A Queen This Fierce and Deadly (Kingdom of Lies)

17 PRISCA

Transitioning from the best day of my life to the reality of war was a shock—even knowing it was coming. First, Madinia and Rythos left. Madinia submitted to my hug, and for some reason, her compliance made my stomach twist.

Rythos pressed a kiss to my cheek. “I’ll see you soon, Pris,” he vowed.

There was nothing left to say. And I refused to send my friends away with tears streaming down my cheeks. So, I forced a smile, clutching Lorian’s hand as they said their goodbyes to the others before getting into the waiting carriage.

The carriage would take them to the dock, where they would board a ship south to Quorith.

Please let Verdion listen for once. Please let him ally with us.

Natan approached next. He’d already spoken to Demos, and I’d agreed to talk to him now, with no one else around. While he’d given Lorian one long-suffering look, Natan seemed to accept that he could be trusted.

“What is it that you’re doing?” I asked.

He gave me a faint smile. “We’re infiltrating Regner’s ranks. Our people may be human, but that’s what will make us the most dangerous. We’ll do whatever we can to slow him down.” His eyes filled with a mixture of sorrow and pride.

Reaching out, I took his hand. Looking into his eyes, I acknowledged the sacrifice Natan and his people were making. The sacrifice they would have to live with after this war was over.

The sacrifice that would no doubt haunt them.

It was one thing to kill your own people in defense.

It was another to sleep next to them, to train with them, to eat with them, and then turn on them.

Of all of us, Natan’s role in this war might be the hardest. And yet it was one of the most important.

“Thank you.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I know. Your people. You have to live on this continent. But thank you, Natan.”

His eyes softened as he nodded, and I was once again forced to acknowledge just how much this war had already changed him.

“Goodbye, Prisca.”

“Goodbye, Natan.”

Lorian and Natan nodded at each other. And then he was gone.

Swallowing around the lump in my throat, I held it together until it was time for Demos and Asinia to leave. Demos slapped Tibris on the back as Asinia hugged me. “Be careful,” I told them, swallowing a sob. “Look after each other.”

Asinia glanced at Demos, and some of the tension drained from her face. “You know we will,” she said. “We’re going to find the amulet, Pris. We’ll see you soon.”

And then they, too, were gone, traveling north to the Lyrishade mine.

I stood in Rekja’s courtyard long after they were gone, as still as the statues surrounding me.

My chest was raw, as if I’d been flayed open. Lorian didn’t say a word, just stood by my side, a silent support.

Early this morning, I’d received a note from Conreth’s wife, Emara. It had been impossible to tell if she knew what had happened between Lorian and Conreth, who was still mostly a silent presence whenever we gathered. In her message, Emara had congratulated us on our wedding. And she’d said she had plans for after the war. Plans that involved opening their borders to humans and hybrids. Those who wanted to study, to explore, to live side by side with the fae.

This was what I needed to focus on. The things that would come after the blood and death.

And yet…

When I looked up at Lorian, my eyes hot with unshed tears, he cursed, pulling me into his arms. “I’m sorry, wildcat.”

Sniffing, I nodded. But I had no time to fall apart. We’d already met with Rekja earlier today, and the rest of us would have one final meeting before leaving.

Vicer had already left with one of Rekja’s generals, and they would meet with three thousand hybrid soldiers. I’d questioned whether he was ready after his experience at the hybrid camp, and he’d simply shaken his head at the suggestion he needed time to grieve.

Truthfully, there was little time to give him. So Vicer would bring extra supplies to ensure the hybrids who were readying to travel across the pass would be well-guarded, warm, and fed.

“How are you feeling?” I murmured. “After last night?” Lorian had explained what had happened. His guilt had been a weakness that the dead who’d meant him harm had taken full advantage of. And together with Cavis, he’d found a way to banish them. I was hoping that banishment would last.

“I’m perfect, wildcat. I promise.”

He did seem lighter. No longer was he staring into the distance or slowly turning his head to glower at things we couldn’t see. But it hurt my heart to know Cavis hadn’t found peace.

And I knew it hurt Lorian’s too.

Lorian took my hand, leading me back to our rooms, where Marth and Galon were waiting to discuss our own plan. Surprisingly, Marth took one look at my face and dragged me into his arms for a hug.

When we were all seated at the table in the main room, Marth drummed his fingers absently on the arm of his chair. “How exactly do you think we’re going to get close to Zathrian? Even if Prisca had her power, he has nulled it before.”

Rage cut through me, thick and deadly.

Zathrian nulling my magic had allowed Lorian to die.

“You’re looking a little scary, Prisca.” Galon nudged me. I attempted a smile.

“Simple,” Lorian said. “We’ll use Renit.”

Galon’s eyes flashed. “Conreth gave you Renit?”

“Temporarily.”

Enough was enough. “Exactly what is Renit?”

“Not what,” Marth said. “Who.”

“Renit is a person?”

“Not just any person. Renit has the power of mimicry.”

I waited for him to explain. Marth raised one eyebrow, drawing out the moment. Despite my annoyance, I would take any hint of playfulness from Marth at the moment.

“Renit can make someone appear to be someone else.”

My mind whirled with the implications of that kind of power. “Why didn’t you use his magic to get into the castle?”

“Two reasons,” Lorian said. “First, his power is extremely limited. It lasts an hour at most. And it cannot replicate someone entirely. The most it can do is an imitation that would be just passable—mostly from a distance. I needed a glamour that would allow me to stroll around Regner’s castle. One that I could wear sitting footspans from Regner until I found what I needed.”

“And the other reason?”

“Conreth,” Galon said. “Renit is usually kept in Aranthon, close to Conreth. When he travels, he is disguised and slipped into one of the carriages trailing the king.”

It took me a moment to understand. “In case there’s an assassination attempt,” I said, my words dripping with the disgust that crawled through me. Every time I thought I was close to understanding—if not entirely forgiving—Conreth, I learned some new, unwelcome information about him.

“Yes,” Marth said. “If anyone attempts to kill Conreth, Renit will be right there. Very, very few people know about his power.”

“Which means if there were an assassination attempt, he would make someone else look like Conreth and create confusion.”

“He could make up to four people look like Conreth,” Lorian said. “But the disguise would only hold from a distance. Anyone who had met my brother even once before would immediately know they were looking at an impostor.”

“But it could still save Conreth’s life,” I said. I could imagine just how confused attackers would be if there were suddenly four or five Conreths to attack.

“Yes.”

I understood then, just what Conreth was sacrificing. Renit’s constant presence must have felt like an irreplaceable layer of security. The fae king was incredibly strong—I’d seen exactly how strong when we took down the barrier. But his father had been strong too. And that hadn’t saved him. Or his mother.

I pushed those thoughts away and considered why exactly Lorian had bargained for Renit. And why Lorian was insisting on bringing Kaliera. And the blood began to drain so quickly from my face, I was suddenly dizzy.

“You don’t think we should sneak into Zathrian’s camp at all,” I said, and my hands began to shake.

“No,” Lorian said gently, taking both my hands in his. “We’re going to walk in.”

There were too many soldiers guarding the mine.

They crawled across the landscape like ants working within a colony.

According to Lorian, when his people had first spied on this place months ago, it had had just a few guards. Enough that anyone who happened to travel through the area wouldn’t become suspicious. Wouldn’t ask any deep questions about exactly what could possibly be being guarded with such ferocity.

There were only two possible reasons for Regner to have ordered this much security.

Either it was in direct response to his queen’s little visit, or it was in preparation for our own.

If there was one thing the human king was particularly good at, it was anticipating the actions of his enemies.

Few safe routes were left for us to make our way north. Demos’s contacts had come through, giving us continual updates about the movements of Regner’s regiments and the routes of his scouting parties. Still, we’d had to backtrack multiple times when we’d come too close to groups of soldiers that had inexplicably moved into new positions.

As much as Demos would have liked to create some chaos and carnage, we couldn’t afford for Regner to know we’d slipped past his borders and were moving north.

Thanks to Madinia and Vicer’s campaign to educate the populace, getting across those borders had been a matter of waiting until the right guards were on duty—and sympathetic to our cause. They’d allowed us to stroll into Eprotha with a nod.

Still, some part of me wondered if Regner did know we were here. From the intent look in Demos’s eyes as he watched the soldiers, it was clear he was also considering the possibility of a trap.

We’d spent the morning slowly exploring the area. The terrain was unstable, making it a difficult place to set up a permanent camp. Demos had disappeared to spy, confirming our suspicions when he returned—the guards had chosen a second location with higher ground, allowing the guards who weren’t on shift to monitor the mine from a distance, along with the surroundings.

A sensible plan, although it would make things more difficult for us. If there had only been one or two of us, it likely would have been easier to get into the mine. But we needed all of us inside to find the amulet.

The guards stationed their horses in a corral near the mine’s perimeter for a swift response, but their barracks were set up on sturdier ground. While it was a strategic location, it left them with a predictable routine.

We’d arrived early enough to watch the day shift tie up their horses and walk directly to their posts—swapping with the bleary-eyed night shift.

Gwynara sidled closer. She was short for one of the fae, but from what I’d seen so far, she was well respected. When she’d made a suggestion while we were traveling, the others had usually agreed.

“There are too many of them. Do we still go in?” she whispered. “It could be a trap.”

We watched the soldiers for another few hours. There was no way we could get this many people into the mouth of the mine without alerting those guards. Besides, we couldn’t risk them coming in behind us. We needed them dead.

Between us, we had plenty of power. But we couldn’t risk exhausting ourselves before even entering the mine. Who knew what we would find in there, or how much power it would take to get back out? After what Demos and I had experienced with Prisca and Lorian when we’d searched for the hourglass, neither of us was pleased at the thought of being underground once more.

There was one upside, though. While the labyrinth of caves hiding the hourglass had been filled with fae iron that had gradually drained not just our power, but our strength, Kaliera had insisted that wasn’t the case here. And while I hadn’t been inclined to believe her, Marth had pointed out that Regner wouldn’t have been able to keep the fae creatures alive while they were young if he’d cut off their connection to magic.

At one point, I was so tired of waiting, I began fantasizing about nocking an arrow and taking out the four soldiers I could see.

These soldiers weren’t particularly alert. They strolled across the areas they’d been assigned to guard, their steps shortening as the afternoon dragged on.

I calculated I could hit three of them before the fourth noticed. He would turn to run, but as long as the wind didn’t change suddenly, my last bolt would hit him in the spine.

Demos caught my hand and gave me a look. I’d been stroking my crossbow, I realized. He shook his head at me, but amusement gleamed in his eyes.

Likely, he was fantasizing about his own attack. While he could be patient when necessary, he preferred to act quickly.

Already, I was learning just how much of war involved anticipation. Long hours of boredom on sentry duty or spying or waiting for someone else to do their part first. The boredom was occasionally broken by moments of heart-pounding, palm-slicking terror that dumped adrenaline into my bloodstream and left me shaking afterward.

Sometimes, I wondered if there was something wrong with me—because I was beginning to prefer those moments over these long hours of waiting.

With nothing else to focus on, my mind continually returned to our friends. If Madinia and Rythos couldn’t get the fleet…if Prisca’s cousin was strong enough to kill her…if Telean was discovered at the tiny inn where we’d left her writing messages and organizing escape routes for the hybrids, based on the information Demos’s spies had smuggled to us.

Finally, at Demos’s signal, we melted back through the forest, far enough away that we could have a short, hissed conversation.

“I say we wait until just before the next shift change,” Amalra said, flicking her long, dark hair over her shoulder. “It’ll mean another few hours, but they’ll be tired and slow.”

“We don’t need to wait,” her sister Elysanth muttered. Where Amalra was lithe and dark-haired, Elysanth was curvier and blond. “As long as we make sure we’ve taken out all the sentries before we attack, we can use those hours to strike. By the time the next shift arrives, everyone here will be long dead.”

“The problem is the other guards,” I said. “The ones above us. Demos said they have a relatively good view of the camp. If one of them happens to be looking, they’ll see what’s happening, no matter how quiet we attempt to be.”

“Asinia is right,” Nyrik said. “We need to take care of them at the same time, before they can alert anyone else.”

Demos was quiet, his brow furrowed. My hand itched to stroke over the strong lines of his brow, and I shoved it into the pocket of my tunic.

“We need a distraction,” Demos finally said. “And I know where to find one.”