His power is native to my court?
"I see you don't know your history. Your kind, south of the border, has never been fond of recording what you consider boring."
Touché.
"Some five or six thousand years ago, Denarhelm extended to the southwest, but a few unseelie folk had a mind to take it. To do so, they called to a sacrificial magic that let them blend in with darkness. Some of them were fire users, others air mages. They abandoned their link to the element in exchange for control over darkness. Regardless of how many battles we won, they'd destroy us in the night. We had no choice but to flee. These unseelie took the Court of Mist. Their leader fathered the line of Oberon, but all who followed him were Myst. As the power wasn't natural, as such, it was only rarely given to their descendants."
In just a few minutes, this playful king had turned everything I knew on its head.
I think I could stay here and hear him talk for years and not realize any time had passed.
Before I let that happen, I straighten.
"King Titus, with your leave, I humbly request your assistance. I only have to listen for a moment to realize your people and I would benefit from standing together. Denarhelm and Tenebris, we have a savage, bloody history that links us all. But we're falling, and you still stand. Help us fight the invasion, and we'll build a future between the two realms of the folk."
The king watches me, and his green eyes aren't playful or kind at all. They're probing, assessing, weighing.
He smiles without an ounce of kindness. "Oh, I see it. The rage, the darkness. The madness. I see it buried within your pretty eyes." He turns to Meda. "Your granddaughter truly is an Evergreen, is she not? Beautiful, hard, and filled with bloodlust."
I'm taken aback when he steps in and appears right in front of me. Drusk is on me immediately, but I lift one hand to hold him back.
Titus's eyes aren't green at all at this moment.
They're amethyst. Violet. Just like Morgana's. Just like my hair.
I know my history better than most after reading Nyx's journal. My ancestor was the daughter of Maeve, child of Queen Una—the last high seelie queen. Maeve had a twin and a little brother. I knew her line hadn't ended, but I'd had no clue who were the descendants. We know little of the seelie courts.
There he is. My cousin, though the thousands of years separating us ensure there's little to no blood in common between us. Yet we're the same. One thing on the surface. Something else entirely underneath.
The Last Stand
Vlari
We ride.
Our horses are nothing like the indolent mares we used to keep in my youth. We were given the fastest horses bred by the kings of seelie. They practically fly. My legs and back hurt, as I don't think I've ever used the kinds of muscles it takes to gallop this fast for hours on end, but I urge the horses farther still, ignoring the pain. I'm not about to delay our arrival.
We take the fastest road to Whitecroft, uncaring about any human spotting us. They'd never catch up with us if they tried. If they dared. Something tells me they won't.
Drusk grins back at me, the wind teasing his messy hair. The beautiful jerk is enjoying this torture—unlike me, he's used to riding faster horses. I have to grin back. I'm glad one of us is having fun at least.
It takes half a day for us to reach Whitecroft, with only one break so the horses could drink and rest. When we first see the dome of light in the distance, my heart leaps in my chest. We made it. Everything is going to be just fine. I let myself believe the three days we spent away have changed nothing. But whatever lie I tell myself dies as we approach.
Far to the east, on the other side of our haven, I see them. Thousands upon thousands of vermin dressed in black and gold, holding a mockery of the flag of Tenebris: the signet of a golden stag on an amethyst backdrop. Only their stag is young and pretty, while ours has longer horns wet with blood.
They're trying to take everything from this land, down to its very soul.
Our enemies are laying siege to Whitecroft, entering through the river. The opening doesn't allow for the full bulk of their army to get in at once, thank heavens, but they're still getting in. I can't see inside the walls, our shield preventing me from distinguishing anything, but I don't doubt that our people are in trouble.
I see the red flames of the Court of Ash mingling with the mortals. We should have guessed they'd shown them the one weakness in our defenses.
"Ash will pay for this. If it's the last thing I do, I'll hunt down every salamander and destroy their history."
Drusk has the gall to laugh at me. "Every one? The children, and the poor soldiers who had a choice between following orders or dying, too?"
I glare at him. He should know that sometimes, I can do without a taste of reality. Wrath is far more palatable. "They may kneel and beg. But the crown of Ash is mine to destroy today."
To that, Drusk finds no objection.
