and atop heads as crowns.
Tree nymphs. Friends.
I smile, because I know just how fiercely devoted the low fae are to Aldrin. How they look to him for their salvation.
I do not alert Titania’s fae that the enemy is surrounding them. Why would I?
Their numbers gather within the darkness all around us, then dozens upon dozens of nymphs charge from the shadows, roaring and wielding swords raised high. More spew from great rifts opening within the immense trunks, proving that this is their family grove and that these trees are linked to their heart-stones. Their bodies are half flesh and half wood, with vines wrapping around torsos, branches cascading from hair and magnolia blossoms sprouting all over them.
Pure chaos breaks out in the camp as high fae run in different directions. Some draw their swords and meet the attack, blades clashing and metal screeching. Archers kneel in the center of their forces, releasing ash and iron arrows in volleys at the attackers. Tents are crushed and boiling pots are knocked from cooking fires in the commotion.
I am like a sitting duck with violence erupting all around me. I have never been helpless in a battle before. But I don’t know which of Titania’s supporters is watching.
The bulky body of a high fae flies past my cage and I spin around to see what could have possibly tossed him like a doll.
The trees are animated, moving like many-tentacled monsters. Their thick roots tear from the soil to whip and thrash, curling around charging guards and throwing them across the clearing, or lashing across the ground and taking their feet out from beneath them. The sight is truly horrifying to behold, and beautiful in its own way—a graceful dance smiting my enemy, a constant rain of pink petals falling.
Teams of high fae take on the nymphs controlling the trees. They harden the air around the attacking roots and branchesfor long enough to halt their movement, while others charge at the low fae with swords in hand or whip up localized storms to attack the nymphs. I can’t help noticing they don’t use their earth magic. There is no wrestling the control of trees away from the nymphs that are soul bonded to this grove.
I would have expected Titania to be screaming orders at her soldiers, demanding the deaths of her attackers, but she is nowhere to be seen. The coward is probably hiding and squandering a dozen of her finest fighters.
Shock ripples through me when my eyes land on Torin on the front line, fighting with a halo of guards around him and a sword that blazes with blue fire. I assumed he would hide behind his mother’s skirts.
A dozen high fae fighters race for me, their gold emblems of the ancient tree shimmering in the moonlight.
“Don’t worry, my queen, we will keep you safe.” Jasper leans near the bars and throws the words over his shoulder before taking a defensive stance. He barks a few orders, arranging his warriors around my cage.
Rainier wraps his hands around two of the bars, staring at me intently. “Do not give up your true nature, no matter what happens. Jasperwillprotect you and the nymphswill notharm you.” He looks over his shoulder to the battle, then back at me. “Now, you must understand, I have a role to play.”
I watch Rainier as he strides into the fray, his white hair standing out among the darker tones of the Spring fae. He takes a position right at Torin’s side, protecting his back, and they fight together like true allies. He gives me whiplash. I cannot tell if he plays both sides.
The nymphs are winning the battle, but they are not slaughtering the High Chancellor’s forces. No, many high fae are wrapped in cocoons of fine roots, writhing on the ground. Others have been collected by thick tree limbs and thrown deeper intothe woods, staggering back with severe limps and blood dripping down their faces.
The wind picks up, then howls like a thousand tormented voices. It grows in speed and intensity until my clothes whip around me and I am pelted with twigs and pebbles. Then ghoulish voices are threaded through it.
“Show yourself, High Chancellor, who dares to sit on our king’s throne!”
