Frostbound Throne: Court of Sin Book Two: Song of Winter

by Sage, May

  “Wait!” Kira said as they approached the semicircular chain of mountains that marked the border of Vale’s principality.

  Kallan pulled on Falkr’s reins, but Kira wasn’t the patient type. She leaped down before the horse had stopped and rushed south to hide behind a haystack in a small field.

  She gestured for him to follow, and he did so.

  “There are eyes on the mountains that are careful to remain unseen,” she whispered. “Is there another way into Carvenstone?”

  The first chain of mountains was called the Fortwall, and it was just that: a fortress carved into nature herself. The only way in was through the well-guarded gap twenty miles north. They had guards patrolling the ridge day and night; the ability to see travelers from miles away was invaluable.

  “Not by land,” he replied. “If we head south, we can catch a boat and land behind the mountains…”

  But the seas were perilous, and there was a high probability there were also eyes on that road.

  “All right,” she said. “Stay here.”

  Kira stepped out of hiding. Without thinking, Kallan seized her hand and pulled her back to safety.

  “What are you doing?” he demanded.

  Kira shrugged. “They’re looking for you, not me. I can probably go in without a problem.”

  “Probably,” he repeated. They could also blast her into oblivion the moment she came within range. “Even if they don’t have orders to kill anyone on sight, let’s say you go in, then what?”

  “Well, I expect there will be a lot of screaming, blood, and fire; then I’ll open the gates and signal for you to come through. Why, you have a better plan?”

  “We don’t know how many soldiers are waiting at the bridge. There could be an entire army! Literally any plan is better than that one.”

  She groaned. “Fae are so boring. Look, I get it, you’re a coward. Nothing you can do about it. But I’m the opposite. Not knowing what I may face is what makes this fun.”

  Stunned, Kallan watched her. How had she survived this long? “How old are you again?”

  She yanked her arm back, glowering. Obviously, he’d hit a sensitive chord.

  “I am the general of the western armies of Elden.”

  “That’s not an answer, and commanding daddy’s army doesn’t count for much.”

  This infuriated her. Good.

  “We will wait here until the cover of night, then hike the Fortwall from the south and enter the breach discreetly when I see an opening. Get onboard with the plan or get out of here.”

  He would not let her get herself killed. She glowered, and he resolutely met her eyes, refusing to give.

  “That will add days to our journey,” she said.

  “Get onboard, or get out,” he repeated.

  Kira scoffed, but she dropped to the ground, sitting with her back to the haystack. “You’re no fun,” she told him irritably.

  Kallan sat next to her and did his best to prevent himself from smiling victoriously. He guessed the beautiful brat rarely lost an argument.

  Soon, it started to rain. Kira scowled pointedly without a word.

  “What’s a little water?”

  “I hate water,” she retorted.

  He shrugged. “So, how old are you, really?” he asked again, curious. “I can’t tell at all.”

  Weaker and more dissipated, youth were usually easily identifiable. By her power alone, Kira was as consequential as any high fae he’d ever met. She might have held her chin high in front of Shea Blackthorn herself. But then there was the ill humor, the pouting, and the temper.

  “Why does it matter?”

  “It doesn’t. I’m just making conversation.” As she made no reply, he continued. “I’m seven hundred and thirty-eight. I think I stopped aging around twenty-three—young, for a male of my kind. My friends find it an endless source of entertainment.”

  “Why?” she asked.

  He snorted. “Lack of facial hair. General air of youth. When they wish to be cruel, they use words such as effeminate.”

  “They’re idiotic,” Kira stated. “You definitely look like a dick.”

  Was that her idea of a compliment? Probably not.

  “Twenty-eight,” she finally said.

  He lifted a brow.

  “I’m twenty-eight. Devi’s my twin.”

  Kallan asked, “Why was she in Asra, then?”

  Kira’s shoulders lifted and dropped. “Royal politics. What do I know of such things? Your queen asked for her, and so my father gave her away.” The corner of her lip hiked up. “She was so distressed when she heard she had to leave, you know. That only shows we’re never happy with our lot. I would have given anything to travel. See the world.” The ghost of her smile disappeared. “Why are you being chased, anyway? You don’t seem that important.”

  Kallan laughed. He could have made himself seem worthy of notice. Told her he was the captain of Valerius’s guard, his first advisor, and the lord of a duchy in the south—a crumbling land of no worth, but he still had a title and that meant something to some.

  Instead, he pointed to his hair. “Brown dye,” he said. Then he gestured to his cloak. “Vale’s cloak to confuse scents. They’re chasing Vale.”

  Revolted, she asked, “He’s using you as bait?”

  Kallan laughed. “Hardly. Vale doesn’t use people. I volunteered. If we’d stayed together, their entire forces would have attacked us; splitting up made sense. And I’m not as weak as you believe me to be. I’m alive, after all.”

  She was entirely unapologetic. “You have no magic. At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter how well you can hold a sword or shoot a bow if your enemy can kill you with a wave of their hand.”

  Kallan laughed. “So certain, are you? Yet here I am after over seven hundred years, having survived the War of the Realms and battled against many mages, including elves.”

  Kira blinked, startled and confused. “You’re kidding.”

  “There are several forms of power, Kira Rivers Star. Do not let your strength turn to arrogance. It’s as unbecoming as it is dangerous.”

  After a pause, she conceded, “All right, fair enough.”

  “We should spar someday. See who comes on top.”

  She chuckled. “Oh, I can guarantee I’ll come on top, Kallan Blacks.”

  His turn to be startled. He hadn’t expected her to flirt. He hadn’t been prepared for it.

  Kallan praised the gods when a high-pitched cry interrupted them. He looked high in the sky and spotted a bird.

  “It carries a message—for you, I think,” said Kira.

  Few fae talked to animals, but Kallan had heard that the skill was still taught to elves.

  And indeed, when the bird saw them, it flew straight to him.

  It landed on his forearm and extended its foot. A small scroll was attached to its leg.

  Kallan frowned as he opened it.

  The message was written in Vale’s hand but not in his usual tone. The note was full of gibberish. “I shall join my mother as is my duty. You may meet me south in the land of our forefathers.”

  Valerius had never uttered or written anything quite that pretentious in his life. There was more to this message.

  “What? What’s the matter?”

  Kallan lifted the note. “This. It comes from Vale, but it’s nonsensical. There’s a meaning behind it, I just need to figure it out.”

  The female snatched the paper from his hand and read it. Then, she said, “No one with half a brain would give their intentions away in such times.”

  “Indeed. It also sounds nothing like him. He says south to his mother because of his duty. Vale only acknowledges the duty to his people in Carvenstone. I believe he means he’s headed north to the lands of his father. The opposite.” He petted the bird’s head and fetched a piece of butter biscuit from his bag to share. “Where do you come from, little one?” he wondered out loud.

  “Rhionhave,” Kira replied automatically.


  Kallan watched her pet the bird. “Are you sure?”

  She inclined her head. “This kind of raven comes from Wyhmur, northwest of Elvendale. We trade them to fae from time to time. He smells of fish, manure, and fuel. Definitely Rhionhave or somewhere near it.”

  Kallan looked west to the mountains of Carvenstone.

  If Kira was right, Vale was heading to the Arched Sea to cross into Corantius.

  He could join him, or he could return to his people.

  Kallan rolled the message and put it back on the raven’s leg.

  “Are you ready for another trip, little one?” he asked the bird, which cooed merrily. Fae may have forgotten the words of beasts, but beasts still remembered theirs. “Then keep flying west. Someone will try to catch you. Just let go of your message and fly away.”

  The note hadn’t been meant for him, and although he had deduced his friend’s real destination from it, he knew better than to follow. Vale had contradicted himself throughout the message, and he’d told Kallan to join him. It meant he wanted him to stay put.

  Besides, Kallan knew Vale would never forgive him if he didn’t try to help their people.

  “What now?” Kira asked.

  “Now we stick to the plan.”

  Nineteen

  Trust

  “So,” Vale said without preamble, “how do you like it?”

  They were on their fourth day of riding since Rhionhave, and for the last few hours, Devi had been silent. She wasn’t one to beg, but she was ready to ask nicely if he could be so good as to massage her from head to toe again because everything hurt. Her ass was getting blisters. Her blisters were getting blisters.

  “What, the hundred hours on the road, the cold, the lack of food, or the rain?” she asked.

  They hadn’t stopped for more than a couple of hours here and there. Vale didn’t think it wise to go near a town, and as the countryside of open fields didn’t provide much cover, they hadn’t dared to make camp.

  He promised they could rest at the base of the Low Crest to recover their strength before they attempted to pass the bridge. Devi mentally ticked off the miles they crossed; unless she was mistaken, they’d see the hills on the horizon soon. Finally.

  “No, the Rillriets, home of the Rivers. Your lands.”

  Her eyes widened in surprise. No one had ever told her the location of her mother’s home in the seelie realm. Despite her exhaustion and low spirits, Devi forced herself to pay attention to the landscape before her eyes.

  She took in the bright patches of purple and green fields and the golden roofs atop the small houses in the distance. They could not have arrived at a better time, for where the sun set on the horizon, fire met water and shone upon the dozens of nitid streams of water. Devi blinked and discovered she wasn’t so shattered after all.

  “It’s rather picturesque, I’ll admit,” she breathed in awe. Noticing the blue hood of her cape had fallen on her shoulders, she pulled it back atop her head. “But it is not my land.”

  She leaned forward and patted Alarik’s neck. “Go on, old boy. If you get us to the damn hills before midnight, I have more sugar for you.”

  Thus prompted, the horse drew upon his last reserves of strength.

  As they rode past one of the purple fields, an unfamiliar scent assaulted her nostrils, making her dizzy. No other flower had ever thus compelled her attention. She eyed them closely. It wasn’t a field at all, but a pond of dark water, and the flowers looked like lilies, only with black leaves and mauve petals.

  Unexpectedly, and without stopping Midnight, Vale leaped to the ground, picked one up, and jumped right back onto the moving horse. He always rode a few steps ahead of her; she’d watched the whole thing, amused and reluctantly impressed.

  “Show-off!” she yelled at him.

  Instead of replying, Vale threw the flower over his shoulder. Devi caught it and lifted it to her nose. It smelled even better.

  “What are they?” she asked.

  “Godslilies! The main trade of Rillriets. The seeds are medicinal, the petals are poisonous, and the leaves are used for many binding spells. From one end of the Isle to the other, these flowers have value, and they only grow here because they thrive on water magic. The Rivers have blessed these lands.”

  She could see that and feel it inside her.

  “So, what happens now that there are no Rivers?”

  Vale shrugged. “It might take a century or two, but these ponds will die eventually. Many things are lost to this world because their guardians forsake them. We Blackthorns grew golden roses that never withered. According to what I’ve read, ground into powder, they can prolong the life of anyone or anything. But somewhere along the line, we decided we preferred wielding swords to gardening, and the roses are no more.”

  A sad story, but she laughed nonetheless. “I can’t picture it, sorry. You, with a cute spade and a water can, tending to your roses.”

  “I do have a garden in Carvenstone, I’ll have you know. And it is rare that a day goes by without my spending time in it.”

  That surprised her, although fae were fond of nature. “With a spade?” she asked hopefully.

  “With a book. The gardener would not have me mess with his domain even if I’d wanted to.”

  She tried to imagine him resting in a flower garden. But to her, Vale was the male in the traveling cloak, with a sword at his side. Vale was known as a dangerous, overgrown boy with too much power, and he’d played the part well at first. She could still remember him being casual and flippant in his court finery, but it had not suited him.

  Her history classes painted a different picture. Right after the War of the Realms, in the days when they’d had to rebuild the court, there had been little provisions, and little enthusiasm. The Academy teachers had spoken of a prince who led his people with an iron fist, a leader who accepted nothing short of extraordinary. That she could envision.

  “I don’t think I can see it. You, at peace, reading quietly.”

  “Let us hope the time will come when you can see it with your own eyes. You would like Carvenstone. The caves in the mountains were built in another time, sculpted like great halls meant to survive a thousand wars. It is a magnificent court. The first unseelie king made it his home, but later, his successor conquered the lands of the wolves in the south and found Asra a better position; easier to defend, no doubt. If Carvenstone were ever under siege, there would be nowhere to run, as it’s right on the coast.”

  She asked, “Don’t you have boats?”

  “Aye, many,” Vale replied, “but most fae of the unseelie court have earth magic in their blood. They’d rather die on firm ground than live on the water. Look ahead. We’re almost there.”

  Their horses had just crested a hillock, and they could see a chain of hills only a few miles away. None were tall, but they extended as far as the eye could see from the west to the east.

  “Low Crests,” she guessed.

  “Indeed.”

  “Whoever named it had no imagination.”

  “That, or too many places to name. Come. There are old tunnels dating back to the war west of here. If memory serves, there is water inside. I don’t believe they’re occupied. Our enemy may not have thought to post guards there; they may not know of them at all. They lead nowhere, and they’re unpleasant. We’ll rest there until dawn.”

  “How do you know all that?” she asked.

  That question had been on the tip of her tongue for days, as he always had an answer at the ready, whatever the question, but she’d never said a thing. The male’s ego certainly didn’t need further stroking.

  Vale winked at her. “Reach my age and you’re bound to have learned a thing or two.”

  “I’m sure, but don’t you forget things eventually?”

  “No,” he replied simply.

  She blinked. “You don’t forget anything?”

  “I used to, in my youth, but it is possible to acquire certain skills if you’re willing to pay the pri
ce.”

  Ah! She’d known it. “So, it is magic.”

  Vale nodded. “Yes. A sorcerer was in need of a youthful, foolish adventurer stupid enough to steal a treasure from a water nymph, and in exchange, he offered a blessing. What can I say? I was but eighty-three, and it sounded like fun.”

  “I’m twenty-eight, and I’m not stupid enough to do that.”

  “You forget: I have testosterone.”

  Fair point.

  It took perhaps two hours to reach the tunnels at the foot of the hills. The entrance was concealed between mounds, hard to spot for anyone who hadn’t been there before. Vale dismounted his horse and remained at the entrance, perplexed.

  “This place isn’t empty,” he stated.

  Devi scanned the area with her mind. “I don’t sense anything alarming, but I will defer to the psychic among us.”

  Vale stepped forward. “They do not have enough magic or strength to be perceived by you. You can only sense power. But weak or strong, all fae have thoughts of their own. Come. I think we will be in no danger in such company.”

  And so they advanced.

  The tunnels were dark and pungent; that was what he’d meant when he’d said they were unpleasant. It stank of petrol and damp.

  They walked in silence, and before long, they heard terrified whispers.

  Vale paused and extended his hand, reaching out to Devi. She stepped toward him and took it. He guided her ahead of him, inviting her to take the lead. As she passed him, Vale lowered her hood.

  “Leave it down, if you don’t mind. They will want to see your face.”

  His words made her guess that the fae hiding here were of the Rillriets, but nothing could have prepared her for their greeting.

  Two dozen common and lesser fae were huddled together, shivering in fear.

  “Hello,” she said, inching forward so as not to frighten them. “We’re not here to cause you harm. We were hoping to rest for a while.”

  Her vision worked well enough, but lesser fae weren’t gifted with the same senses as her kind, so she lifted her hand, calling a small flame to her so she could be seen in the darkness.