by Sage, May
No doubt the kingdom could thrive solely on the income from that one export. Fyriron was priceless. Vale wondered why he’d never heard that it was tempered here.
Vale tried the cloak. Perfect fit. And for the first time in days, he wasn’t cold.
The other bags contained provisions, healing charms, unlocking keys to open any coffer, well-carved knives, and handcrafted arrows.
“We have everything we need and more. If this quest should fail, it wouldn’t be for lack of supplies. Your father has been very generous.”
Devi rolled her eyes. “My father has had several thousand years to amass his riches. He can part with things easily enough.”
“The fact he can afford it doesn’t diminish his kindness. He was not obliged to have magical armor worth more than all of Carvenstone combined made for me. Elden is very kind. Probably because I accompany you.”
“Stop supporting him. He never wished to be a father to me before, and I don’t see why he’d start now. Besides, you assume he had anything to do with your armor. You forget you’re popular around here.”
Devi had a point. He searched through the bags and found other things the king of elves might not have thought of: sleeping draughts, warming charms, and even sweets. Everything was small and light so as not to overburden the horses. And, of course, someone had added his violin to the lot, safely stored inside a case.
“So are you,” Vale said. “What did they pack in your bags?”
“Food, a change of maille, soap, charms, girl stuff—”
He stopped her there. “You know what? I don’t think I need to know.”
She laughed and opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Her attention, like his, had been called far to the west.
Something approached, a thing of great power moving too fast and heading right to Elvendale.
Vale drew his sword, Devi lifted her bow, and they mounted their horses.
The city was under attack.
Nine
Divine Intervention
The enemy rushing toward the city of winter was a mile away and barely perceptible one instant, and then at the base of the White Mount the next, too close to the city. In all his years, Vale had never seen such celerity. The enemy would reach Elvendale in moments.
Without discussing their options, he and Devi were on their horses, heading back down to the city.
They were too late. Five minutes, that was all it had taken. They’d gotten on their horses and ridden down the mountain flank in less than five minutes, and a dark fog already engulfed the streets. Elves were confused and coughing. Many shouted, “I can’t see.”
Vale motioned to Devi to cover her mouth and nose. “Poisonous gas.”
Though they were likely immune to it, there was no point in taking chances.
A scream from the lower section of town pierced the darkness.
“Wait,” Vale told Devi as she motioned her horse forward. “I feel fire.” She seemed determined to advance until he pointed out, “Alarik will panic, and we cannot afford to dismount our horses.”
“What, then? The only path down the mountain wide enough for our horses is through the city, in any case.”
He hesitated, reluctant to ride into the fog, although taking one of the many footways down the mountain and getting lost in the woods also presented many dangers, even with the king’s blessing to travel his lands.
Another scream stood out among the rest, for it was unmistakably that of a child. Vale dismounted, got to his feet, removed his coat, and tore off the shirtsleeves before putting it back on.
“We’re the reason for this attack. We leave, it stops. We can blind the horses and push through.”
He tied the fabric around Alarik’s and Midnight’s eyes, whispering reassurances, before grasping their reins and guiding them forward.
Devi remained on her horse and lifted a bow, eyes narrowed. “Vale? Touch me.”
A stunned chuckle escaped his lips. “You certainly have interesting timing.”
“Get your head out of your ass and touch something—my leg, my foot, anything. Skin to skin if you can.”
He did as he was told. If the last few days had taught him anything, it was to trust Devi. She wore long boots, tight pants, and maille; no part of her skin lower than her chest was bare. Vale removed his glove and slid his hand under her tunic, lifting it to her waist. She was unexplainably warm.
“Videmus,” she said.
His vision instantly cleared. He could see the streets and the elves. Some were shielding children, keeping them out of the way. Others blindly rushed forward, determined to find the intruders.
That was a neat trick Devi had up her sleeve. Air magic, he guessed.
Regretfully, he removed his hand from her waist, put his glove back on, and resumed marching toward danger with the reins in hand. The sooner they got out of Elvendale, the sooner they’d cease to endanger its people.
Now that he could see what was in front of his nose, Vale advanced much faster. As they passed by the open city hall, he stopped.
A female lay on the ground, unmoving. She’d fallen face first. Some coward had attacked her from behind, leaving gouges in her back. She was cradling a newborn in her arms. Vale crouched beside her and checked the child’s pulse, although he already knew. The child was now lifeless, its body broken.
He turned to Devi. “We can’t leave.”
She nodded.
The enemy was cowardly, hiding behind the mist and only attacking the vulnerable, suggesting that for all its speed and theatrics, it was weak.
“I am Valerius Blackthorn,” he bellowed, “son of Shea, son of Orin. You’re here for me. Come out!”
Vale walked forward, away from the horses.
“I’m alone. One on one. You’ll not have a better chance to please your masters. Come now and face me, you coward!”
Vale could feel the creature stirring in the shadows. It was prideful. Good.
“Are you only strong enough to slaughter females from behind and kill children? You’re a disgrace. They’ll tell tales of your great cravenness after I’ve gutted you from stem to stern.”
He purposely put distance between himself and Devi. If he was right, the creature was a beast of fire and naturally feared elemental mages.
Something moved in the shadows, and Devi angled her bow.
Vale lifted his hand. “Stay out of this. That thing isn’t going to come out and play if you’re backing me. The recreant fears you, little elf.”
She snorted, and the creature stepped forward.
All pretense of humor disappeared from Vale’s expression. As he’d guessed, the beast was of shadow and fire, with thick, dark mist for fur. Beautiful blue flames surrounded it, but it was not a thing of evil. It resembled a young fox but for the magic trapped inside it. There was a silvery collar around its neck and binds on each leg. Vale had seen such restraints, infused with magic. Some barbarians tamed beasts by inflicting pain until they knew nothing but obedience.
This thing was nothing but a pawn.
Thinking back to the female on the ground and the child in her arms, Vale lifted his sword. “Come at me, coward.”
The beast sneered and leaped forward, fangs exposed. A jet of fire rushed out of its mouth. Praising himself for not caging his stronger self, the dark prince, Vale used all his speed and jumped back fast enough to avoid the fiery stream. The beast attempted to leap at him, all its fire magic ready to strike. It didn’t fight like a fox, relying entirely on its power rather than its claws and fangs.
Vale stood his ground. The fox breathed fire, and the roaring flames hit Vale right in his chest. The fox tilted its head, confused, and spun around to strike him with its blazing tail.
Poor creature. It had never encountered something it couldn’t burn, but a plain cursed canine was no match for a cloak meant to withstand dragon fire. The beast should have learned to bite.
In another world, another time, Vale would have done what he could
for the creature—removed its binds, taught it the meaning of kindness, and released it with its peers—but this was war. There was a chance that the fox would return to its master, tail between its legs, and report everything it had seen: the horses, the maille clothing, Devi’s presence. So Vale thrust his sword through its neck. The least he could do was make it quick.
The dark fog didn’t lift. Vale frowned as Devi trotted forward.
“It wasn’t alone. And this isn’t about attacking the city; you made the beast come forward by gloating, but I’d wager they were told to stay out of the way, create panic…”
“And draw us out,” Vale guessed.
The enemy didn’t want to attack the Winter Court head-on, so instead, it was trying to force them to leave it while spies watched every road.
“I say we stay and kill them all.”
“You’ll do no such thing,” a stern voice said from behind them.
Vale turned to find Elden standing behind Devi at the head of a small contingent. The king waved his arm, and a wind blew all traces of the thick fog away, clearing the air.
“We’ll take care of the vermin and protect our borders,” the king stated.
The elves behind Elden lifted their bows and swords and disappeared between the buildings on either side of the street.
“You have a quest to undertake, if I’m not mistaken. Our city will fare well whether you fail or succeed, youngling. But the fate of the rest of the Isle is in your hands. If you value the lives of the few over the many every time you have a hard choice to make, you are doomed.”
On that note, Elden pulled his sword from its sheath on his back.
Vale and Devi froze as they took in the strange weapon. What it was made of, he couldn’t tell. The blade was too shiny, its edge so sharp it shimmered in the light. The basket hilt curved like an incredibly smooth dragon tooth. Blue strands ran along the sword, through the blade and hilt, like veins. It almost seemed alive.
This weapon was Elden’s divine instrument; Vale would have bet anything on it. The king had always been a silent force of nature, quietly stating his dominance and power. Now, he looked terrible and magnificent—a beautiful, devastating nightmare come to life.
Then, Elden disappeared, and the beasts started screaming.
Vale removed the horses’ improvised blindfolds and hoisted himself onto Midnight.
Ten
Pursued
Devi and Vale traveled the road north, so far in peace.
She guessed the elves had cleared out whatever spies might have been lurking in the woods, for she sensed none.
They came close to wild beasts and things of darkness, but the creatures only watched them carefully without wishing them harm. With no present danger, they let the horses canter so as not to exhaust them on the first leg of their journey. The heavens and hells knew that they might have to gallop through the lands again.
At the base of the White Mount, the temperature improved considerably, and for a time, Vale kept his long cloak open, but by the afternoon, as they rode north, he’d closed it again. As day turned to night, the air chilled further, and it started to rain. The horses bore it well, unlike their masters. Vale was back to cursing under his breath, muttering about the “blasted weather.”
They’d gone most of the day without bickering, perhaps because of this morning’s incident still fresh in their minds.
Few had suffered in Elvendale, and less than a handful of elves had fallen, but their presence had endangered the safety of the Winter Court. It was lucky Elvendale was such a well-protected city, but ancient scions would not be guarding the next place they visited.
They could not linger anywhere.
And then there was the poor fox. Devi had no idea how to bring up the subject, although she had seen the light in Vale’s eyes dim when he’d struck it.
The creature had not been evil.
She wanted to tell Vale she’d killed small game for no other reason than they made good targets and tasted delicious in a bowl of stew. Tell him he’d done the right thing. But the words failed her utterly.
But teasing him she could do; it was as natural as breathing.
“Shivering again? Who knew the dark prince was so delicate.”
“It’s literally freezing. The only reason it’s not snowing is because it’s too wet. The rain is biting.”
“You live in the north, farther up than where we are now, right?” Carvenstone was close to the west coast of the Isle, right at the border between the lands of Corantius and the unseelie realm. “Surely you’re used to such weather.”
“I’m used to staying home with a fire in every room and drinking a warm brew in such weather. We rise for hunts in the winter, of course, but it seldom rains.”
“A cat,” she said.
Vale, riding ahead of her, twisted on his horse to look at her, a brow lifted in question.
“You remind me of an old, grumpy cat.”
He laughed. “Careful, now. One might take it as an invitation to share what I think of you.”
“Do you think I care?”
Devi’s attention was drawn away as the wind whispered around her, indicating her father’s troops were nearby. None approached.
“We have company?” Vale guessed.
She nodded.
Devi half wished Kira were in the woods so they might have seen each other again. But a little more than a day had passed since she’d asked Elden to help Kallan. Kira would have reached Carvenstone by now.
“Good. If your father’s troops are nearby, we should rest here,” Vale suggested. “The horses cannot go much farther without a break, and if I’m not mistaken, we’re but half a day from the border. It’ll be harder to find a peaceful place to lay our heads once we’re out in the open.”
Devi looked at the darkening sky and frowned. “Our internal clocks have changed in the Winter Court. The problem is, the scions and the seelie are day dwellers. Carrying on during the night while they sleep is one of our only advantages.”
Valerius took a moment to think through what she’d said. “Fair point. However, I don’t like the idea of exhausting ourselves or our steeds. I couldn’t so much as close my eyes last night. You can’t have had more than a few hours of rest. It does not improve our odds of defeating any foe we encounter.”
He had a point.
Devi sighed. “Fine. But we could push forward until midnight, at least, and find somewhere to sleep near the border.”
Vale countered, “Let’s compromise. We can sleep four hours here and then carry on until dawn.”
Sleeping now was tempting, so she agreed.
“I’ll take the first guard,” Vale offered.
“No need,” Devi said. “We don’t have much time, and these woods are as safe as anywhere for now. Let us both sleep if we are to do it here.”
He wasn’t inclined to argue. The horses were grazing at a small patch of grass near a stream; Vale spoke to them, whispering words Devi didn’t understand as she’d yet to pass her animal care courses. These were old spells fae had taught the beasts they were on friendly terms with—horses, dogs, and birds. Spells each beast knew the meaning of from the day they were born, just like they knew how to stand and gallop as young foals.
Devi listened absentmindedly while she set up their makeshift beds of clothes and bags under a willow so they would be mostly shielded from the rain.
“Almost perfect,” said Vale as he inspected her work. Then he pushed his bag-pillow so it rested against hers. “Except you happen to be a furnace, so I’ll keep you close, if you don’t mind.”
She glared at him. “What if I do mind?”
He shrugged. “You may not need extra warmth, but I know you enjoy it, Devi Star Rivers, and I have a cloak we can both fit into.”
He was starting to understand her too well for her taste. “Fine. Just keep your hands to yourself.”
Valerius rolled his eyes. “The goal is to rest, not use up our energy. You’re perfectly
safe from me for the foreseeable future, little elf.”
“I’m safe from you for the rest of my life, Blackthorn,” she countered.
He laughed, actually laughed, like he truly believed she was joking.
She wasn’t. He made her feel uncomfortable and out of control. She might not have seen it at first, but hearing him accuse her of consorting with his mother to ensnare him had been a wake-up call—because it had hurt.
She should have just laughed it off and feigned indifference. Had it been anyone else, she would have. What did it matter what he thought of her? He was a stranger who would disappear from her life the moment this mess was over.
She could have dealt with her attraction to a sexy male conveniently there to scratch an itch. This was all she, and anyone in the Court of Night, knew. But however short their acquaintance had been, Valerius Blackthorn had somehow bulldozed his way onto her short list of people who mattered. If she wasn’t careful, she may even grow to care for him, ignoring the fact he was a playful, indifferent royal whose only concern was for his borders and his people. She knew better than to touch him. She knew he’d flirt and even attempt to seduce her on their journey; she would be the only warm hole to fit his dick in until their quest was over. She would shut it down time and time again until they parted ways.
Her resolve was firm. Then she lay down on the bed of grass, and Valerius pulled her against his chest.
Oh, dear. This wouldn’t be easy, would it?
She jolted awake, violently ripped from an unusually peaceful, dreamless slumber. Two hours had passed at most; the night hadn’t yet conquered the sky. Right away, she knew something was wrong. The forest was too silent. The wind carried no talk, not even a whisper.
Sometime over the last couple of hours, Vale had wrapped his arms around her waist. She found she didn’t dislike the feeling. At all.
She shook her head, focusing on more pressing concerns.
“Vale!”
“Mmm?” he moaned sleepily, and pulled her tighter against his chest.