A War of Three Kings (Dying Lands #2)

16. Aldrin

Chapter 16

Aldrin

A late summer rain splatters down on us with heavy droplets. The downfall increases as our party approaches Fort Blackrock.

It is aptly named. The stony mountain range that seems to encircle the entire North comes to a choke point right here, and this fortress sits on top of it.I have seen it on a map, but the strategic placement is much more impressive in person. No wonder the North dares to defy its king with the resources of the rest of Strathia in his grasp.

A road wide enough to fit four carts side by side passes beneath the fortress, with the yawning mouth of an immense archway gaping over it. The gate is currently being lowered by cranks, cogs and pulleys, all positioned on the north side of the fortress, to keep the South out.

The gate is a massive wall of iron as broad as a man’s shoulders. Shouts and orders ring out. There is no doubt that the road would shatter and a small crater would be left in the ground if the gate were to fall shut without a guide. The mechanism looks like Winter Court technology to me.

As we slowly approach, I scan the rest of the fortress, built from stone blocks mined from the craggy mountains it’s nestled into. Great blocky buildings, ramparts and towers dominate both sides of the pass and climb up the foot of the mountains. Battlements span above the gate, with archers’ stations and catapults.

This is meant to be the place of a last stand. The very edge of the protectorate lands that shield against us fae. Ironic, that they are the ones to have the greatest connection to us and the first to let us back in.

I lean down in the saddle to peer through the now half-open gateway, my mount snickering at me in its beastly way. It still sends a thrill of panic through me. The ground beyond the fort is level and wide enough for an army to stage a siege.

I glance at Keira. Her expression is solemn, and I cannot tell if she is crying or if it is rain washing down her face. I want to pull her into my arms and kiss her hair. To tell her everything she needs to hear to bring back that smile. But her father and his stallion are between us. Edmund is constantly between us.

I grind my teeth. Each time I get a few stolen moments with her, he or Naomi materialize out of nowhere. I haven’t so much as tasted Keira’s lips again, much less enacted all the other desires that burn deep within me.

The clop of horses’ hooves echoes off rock walls as the road cuts through a field set up with soldiers’ tents and cooking fires. The green-and-bronze banners and uniforms of the Appleshield Protector Guard are all around us in this camp, alongside the smaller force of Lord Tomas’ warriors in green and gold.

At least the bastard came through on his promise to Keira. I will have to restrain myself from wrapping my hands around his pudgy little neck and choking the life out of him.

Stable boys brave the summer rain and rush over to take our horses. Our group disbands and the guards are sent to Appleshield’s camp. Edmund gives me a long look, as though he is deciding what to do with me, then he flicks his head toward the fortress.

We ascend a flight of steps into a crude hall teeming with activity.

Edmund grabs the tunic of a passing soldier and pulls him close. “Which lords and countesses are in residence?”

“M-my Lord Protector, only Lord Tomas has arrived so far,” the man stammers.

“Where is the Captain of the Guard?” Caitlin chews out. “Find Gwyneth and bring her to us immediately.”

Boots click on stone pavers behind us. “I am here.” Gwyneth materializes from a side corridor and stops multiple paces back. Her eyes glance from me to Silvan, then darken before sliding to Edmund. “I was on the ramparts and saw you ride in.”

“I want a full status report,” Edmund commands. “Where are the other armies?”

“The Countess Lynna and her force were right behind you. They will arrive any moment. Their ranks could be seen darkening the horizon from the highest rampart. Lord Bradford has sent word he will arrive by nightfall, and Lord Adalwolf requires a few more days to muster his forces and march here.”

Edmund nods.

I take a step toward the Captain of the Guard. “Where are my people?”

She gives me a scathing look, then dismisses me like I am a bug under her boot.

I stalk right up to the woman until I am towering over her. “I demand to be answered,” I growl in a low voice. “Have you brought them here, or tossed them back into a prison cell?”

The color drains from her face, but she narrows her eyes anyway. “Oh, they are here, and a thorn in my side. Forced us to give them a room in the fortress.”

“And why should they demand any less?” I bite out. The captain’s mouth works, but no words come out. She fears me. It means she has some intelligence.

“Gwyneth, is there any sign of Finan yet?” Keira asks, her voice hitching on his name, saving the damned captain from my questions.

“No.” Gwyneth’s dark eyes home in on Keira, and I lean against the masonry, not letting the woman out of my sight. “Our spies have gone silent. I wouldn’t put it past Lord Desmond to rid himself of anyone who might have ties with the North. The mad king is a fool to allow us to take this fortress.”

“That is something we can agree on.” I clench and unclench my fists.

“What would you know of these lands, fae ?” Gwyneth hisses at me, her confidence suddenly back.

“Gwyneth,” Caitlin snaps, but her partner glares at me.

“I have fought in wars since before you were born,” I tell her. A piece of the stone archway crumbles to dust in my bare hand when my grip turns to an iron vise. “What do you know of battles compared to me?” My tone carries the promise of death.

On cue, Gwyneth backs away from me, her hands shaking. Her bravado is a performance, to prove her might to the other humans, but I am fucking tired of being patient with these people.

“There is another splendid development she failed to mention.” A male voice, filled with humor. “Your beloved brother Diarmuid has returned from the wilds and brought a small host of druids with him to help in the war effort.”

I turn to a young man who looks a similar age to Caitlin, tall and wiry, with messy brown hair to his shoulders and hazel eyes that smile. He wears the brown robes of a druid, but his are of fine-quality fabric and tailored to fit like a wrap-around surcoat. Keira runs to him and he wraps her in an embrace, lifting her off the ground.

Caitlin turns to me. “This is my twin, Diarmuid. I got all the brains.” She rolls her eyes, but he pulls her into the hug with Keira.

“And I got all the charisma,” Diarmuid replies. He finally releases his sisters and holds out an arm to me. I take it and we shake. “You must be Aldrin. We are going to be great friends, I just know it. I spent far too many hours searching the dungeons for you for it to be otherwise.”

“Great friends, you say?” I scratch at the stubble on my face. Gods, at this rate, I’d befriend anyone who doesn’t try to kill me. “This is Silvan, the Captain of the Royal Guard.” The two men clasp arms.

“What good are druids going to be in a war effort?” Caitlin asks. “They don’t fight.”

“I said the same thing,” Gwyneth mumbles.

“We druids are fantastic healers! And we can help set up defensive barriers,” Diarmuid counters.

Edmund cuts through the chatter. “I want a war meeting tonight when Lord Bradford arrives. Gwyneth, you will update Caitlin, Keira and me while you take us on a strategic tour of this fortress.” He pauses to take stock of me. “Aldrin, take the tour now or when the other lords arrive. Your choice, if you want to check on your people first.”

I give both Edmund and Gwyneth a hard stare. “I want to hear from their mouths how they have fared.”

Keira takes a few steps toward me, her face lighting up at the mention of my people, but her father grabs her by the wrist and pulls her back to him. “Not you.” Edmund puts a hand on her back and pushes her toward a staircase. Caitlin and Gwyneth follow, but lag behind, their voices trailing back to me as they climb the steps.

“Is this how you greet your life partner?” Caitlin says. “With hardly an acknowledgment?”

“Is it not how you said goodbye?” Gwyneth replies. “With a refusal to discuss our future and no answers to my questions about our baby?”

I watch them leave, still dripping water on the stone floor.

“It’s about bloody time you joined us.” Drake steps into the room, arms held wide.

“Let me guess, you were watching us approach from the ramparts?” I say as I pull him into an embrace.

“Yeah. Someone needs to give that ass Gwyneth a hard time.” The smile widens on his bronzed face, causing the silvery branches of his tree tattoo to crease.

“No one needs to give her a hard time. You should do the opposite and try to win all the humans over.” Klara stalks after him, looking me up and down. “You look like shit. Like you were dragged behind one of their horses.”

I can’t help smirking and pulling her into a side hug.

“Fuck diplomacy,” Drake rants. “I’ve shown the humans my worth, and most choose to see it. I don’t need to beg people who will never change. Besides, I need some entertainment in his dreary realm.”

“That is why we left you behind, Drake. Can’t have you running your mouth to the lords and countesses.” Silvan shoots him a dark look. “Where can we get some of that pitiful stuff they call food in this realm?”

I smile at them like a fool. “Food and wine. I want updates while we eat.”

“Where’s Keira?” Klara asks. “Should we wait for her?”

I feel the blood drain from my face. “Her father is still doing his best to keep us apart.”

Klara leads us to a large military dorm room, with enough beds for my people and myself. Part of me hoped for a room of my own. To be locked in it with Keira for hours at a time, doing everything to her that my mind can think up. My imagination is vast.

I sit on the edge of a bed, picking from a platter of cold sliced beef and drinking tart wine.

“We’ve done good work here, Aldrin,” Klara says, flicking her purple braids over her shoulder. “Most of the Appleshield Guard don’t see us as monsters anymore, and their magical ability has greatly improved. That block of theirs—it fades when they come to terms with their fae blood and stop hiding. Those who are more accepting of us can better access their true power. Passionate emotion helps to cut through it as well.”

“Thank you. All of you, for standing by me in this. It hasn’t been easy.” My eyes pass over each of my people, from Silvan’s hardly audible grumble to Drake’s amused grin. Hawthorne shrugs awkwardly and Zinnia tips her head to the side.

“We need information on that advancing army. Drake. Zinnia.” I look from one to the other. “Do you think you could cast out your senses for me? Can you do it in this realm?”

“The humans will not believe whatever we offer them.” Drake tosses an olive into his mouth, then cringes as he bites down on the salty thing.

“I’ll make them believe it,” I say. “We have a whole horde of Mothers of Magic backing us up now. At least fifty of them arrived at the back of Edmund’s war party.”

Zinnia pins me with a hard stare that is almost snakelike, with her huge yellow eyes and her head tipped to the side. “It will drain us completely. There is little magic in the animals of this place.”

“If intel is what you need, intel is what we will get you,” Drake says cheerfully. “As long as you don’t have a problem with us skipping into the senses of the humans.”

I suck in a sharp breath. “You need to resort to that for it to work?”

“Normally I can cast out my consciousness and dip into the eyes and ears of the simplest of the low fae to collect information. Beasts like Cú Sídhe or spriggan or some lesser goblins. High fae and nymphs have natural barriers. Humans with very little fae in them seem to be good enough vessels if I don’t linger. I can hop from body to body in an army to have a look around, but I won’t be able to penetrate a meeting for long enough to spy on a conversation. Shame. There are so many creatures in our realm that allow me to be a fly on the wall for hours, literally. My power isn’t accustomed to this place.”

“We will delve into enemy territory. We’ve never had qualms about spying on an enemy.” Zinnia says the words slowly.

“How long will it take you?” I ask.

“It depends on how far and wide we need to search for this army, and how many vessels are available for us to hop across to get there,” Drake replies. “It could take an hour, or it could take all night.”

A knock sounds at the door, and we all turn to it. Silvan gets up and cracks it open an inch, a hand on the dagger at his waist. Through the gap, curls of fiery red hair and a single long-lashed eye are visible.

“Silvan?” Keira’s voice rings out. He opens the door fully and flicks his head for her to enter. Her gaze meets mine. “Lord Adalwolf has arrived. We are meeting in the war room.”

“Can’t you stay for a few minutes, Keira?” Drake calls over my shoulder. “We have hardly seen you since we arrived in this gods-forsaken realm.”

“Sure, she’ll stay for a sleepover, and we’ll all braid each other’s hair instead of letting her go to a war council,” Klara mutters.

“Too bad I don’t have any hair,” Drake laughs.

Keira’s wide eyes dart between the two of them. I wonder if she understands their dry humor or if she thinks they argue all the time.“Tomorrow,” she promises. “I can’t linger. I’m not meant to be here.” Drake raises his eyebrows, and she lets out a nervous laugh. “Caitlin was supposed to summon Aldrin.”

I stand from the bed and glance at Drake over my shoulder. “Do what you must.”

Both Drake and Zinnia pull pillows onto the ground and seat themselves into meditative poses, holding hands, their backs against the wall. Klara pulls out incense sticks and lights them while Silvan hums a low, drawn-out melody that is purely masculine.

I close the door before they begin their trance. It would unnerve any human to see the air turn into smoky tendrils around them as they reach out with their consciousnesses.

Hawthorne slips out of the door behind us and leans casually against the wall beside it. He will take the first watch. While Drake and Zinnia are in their trance, they are incredibly vulnerable to attack. It takes a long time for them to find their way back to their own bodies, and afterward, they can be weak as babies.

“What are they up to?” Keira whispers to me. “Summoning a demon?” She laughs.

We round a corner in the corridor, then take a flight of stairs before I answer. “Yeah. Something like that.”

She gives me a hard look. “Seriously?”

“Okay, we said no secrets between us, right?” I say, opening a door for her and gesturing her through. “But that means you need to trust my judgments.”

Keira cocks an eyebrow at me, and so I tell her exactly what Drake and Zinnia are up to in whispered snatches, halting each time a soldier or priestess crosses paths with us.

“It’s not exactly ethical, but…” She trails off.

“But spying never is, and we need that information,” I say.

“Don’t tell any humans how you get it,” she whispers. “Tell them Drake speaks with crows or something like that.”

I give her a half-smile, amused by the indignant outrage widening her eyes and flushing her cheeks, despite how she encourages me to do it anyway.

We pass an alcove that has a deep-set door within it, barred and locked, and a large banner askew on the wall, hanging over it. On the spur of the moment, I pull Keira in and push her back against the door, dragging the banner over the alcove with an air wield. It barely hides us.

Keira’s breath snags and her lips part, but I don’t give her a chance to recover before I catch her in a bruising kiss. Her hands fly into my hair as my tongue slips into her mouth, caressing against hers in frenzied movements like a wild beast.

She is all I can smell, the rose-oil scent of her hair that tells me she has had time to bathe. She is all I want to taste. Every part of her. This woman is the only thing that is ever on my mind.

I drag her lower lip between my teeth while her chest rises and falls with panted gasps. I can’t seem to get enough of her, even as our lips glide across each other.

Her soft body melts under my touch as I run my hands over her large, soft breasts, enjoying her shudders as I brush my fingers over her nipples in teasing circles. I kiss my way down her neck, her collarbone, to the tops of her breasts, while my hands trace the sweet curves of her hips and perfectly rounded ass.

I bunch up the white fabric of her skirts in one hand, desperate to get beneath them, while I lick my way down her ample cleavage that always seems to be on display.

Her sweet voice breaks the moment. “Aldrin. The war meeting.”

I glance up at her. “Do we have to go?”

Her words catch in her throat as I pull down the neckline of her dress with a single finger and dart my tongue across her nipple. She has to try multiple times before she can speak coherently. “You know we do.”

It is an effort to pull myself away and stand to my full height.

I place my hands on either side of her shoulders, caging her, and stare into her eyes. “After the meeting, you are mine. I don’t care how, but we are going to escape any chaperones assigned to you. You’re not a child.”

We leave the alcove—not so discreetly, but there is no one around in this back corridor. This place is like a maze, and we take many turns before arriving at a set of heavy doors with the symbol of a sword crossed with an ax engraved into each. Two guards open the doors as we approach and the voices within pause immediately.

Around a table with a map sprawled out across it sit the lords and countess, as well as Keira’s father, grandmother and sister. There are stone tokens placed across the depiction of the kingdom of Strathia, clearly marking players in the impending war.

Edmund leans over the table, his finger still pointing at a location as he turns to us. “Keira. Aldrin. Take a seat, please.” His words are clipped.

Keira pulls out a chair next to Caitlin and gestures for me to take the one beside it, putting me between her and Naomi. I don’t know how close I want to get to the old spider, lest she try to poison me again.

“Sit, Aldrin,” the High Priestess huffs, only loud enough for me to hear. “Do not forget, the fae have the backing of the Mothers of Magic, and we are monitoring them very closely.”

I give her a sidelong glance as I sit. It’s not exactly a glowing recommendation.

“Do we really want the fae to be a part of these talks? Are we not handing over strategic information about our kingdom to him?” Lord Tomas glances to Lord Bradford and Lord Adalwolf for support. A wave of frustration rolls over me, followed by deep fatigue.

“ The fae has a name,” Edmund growls. “Aldrin is an ally and of noble blood. You will treat him as such.”

I pin the little lord with a dark look. “What happened to the commoners of your estate who attacked your Lord Protector’s camp, Tomas? Do you know how close they came to putting a bolt through Keira? I took an arrow for her that night. What have you done to prove your loyalty?”

Everyone in the room who wasn’t there stares at him with open horror.

“Your people did what ?” Countess Lynna slams her hands down on the table, looking ready to tear his throat out with her teeth.

Tomas raises his hands in the air. “Already executed. They did it without my knowledge, you see. But one can’t blame them for seeing fae in their territory and trying to put them down. It is the law, after all.”

Part of me—a huge fucking part of me—wants to pick the little lord up by the throat and show him just how weak and pathetic he is, but that won’t win the other humans to my side.

“You’re worried about some fucking laws right now, are you, Tomas?” I growl. “Because I have bad news for you, considering it is probably treason for you to be sitting here in this meeting, planning a rebellion.”

“I won’t hear any more of your slander, Lord Tomas.” Keira points a finger at him, rage flashing in her eyes. “There are true enemies marching on our doorstep, and all you want to do is cut down our allies.”

The little lord opens his mouth to speak, but Lord Bradford cuts him off. “Enough venom, Tomas. In my lands, old stories of our people living in peace with the fae, before the war, have been passed down the generations. I have the preserved diary of an ancestor who lived during those times. This trade Lord Aldrin wants to bring to our people is how my family made their wealth. Forgive me if I won’t murder the man over old prejudices.”

Lord Tomas’ face turns the most satisfying shade of purple and he sits heavily in his chair. “I didn’t know he was a fae lord,” he says, like it matters. I don’t correct them on my true identity. It would make things far too complicated.

Beside me, Keira looks like she is going to combust from the coiled-up tension in her shoulders. “Aldrin fought many wars for the fae Spring Court. He has a unique perspective and vast experience, and only he can tell us what his fae forces will bring to the war.”

All those eyes fall on me. Some scrutinizing, others fearful. I’m too damned sober to deal with this. I need something to put a dampener on my building rage. I spot a jug of wine and goblets on a side table in the room’s corner. With a flick of my wrist, an air wield lifts the jug, pours wine into two cups and brings them to me on a phantom breeze, placing one in front of Keira.

“Ha! Fascinating,” Lord Bradford exclaims, then turns to the little pudgy lord. “Tomas, how could you not want this sort of power on our side on the battlefield?”

“Because I don’t know how long it will remain on our side ,” he mutters, and I pin him with a dark look.I swear his lips start to wobble.

“As I was saying,” Edmund grinds out, “we must plan a retreat from Fort Blackrock in case our stand doesn’t go our way. I suggest we fall back to Lord Adalwolf’s Windkeep Stronghold.”

The lord in question is a bear of a man, even by my standards, and his entire bald forehead furrows as he frowns profusely. “I don’t like the idea of drawing Lord Desmond and the mad king’s army to my lands, but…” Lord Adalwolf’s voice trails off as his fingers tap the table repetitively.

I glance at the map beneath Edmund’s fingers. Windkeep Stronghold is the next defensive point north of our current location. All around it are small villages, open grasslands and bogs. The perfect terrain to harass an army from multiple directions, picking them off bit by bit if they try to bypass the fortress.

“But if we don’t fall back to Windkeep Stronghold, if we pass it, then Lord Desmond will capture it,” Caitlin cuts in. “His army will pillage anything of worth. They will rape and kill innocents as they please. When they are done, they will burn it to the ground. You know he has done this before.”

The color drains from Lord Adalwolf’s face, but Caitlin doesn’t relent.

“Even if you change your mind, turn your back on this war and lock yourself in your fortress, Lord Desmond will come to the North anyway. He will start by taking my sister, and end by beating the entire North into submission.”

The room falls deadly quiet at those words. I glance at Keira from the corner of my eye. Her chin is held high and her shoulders are straight, but her foot taps incessantly under the table. I know she blames herself.

“I have fought against a mad king before,” I say, drawing all eyes to myself instead of Keira. “From my experience, the excuse they give for going to war never really matters, because war is inevitable with a king like that. Whether it is over land they believe they have a right to, imagined treachery, an insult or a woman, they always find a reason to have a royal tantrum or ten. That is exactly what this is.”

Edmund gives me a long, calculating look. “Tell us, Aldrin, of the fae forces you can bring to this war and what their abilities are.”

I lean back in my chair. “I have ten members in my personal guard who have already pledged to fight in this war. We predominantly have the power of earth creation. If there is life in a thing, we can grow it, sculpt it and bend it to our will. We can form rips in the ground by tapping into the organic matter trapped there, force rockfalls and earthquakes at a low scale. Not even I could bring these mountains down on an invading army, but I could catapult boulders one at a time into their masses. I have two people who can wear wards of invisibility. We have abilities with water and can flood a river. My small band can only do so much, but I can pledge more fae if you allow them to cross into this realm.”

Hushed whispers erupt in the room.

“More fae?” Lord Tomas looks like he will faint.

“How many more?” Countess Lynna raises her voice over the rest. “Will they make the same bargain as you?”

“What incentive do all these fae have to fight in our war?” Lord Adalwolf says. “You say there are no strings attached, but nothing is for free.”

Edmund half stands, raising his hands. “Okay. Okay. Give the man a chance to speak.”

“Oh, there is definitely something in this for us fae of the Spring Court.” I smile at each of them. “We want to open trade talks, and we cannot do that without North Strathia strong and free. See this as a gift of friendship, before the negotiations begin. What better way to get to know each other?”Silence meets my words, so I continue. “In answer to your question, Countess Lynna, my brother-in-law, Lord Cyprien, can arrive with thirty to fifty more highly trained fae soldiers. He will make the bargain.”

Someone lets out a long, low whistle, and the High Priestess bristles beside me, but says nothing.

“I became very well acquainted with Lord Cyprien during my pilgrimage,” Caitlin chimes in, “and I couldn’t recommend his character and expertise as a commander more highly.”

“It is my recommendation that we take Aldrin up on his offer.” Edmund glares at each of the lords and the countess. “We desperately need whatever advantages we can grasp.”

The entire room holds its breath for a few heartbeats before pure chaos breaks out.

Everyone yells over the top of each other. Some have arguments across the table, pointing and spitting at each other. Lord Tomas stands, and his mouth works like that of a fish, but I cannot make out the poison that pours from it. The Countess Lynna has her head tipped toward her occasional lover’s, Lord Bradford nodding as she speaks.

I lean back in my seat, fold my arms over my chest and smile at the mayhem playing out before me. I will get my way, I’m sure of it. The gods know I need Cyprien at my side. Maybe it is selfish of me to drag him into this mess too, but he’ll answer the call to war eagerly. He needs a battle to shed some of the fury darkening his soul.

“Okay! Okay! We need more time to process the idea of recruiting more fae,” Edmund yells over the council, and they all fall quiet. “Let’s move on to the next topic. Mother, if you could give us an update on the priestesses’ work?”

The old spider doesn’t miss a beat. “I have sent priestesses to every corner of the kingdom, large cities and small towns alike. We travel far and fast through the portals that connect our sanctuaries. The word is being spread that King Finan plans to kidnap a Mother of Magic to be his possession. That he is marching his army to tear her out of a priestesses’ temple. We have preached to them that this is an assault on all Mothers of Magic. A sacrilege. The common people rely on us for healing more than anyone.”

Naomi runs her fingertips rapidly across the tabletop, her long nails clacking rhythmically.

“There have been large protests in every city, especially the capital. Southern vigilantes have formed bands that attack the king’s supply trains, slowing him. While they may not stop the king, it will make the other noble houses wary of joining him.”

They speak of foreign nobility and lands. Of who may side with Finan and who may ignore the call. It seems like the ruling power of this kingdom is more of a negotiation than an iron fist.

I can’t help watching Keira as the meeting progresses. Her features are pulled tight and her teeth grind audibly. She is blaming herself again for that bastard’s choices.

I will have to tear those thoughts out of her. I will worship her until she knows her worth again. Until she forgets her own name.