“Relle,” Katie whispered furiously. “Knock that off. They were barely interested in us.”
“And now they’re not interested at all. They won’t even remember seeing us.” She wiped at her nose, sniffing. Red dotted her fingers.
Katie blanched. “Relle…”
“It’s nothing.”
“Blood coming out of your nose is the opposite of nothing.”
“It doesn’t matter. We can’t risk being discovered.” She turned to Jessa before Katie could say more. “What’s our plan now?”
The crowd gave a sudden hiss, shouting for Simith to get up, to strike back. She touched her stomach, trying not to be sick. How long before that armor turned completely red? How long before he fell for good, and her with him?
“There’s no one to help us.” Jessa squared her shoulders. “I’m going to warn the trolls myself.”
Katie grabbed her arm before she could move. “You’re not going over there by yourself. What if trolls eat pookas? You don’t know what you’re doing.”
“He’s all by himself in there and he’s running out of time. We can’t give up.” Panic cracked her voice. “I have to do something.”
“We’re not giving up.” Katie took her firmly by the shoulders, her eyes imploring. “But you’re not doing this without us, okay? You’re not alone. For a year and a half, I’ve been trying to show you that, but now I’m telling you. You are not alone, Jessa. Let us help you. Please. Let us in.”
Heat built behind her eyes. Her heart ached. She didn’t want to let anyone in, didn’t Katie understand? It was safer to drift rootless on the current rather than reaching for a shore that might be torn away in another storm. Yet, looking at her friend, her dear friend who’d stayed by her side through the worst moments of her life, who braved this terrifying world of magic for her, Jessa realized she had to. If she couldn’t do this, if she didn’t extend her trust, she would lose this friendship. She would lose herself and be caught forever in the stranglehold of grief.
“Okay.” With a knot of fear tightening her insides, she clasped Katie’s hands, squeezing hard, and grabbed onto the shore. “We go together.”
Chapter Seven
He could’ve sworn he saw a pooka in the crowd.
Simith swiped at his brow, but when he looked again, it was gone. Perhaps he was worse off than he thought. What would a pooka be doing here?
"I grow tired of this, Sun Fury,” Drokeh grated out. “And I think neither of us has time for delay. You're growing weaker." He advanced. "Slower. It can't be from the scratches I've dealt you despite your convincing performance.” Anger rose in his voice as he spoke. “You warn of a trap, but these vague scrawls in the mud don’t tell me where it will spring."
With a roar, he swung his hatchet in a swift stroke. It cracked the rim of Simith’s shield. He nearly dropped it, wheeling backward to get out of the king’s reach.
He shared Drokeh’s frustration. What a torment this was. Despite the inexplicable boost of energy a few minutes ago, his strength flagged anew, and the words he drew in the mud weren’t enough. The closer the moon came to setting, the weaker he became. He sensed the end of his remaining time, and hope, coming like the final sands draining down an hourglass. Already his body leaned into the strikes, lagging his footwork, making his arm sag when a blow was imminent. The commands on his true name made his very flesh yearn for the fatal wound.
“There is a way out of this, pixie.” Drokeh circled him. “A way to free you from the geas, if you are bold enough.” His lips lifted on one side in a smirk. “But for that, you’ll have to trust me.”
Trust him. Simith hesitated. His thoughts spun toward his past, to the flames that had devoured his brother and his home. He had fought so many battles since then. Always, the trolls stood as an enemy opposite him. Now, their king asked for his trust. He might as well have turned the world upside down. Simith didn't know if he had any trust left in him.
"The geas hides your voice but I know your thoughts, Sun Fury, for they are mine too." He shook his head, as though he recognized the absurdity of his own request. "If it were my choice, I would never have agreed to that first peace meeting you petitioned. After all you have done, I had no interest in your words.”
Stunned, Simith movements halted. He’d been shocked himself when King Drokeh accepted his request. But if he hadn’t wanted to, what caused him to agree? Drokeh prodded him forward with a slash of his dagger.
“I made a promise,” the king went on as if he indeed knew Simith’s thoughts. “Two years past, I ran afoul of one of your little scouts. I was reckless after one of the more gruesome victories you secured.” He curled his lip at him. “I left camp alone to think. Clever quiet she was in those trees. By the time I saw her, she had the arrow trained on my unshielded heart."
A tremor of premonition ran through Simith’s limbs. Two years ago? A scout?
Drokeh feinted with hatchet and blade, stepping close and drawing back. “Instead of taking my life, she extracted an oath. She would let me live if I swore to hear out any offer of peace made to me, no matter the source.” He laughed, a harsh, scraping sound. “I wanted to refuse, certain she only played with me. But then she said, ‘Don’t let the blade wield you. It’s your hand on the hilt.’”
Simith stopped. It felt as though his heart did too. Rimthea had once said those same words to him.
Drokeh came in hard. Simith brought up his blade in time to meet the troll king’s hatchet. His shield blocked the long dagger. They stood, locked together.
“As you can guess, I gave my oath.” The king’s lamplight eyes burned into his. “If I’d known that offer would come from you, I might have preferred death. We are each here for our own reasons and your silence is intolerable. You must trust me to free you from this geas, or the fairies will triumph over us all.”
Rim’s voice echoed in his head.
It’s your hand on the hilt. Your choice. Your will.
It can’t have been anyone else Drokeh met in those woods. That he should hear her words in this place, at the edge of his demise, seemed impossible. He glanced up at the stars. She was gone, yet she had brought them all to this moment.
“Give me some sign you agree,” Drokeh said. “I will do the rest.”
He’d made the mistake of ignoring her once. He would not make it again. In answer, Simith let his shield droop in his grasp. Drokeh took the opening, wrenching it off his arm and hurling it away. The troll king wrapped his great fist high on Simith’s throat and lifted him off his feet. Pressure exploded behind Simith’s eyes and blood pounded in his ears. He could get no air, his windpipe squeezed shut. His true name forced his fingers to open, dropping his sword to the ground. Around them, the crowd roared.
Toward the lightless end of the trolls’ side of the arena, he glimpsed a torch flare to life. It scattered shadows, outlining a trio of silhouettes. Their shape was not that of trolls. A commotion of voices followed, but Simith couldn’t decipher them. His ears felt stuffed with cotton.
Drokeh released his broad blade, and from behind the circle of armor over his chest he drew an onyx spike the length of his palm. It was thicker at one end, gliding down to a vicious point. The darkness seemed to swirl within its narrow depths, a spinning galaxy of shadow-stars. Simith had never seen a twilight diamond shaped like this before.
“The only way to free you,” Drokeh raised it high, “is with your death.”
He plunged the spike into Simith’s throat. A blinding shock of pain vibrated through his body. His mouth fell open. His vision blurred. In the distance, he thought he heard his name screamed in anguish.
The command on his true name melted away, returning his will to him. Simith hands grasped the troll king’s arm, struggling. His mind swam. Had he been tricked? Had the other’s intention been to kill him all along?
“Hold still, pixie,” Drokeh barked at him, moving the spike in his flesh like a needle seeking its stitch. “It’ll slip away from me if you keep wig
gling about.”
Simith didn’t understand. The wound felt strange. His skin tingled, pinpricks cascading from heel to scalp. Magic pulsed in his throat, undulating softly, as though he’d swallowed a draught of dark silk.
Simith blinked hard. He fought to stay conscious. Air. He needed air.
The bellows from the crowd had fallen to murmurs of confusion. He couldn’t see the triad, but they had to know something was amiss. They would act soon.
Drokeh’s eyes narrowed. “There it is. Take hold of the shard and open your mouth.”
He complied, transferring his hand from the king’s arm to the twilight diamond’s cool length. Simith jolted in surprise when Drokeh jammed his fingers into his mouth. He tried to hold still. His eyes watered. Claws scraped the back of his throat.
“I have it.” Drokeh huffed in triumph.
He retracted his hand. Black coated his fingers like ink. Pinched between them shimmered the bright spark of the geas. He flicked it away, its light extinguishing long before it landed. Lowering Simith to his feet, Drokeh held him steady with a grip on his shoulder and jerked the spike from his throat. Simith’s legs nearly went out from under him. Black ichor drained from his mouth as the wound closed behind the diamond’s departure. He choked and spat out the geas’ remnants, and before anything more could prevent him, he spoke.
“The legion,” he managed in a shredded voice, “was sent to surround your army at its camp. The fight…just a lure to bring you here.”
“An ambush?” Drokeh’s grip tightened. “And your kind joined them?”
“Controlled,” he rasped, “with our true names.”
“Where—” The king’s eyes shifted over his shoulder. He swore. Dragging Simith down with him, he lifted the fallen shield. Three successive thumps slammed against it. Arrows.
“Those weren’t aimed for me.” Drokeh slid an assessing glance his way. He turned to his people’s side of the arena, raising a hand to signal. It froze halfway. He tore the veil from his eyes. “What are they doing?” he bellowed as a battle cry went up.
Trolls surged along the stone ring. The fairies scrambled to meet them, blades crashing. More arrows whizzed past. Simith’s vision cleared along with his thoughts. They had to find cover. In the arena, they had nothing but his cracked shield. He coiled into a crouch alongside the troll king, ready to spring away as soon as he knew which direction to go.
“My king,” someone shouted. A troll cleared the stones in a swift leap. Flanked by two archers who sent volley after volley from their bows, she carried a shield twice the size of Simith’s. Moonlight slid across its metal surface. He smelled iron.
“General Seshi,” Drokeh growled as they arrived. “Explain this.”
“The fairies have double crossed us, Sire,” she said, not all breathless despite her sprint. Seshi positioned her body and the shield to protect her king, though she spared a sneer for Simith. “This fight was nothing more than a distraction. They’ve sent their forces to surround our army where its camped.” She smirked, lambent eyes scanning their enemies. “Where they think we’re camped, anyway.”
Simith tipped his head back in relief. A false camp. Brilliant. What a shame he couldn’t be there when Lord Jarrah learned how foolish he’d been to underestimate his enemy. Sheer luck alone would not have kept the Twilight Grotto out of their hands for a hundred years.
“The decoy tents won’t give our soldiers much time to evade them. If they sent the entire legion, they’ll be thick as fleas out there.”
“I’ve already sent the ravens to advise our army to pull back to protect our borders.”
“Good.” Drokeh frowned. “How did you learn of this? I’ve only just heard myself.”
“It came by a strange source.” Seshi’s mouth twisted, and she gestured with some impatience. “We have to leave, my king. The few troops here with us can only buy a little time for our escape.” She turned the flame of her gaze on Simith. Her broad blade appeared in her hand. “Permit me to dispatch this mongrel before departing.”
Simith tensed, but Drokeh pushed her arm back. “He comes.”
“But Sire, you can’t truly believe this one desires peace.”
“His masters went to the trouble of gagging him with a powerful geas. I’ll hear what the enemy of my enemy has to say.” He stood, relieving her of the shield. “Bring him.”
Chapter Eight
Jessa nibbled on a fingernail while she stood next to the trolls’ covered wagon, and tried not to look at the monstrous black bear harnessed to it. With armor plating its sides and head, she suspected the animal served as both a weapon and a beast of burden. Despite the sounds of battle in the near distance, it sat unconcerned in the dark while she jumped as easily as a taut wire. Tucked behind this small hill, she couldn’t see what was going on and hadn’t yet determined if she was glad for it or not. She wouldn’t be of much use out there, but not knowing was somehow worse.
Relle and Katie had gone to retrieve the grass horses. After the troll guards rushed them away from the arena, Relle had balked at the wagon. In the light of the single torch they carried, Jessa spotted the metal framework. Iron, most likely, given the queasy look Relle gave it. She’d managed to convince their guards to let her and Katie retrieve their horses. That had prompted a strange look from the trolls—maybe pookas didn’t ride horses here?—but they’d merely agreed, eager to return to the fight underway.
Waiting alone, Jessa paced alongside the strange conveyance. Framed like a metal ribcage on spiked wheels, it was covered in a grey canvas mottled like stone, but flexible. When she’d pressed her fingers against the rough exterior, it gave. The whole thing brought to mind a portable cave—including the bear. Shining her torch inside from one end, the light revealed mats covering the floor, tightly woven in labyrinthine patterns of black and white.
She resumed pacing. The clash of battle continued and a horrendous death wail made her jump. It didn’t sound like Simith, but every cry reminded her of the moment the troll king had stabbed him in the throat. They’d managed to convince the trolls’ outer guard to allow them to speak with their leader. General Seshi. An imposing figure of fang and muscle, Jessa had been grateful for Relle’s steady nerves as her friend explained the legion’s movements, and the fairies’ attempt to kill Simith before he could reach the peace meeting. General Seshi returned their claims with skeptical silence.
Then the roar from the crowd turned Jessa’s attention back to the fight. It wasn’t fear for her own life that made her scream Simith’s name. Impaled by a black spike, his body shuddered, agony written all over his face. It was like watching the murder of a friend. If not for the trolls’ general blocking her path, she might have rushed out there.
“A twilight diamond cannot take a life,” the general had growled. “It is a healing stone. Magic made solid.”
“But you—we have conduits for healing,” she’d said, barely remembering to refer to herself as part of this world.
“Some curses and hexes are more powerful than our own magic.”
No sooner had she explained than the troll king set Simith back on his feet and removed the spike. The relief had almost stolen her breath, and she rubbed her face at the memory.
The bear rumbled in warning. Jessa paused her pacing at the far side of the wagon. The shadow of the animal’s bulk shifted as it stood. The noise of battle had grown louder. Coming this way? Had Simith made it out of the arena alive? She glanced down at herself. If he died, how long would it take for her to feel it?
She pushed dire thoughts away and unsheathed Simith’s knife. The magic practically yanked her forward just as a lone figure came before the bear, hands held down, a sword gripped in one. The mutter of a word she couldn’t make out calmed the animal and it sat again with a disgruntled huff. She shouldn’t have been able to distinguish his identity, still steeped in shadow, but she did. Those shoulders. That stance. She knew them too well from her dreams.
“Simith!”
The figure turned, the sword rising. Sighting her, he stopped short. Still beyond the reach of her torch, she couldn’t see his face, but she sensed his shock.
“Jessa?” came the astonished reply.
He broke into a jog without sheathing his sword. When the light touched him, the bloody streaks on his armor alarmed her again, but he moved as though they didn’t trouble him. He looked exhausted. And pleased, so pleased to see her. It sent a warm flutter through her stomach, especially when he came in close and clasped her hand.
“How can you be here?” he marveled. His eyes rose to her bunny ears and back down. He smiled faintly. “You’re a pooka again.”
“Oh.” She ran a hand over one velvety stalk. “I needed a disguise, but now I wish I could get rid of it. Who knew glamour would be so itchy? I probably have a rash under here.”
She winced. Why was she talking about rashes two seconds after finding him?
Fortunately, amusement sparkled in his brown eyes. “That is doubtful.” He reached up and brushed his thumb gently over her cheeks. “Keep your ears hidden, and none will be the wiser.” With his touch, the irritating glamour fell away. Not that she’d notice it anymore, her skin preoccupied with other sensations.
“Why did you come?” He sobered, glancing behind him. “It’s not safe here. Your family will fear for your absence.”
Jessa twitched backward, startled by the comment. She swallowed. “I guess you haven’t seen the full story yet.”
“Full story?” Simith blinked in confusion. Awareness crept into his gaze. He looked down at her hand in his and a flush rose on his cheeks. He released her. “Forgive me. I…My dreams have been strange of late.”
“That’s why I’m here. We—”
Something flashed past, nicking her upper arm. Simith reacted faster than the pain. He grabbed her, and spun them behind the back of the wagon. The bear roared, eliciting a startled squawk from their attacker. Her torch lay on the ground where they’d stood, flames struggling wildly against the dirt. The pain arrived, hot on her skin, and she flinched.
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