21. Keira
Chapter 21
Keira
M y heart clenches painfully as I watch the enemy amass beyond the range of our catapults and archers. Rows upon rows of footmen line up from the steep foot of one mountain to the other, slotting their tall shields together to create a wall.
Behind them, great teams pull forth huge catapults on wheels, constructed of levers, cogs and counterweights, all dwarfing the people.
I count ten of the monstrosities.
My blood turns to ice as they position the catapults right behind the shield wall. The team places stones into the counterweight of one machine, loads the bucket with a stone the size of a large melon and cranks the wrench. There is a pause, then they fire.
Everyone on the battlements seems to freeze and watch that missile as it arcs across the brilliant blue morning sky. Even my father’s shouted orders fall silent. I clutch the edge of the battlement as I wait for it to hit. It is all I can do to not duck and hide.
A single stone cannot break the wards of hardened air protecting the ramparts. I know this, but I can’t drag my eyes away. The missile begins to fall, and it is immediately clear it won’t reach the wall of Fort Blackrock. I let out a long breath as it slams into the huge furrow Aldrin created in the battlefield. The void is full of sharpened stakes, and a couple snap under the impact.
I turn to Aldrin, whose eyes are focused on the ravine as he flicks his wrist and slowly repairs the damage to the roots.
The boom of hundreds of shields and footsteps moving in unison jolts through me, alongside the rattle and screech as they move the catapults closer. They have been testing them and perfecting their position all morning.
“Aldrin, I’m terrified,” I admit.
“Anyone would be stupid not to be,” he says, putting a hand on my shoulder. “Sometimes, it’s the wait before the battle that is the scariest part.”
Before I can answer, heavy footsteps approach. We turn to see Cyprien stalking toward us. His thick eyebrows are slanted downward in a dark frown and his sharp features are drawn with severity. The long braids and ropes of his black hair swish with his agitated steps.
His gaze narrows on me. “Why am I just hearing now that your father tortured my king, my brother , and now we are allies with him? That it is all forgotten?”
I recoil at the accusation in his harsh tone. “Cyprien, I?—”
“You were supposed to protect them from your people!” He throws out an arm to indicate first Aldrin, then Hawthorne behind him.
I lose my temper. All my fear and rage at my current circumstances crashes down on me at once. “I tried to protect them! I am one woman against the rest of my realm!” My hair explodes into dancing whipcords of fire, and the look of pure shock on Cyprien’s face is enough to tell me my ears have transformed into the long peaks of a fae.
Aldrin lets go of me as though burned, and guilt stabs through me. I immediately clamp down on my passion and force that glamour back into place. It would be incredibly dangerous if this army thought I was anything other than a human priestess with some fae blood. If they saw my primal form without glamour, they would run in the opposite direction, screaming for their lives instead of trying to save mine.
Cyprien closes the distance between us and gives me a searching, scathing look. “Did I just see pointed ears and a primal form? What are you, Keira? What other secrets are you hiding?”
“I am human,” I hiss back.
He cocks an eyebrow at me. “I don’t think I believe that.”
“Easy, Cyprien,” Aldrin says. “I will explain later. When there are fewer humans around. We need to ally with them, whether we like it or not.”
Cyprien whirls on Aldrin. “You expect me to work with this Lord Protector after the way he has treated you and not destroy him like he deserves?”
Aldrin shrugs, but I see the pain that flashes across his face. He has not forgotten. “Yes, I do. The old spider of a High Priestess as well.”
“Old spider?” I whirl on Aldrin. “That is my grandmother.” I don’t know what hurts more, the insult to someone I love or the fact that it’s justified.
“Who tortured him and all our people!” Cyprien roars.
“Do you think I don’t know that?” I yell back. “Do you think I didn’t try everything I could for them?”I shake with the raw emotion pouring out of me.
“We need them, Cyprien.” Every muscle in Aldrin’s body is coiled tight and his lips are twisted downward. “And not just so Keira can walk her realm freely. If we open the portals between worlds, what will stop this mad king from bringing an army of humans into our court for his perceived retribution? He definitely won’t allow the trade or migration we need to fix the slow death of our realm. Think of the bigger picture.”
Cyprien grabs Aldrin by the shoulders and shakes him twice. “They tortured you, Aldrin.” His voice breaks. “And I wasn’t here for you. I had no idea you needed me.”
My father strides over to us and glares at Cyprien, meeting him eye to eye. “Are we going to have a problem here?” he growls, pushing me behind him and showing a side of him I only see with his soldiers. “Are you in or are you out? Because in case you haven’t noticed, we have an army on our doorstep and cannot have division here on the battlements.”
“You could start with an apology to Aldrin, Father,” I grind out.
My father and Cyprien drag their burning eyes away from each other.
“An apology will do precious little to change what he has done,” Cyprien says, and I turn a dark look on him.
My father considers Aldrin for a long moment, then sighs. “I am sorry for the pain and suffering I inflicted on you and your people—that I did not see you for the man you are. I do not regret my actions, or the fact that I would dirty my hands to protect this realm and any woman in it from a fae kidnapping or invasion. For my daughter, there is no atrocity I won’t stoop to.”He turns the full intensity of his withering gaze on me, but my spine only straightens, and I raise my chin. “One day, Keira, I hope you have a willful daughter, and then you will understand the lengths to which you will go to protect her.”
My father turns on his heel and walks away, but stops to look over his shoulder at Aldrin.
“Don’t expect an apology from my mother, because you won’t get it. She has always fought viciously and unapologetically for her family.”
Cyprien suddenly pulls Aldrin toward him and crushes him in another fierce embrace. Aldrin presses his forehead against Cyprien’s, and I look away from the pure emotion on their faces. I don’t know how these two men were estranged for years.
My eyes flick to Hawthorne, who stands multiple paces away, out of the line of fire. He grimaces under my examination, and mouths the word sorry at me, his shoulders hunched in. He must have been the one to let slip to Cyprien the way they were treated here.
“Cyprien, tell me the truth of it.” Aldrin’s voice pulls my attention back to him. “How bad is it back home? Titania’s reign. The corruption that is turning the edges of our land to ash and black voids. Are the low fae dying in larger numbers?”
Cyprien runs a hand over his face to wipe away the sheen of sweat that has formed there. “The High Chancellor has become even more ruthless now she believes you are as good as dead. Somehow, she knows you are in this realm and is convinced you cannot return without being slaughtered by the Assassins of Belladonna. She is so confident that you will not be returning that she has told the people you have been killed at their hand. Of course, she blames it on the Winter King.”
I shudder at the very thought, gripping Aldrin’s arm tightly. His scowl deepens, and his muscles tense under my fingers as he says, “She is a fool. The people will see her for the liar she is the moment I return to reclaim my throne. What of the corruption of the lands itself?”
Cyprien lets out a long breath. “The sight you showed me at the Dividing Cliffs at the border with Winter, near the Frozen River Fortress, hasn’t worsened. There are still huge rifts in the ground, filled with black voids where the matter of the realm has collapsed completely. The low fae still suffer the rot, but it hasn’t worsened. Titania has made it difficult for me to travel the realm to inspect other sites, but I suspect it will be the same. We still have time.”
A loud crack drags me back to the sight of the enemy just beyond the parapet.
The battlements tremble beneath my feet and a fine dust of mortar trickles out from the wall. I check that there are no more catapults about to fire, then glance down over the edge of the fortification. A large stone sits at the base of the fort, a pale dust imprint marking where it hit low on the wall.
A sinking feeling consumes me as I notice their catapults are nowhere near our missile range. Somehow their technology outranks ours. I glance at the wall of shields and the banners behind them, making out the crown on a purple background of the king’s army and the black viper on a white background of Lord Desmond’s forces.
There is one I do not recognize: a golden flame on a red backdrop. It tickles something in my memory, but I can’t place it. One thing I know for certain is that that banner does not belong to the houses of Strathia. Lord Desmond has commissioned mercenaries from another kingdom of this realm.
Both Aldrin and Cyprien join me, scrutinizing the view.
“Why hasn’t their army attacked yet?” I ask.
Aldrin points a long finger toward the left of their force. “They are building siege engines. These catapults are to prevent us from going on the offensive before they are ready. It will be days before they attack.”
My gaze follows the line of his finger, and suddenly my stomach bottoms out. I pull a spyglass out of the deep pockets of my skirts and take a closer look with trembling hands.
They have already erected the skeleton of a huge siege tower, tall enough to reach the lowest battlements. It sits on two rows of enormous wheels, a dozen in total, with ladders reaching into its rear.
I have read countless texts on warfare, and enough about siege engines to know the entire structure will be heavily shielded on three sides, protecting the people inside from arrows, with a long drawbridge at its top. They will bring the structure as close to the furrow as they can, then drop the bridge onto our battlements.It will function as a staircase up our wall, and enemy soldiers will stream out of it when it is in place.
My blood runs cold, but I cannot drag my eyes away.
There are other construction works around the siege tower—ladders to scale our walls and great shields that fifty soldiers could carry overhead while running toward the fortress. They erect bridges to span the furrow.
I suck in my breath and snatch the spyglass away. “Are we just going to sit here and wait for them to build weapons to use against us?”
Aldrin shrugs. “There’s nothing we can do about what is behind enemy lines.”
I take in the scene again, and an idea comes to me. I catch my father’s eye and beckon him over.
“Those catapults.” I point to the wooden monstrosities that are constantly in motion, flicking stone after stone with teams of engineers scurrying around them. “I want to destroy them. Tonight, under the cover of darkness.”
A wicked grin appears on his face.
The time disappears with preparations and planning, then I find myself mounted on a warhorse, waiting for the iron gate to be slowly reeled upward, inch by painful inch. The cogs of the great pulley system squeal in protest and the chains creak.
My heart pounds at the racket.
It seems loud enough to wake the enemy, but their catapults still fire with a rhythmic grind, high-pitched soar and crack. Each time a stone hits the wall of Fort Blackrock, my horse prances nervously. I don’t know how the other soldiers around me seem so calm.
We are arranged in four parties, only mine comprised of humans on horseback. The rest are fae, their light armor and swords glimmering in the moonlight—not that they will use either in this scurry.
“Are you sure you are up to this, Keira?” My father glances sideways at me, his huge stallion raising him even higher above me. “There is no shame in staying in the fort. You are no soldier.”
“I am now,” I say. “This is my fight.”
“This is your fight.” He agrees.
The gate cranks a quarter of the way open, up to the height of my horse, and through it, trickles of falling stones and mortar are visible each time a missile strikes the wall and shakes the entire thing.
“Listen up, everyone!” Caitlin’s voice booms from the battlements above us. My eyes fly to her. She has a hand on her small, protruding belly and Diarmuid at her side. “Your job is to focus on bringing down those catapults, and that alone. We will be watching the enemy and will call a retreat as soon as they put together a force to harry you. Tonight’s mission is not to kill the enemy. It is not to fight any forces they send at you. It is to destroy even one of those catapults and damage their morale.”
A cheer rises from the crowd. My eyes slide to the party to my left, with Aldrin at its head. He gives me a curt nod, and those amber eyes remain trained on me. There is a vulnerability within them—fear of having me on the battlefield—but he would never hold me back. There is pride shining within them, too.
My heart lurches at the sight of the imposing figure he cuts: tall, his broad shoulders accentuated by the long, triangular spikes at the tips of his segmented shoulder guards. His bronzed chest plate gleams under the stars, rippled with muscles molded into it that reflect the sculptured body beneath.
It is enough to make my armor—a boiled leather corset sewn with metal disks, and a skirt of leather straps—seem basic and plain.
Aldrin gives me a half-smile, then tips his head toward the opening gate. I swing around and find it almost halfway up. My heart skips a beat at the enemy army visible beyond, the long arms of their catapults moving in the dimness like dancing spiders, and the hint of a shield wall in front of them.
“Everyone, you know your places!” my father roars. “Wait for my command.” He holds a fist in the air and turns to Aldrin. “Grow the bridge.”
Aldrin walks out in front of our force and raises both his arms, muscles rippling with the motion. The rustling of moving roots and groaning of wood are the first indications of his magic, before huge spears whip out of the gash and knit together. Dozens of tentacles rapidly interweave until a platform grows across the void, spanning it at a width enough for five riders abreast.
“Charge!” my father booms.
The fae race out of the fortress at speeds I can hardly track in the gloom. I kick my steed and lower my body as we humans gallop out behind them, led by my father.
The gate shudders and creaks as I race beneath it. A rain of pebbles and dust falls upon me as stones hit the wall. The thunderous sound rings in my ears and I inhale a lungful of gritty, bitter dust. I blink rapidly to get it out of my eyes. I pray to the gods that one doesn’t strike above my head and crash down on me.
My horse’s hooves hit the bridge, and to Aldrin’s credit, it doesn’t move or shake. I make the mistake of glancing down at the drop below. Hundreds of wooden spikes reach up toward me and a muddy sludge coats its bottom.I don’t have time to fear falling into its depths.
The surface of the shield wall ahead ripples in waves as the soldiers in it register our charge. They arrange themselves to stand taller.
I focus all my attention on my father, his red mane of hair flowing behind him and froth flying from his stallion’s mouth as they race across the fields at breakneck speed. I push my horse harder, staying on his heels, with the Appleshield Guards Brandan, Liam and Aiden flanking me.
“Shields!” my father bellows.
I weave threads of hardened air to form a protective dome around us, one that defends against arrows fired at us, but allows our projectiles to pass through. I grit my teeth with the effort of holding onto it and forcing the shield to follow us. The men flanking me pour their raw magic into my weave, in the way we practiced for half the day, and the strain within me eases.
We fly across the night, closing the distance between ourselves and our enemy. Horns blast within their midst and a high-pitched sound wails overhead as sporadic arrows are let loose from beyond the shield wall.
The soldiers shift again, and the metal tips of spears poke out of the wall, glinting in the moonlight. I want to laugh at the ridiculousness of it, like we would send such a small number of soldiers to clash against that force.
A thrill pounds through me, making me feel alive and empowered. We are so close to the wall of the enemy that I can see the dints in each shield and the sneers on stubbled faces.
My father raises his hands before him, gripping his moving stallion with his thighs alone, and his entire arms glow with red light as he forms a fire crystal within his hands, large enough to fill both palms.
Jolts of fear cut into me—there are so many ways this could go wrong. He takes that fiery ball and tosses it into the air with an overarm throw, then collects its trajectory in a gale of air, blasting it with force toward his chosen catapult behind the enemy line.
Right as we reach the throwing range of the shield wall’s spears, my father banks hard to the left and we all follow him in a crazed dash away from the enemy. Behind us, the thunder of an explosion rumbles through the air, and hot waves race out in its wake.
I dare a glance back at the catapult. The arm has snapped and fire licks at the structure, but it is mostly intact. People run toward it and try to put out the flames with their cloaks.
Our party banks hard again and we charge back toward our enemy.This dance of loops makes us an incredibly difficult target for their archers.As we gallop toward that front line again, I notice small gaps in the shield wall as the soldiers ready to throw their spears at us.
Multiple blows could crack my air shield, or they could take out our horses if they catch us.
I pull my bow from my back, gripping my horse with just my legs, and loose arrows at them. It is a feat most of our cavalry can’t manage, but I have fine-tuned the skill on my hunts. I don’t bother aiming for the small gaps between the enemy shields; my cover fire tightens them up anyway and aborts their attempts to hurl those spears at us.
My father forms another fire crystal, smaller this time, and as our horses tear even closer to the enemy, he throws it and guides it straight into the center of the partly broken catapult. Wood shards explode out from it and the team working on it are tossed like dolls.
We do not slow our gallop as we turn sharply away from the enemy. This is when we are the most vulnerable, with our backs to them.
Another rumble shakes the ground, and I turn briefly toward Aldrin’s band, who stand behind an immense wall of roots pulled from the earth. Beyond them, a rip has opened in the ground around the catapult, and roots thicker than my torso erupts from it like a tentacled sea monster and drag it down, crushing the structure in their grasp.
A horn blasts from Fort Blackrock and my father leads us in retreat. I ride low on my warhorse, my entire body moving in rhythm to the fast pounds of its hooves striking the ground, sounding like the beat of war drums. My heart hammers painfully to the same song.
Crashing rumbles through the night. I glance over my shoulder to see the enemy’s shield wall part, an attack force racing through on horseback. Friendly arrows fly overhead as we near the fortress to dissuade the pursuing enemy.
Caitlin’s form is visible high above us, firing arrow after arrow, with hundreds of guards following her. The fae overtake us in the retreat and speed across the bridge of roots and in through the open gate.
Dread turns my blood to ice as the enemy warriors gain on us with their fresher mounts. With the cracking of so many hooves against the ground and their cries and jeers, they sound like a pursuing thunderstorm.
My father does not slow as he reaches the bridge and pounds across it. Liam is a heartbeat behind him. I don’t question whether it can take my weight also as I gallop over it with Aiden and Brandan flanking me. We cross it in moments and race toward the slowly lowering iron gate.
Almost immediately, more hoofbeats hammer on the bridge. I make the mistake of glancing behind me. A horde of a hundred mounted warriors races toward us, swords drawn and ready for blood. Far behind them, the soldiers of the shield advance forward. They are planning to slide in through the gate behind us and hold it open for the larger host. Lord Desmond must think very little of us.
I get a final glimpse of my siblings on the wall before I race beneath the gate. Their faces are masks of concentration, and their arms are held high. Diarmuid’s mouth works as he chants a druid incantation. Caitlin’s bow is forgotten, and a snarl peels her lips back from her teeth.
I pull my horse to a stop in the courtyard and whip around in time to witness the bridge pulverized to dust with the enemy still on it.Pride fills my chest at my sibling’s display of autumn magic.
The enemy falls into the ravine, screaming as they are impaled on spikes or crunching as they hit the bottom. Some make it across, but the Spring fae on the wall send huge stakes of wood out of the ravine to skewer their bodies, humans and horses alike. Our soldiers working the wrench system on the gate allow it to drop in freefall for the last ten feet.
It hits the ground with a bone-shuddering impact.
I shake with the adrenaline of the fight as I look around at our people gathered by the gate. Aldrin is here, striding toward us with a huge smile on his lips. Cyprien, Drake, Klara, Silvan—they are all here.
A huge cheer tears out of the amassed crowd. Everyone is laughing and slapping each other on the back. Human soldiers gather around the fae, calling out praises to them and shaking their hands with huge, awe-filled grins on their faces.
So many fuss around Aldrin that he struggles to make his way to me. Everyone wants to get a few words in with him and many reach out to touch him, as though he is a god walking among mortals. Finally, they have witnessed his might and appreciate what it is worth.
I am frozen in place, the jovial moment far too surreal compared to the death and destruction I just left behind. My father swiftly dismounts, then slides his arms around me, lifting me from my horse and crushing me in an embrace. He swings me around in a full circle and speaks into my hair. “I have never been more proud of you.”
He places me down on shaky feet.I glance over to Aldrin, who is practically being mauled by a group of well-wishers. My father follows my stare.
“He didn’t do half bad tonight either.”
I raise my eyebrows at him. “Father, are you growing fond of Aldrin? Will you allow him to merely exist unharassed now?”
“I know that bastard does more than merely exist around you, Keira,” he growls. “But yes. He is growing on me like a bad rash. One I suppose I can tolerate if it doesn’t kill me from sheer annoyance first.”
I want to say more to him, but Diarmuid and Caitlin race down the stairs and engulf me in a group hug.Over my brother’s shoulder, I glimpse Aldrin approaching my father. They exchange a few words, Aldrin’s eyes sparkling bright.
My father grabs his wrist and raises it high in the air. “Tonight would not have been a success without this man!” he yells above the roar of the crowd, and they explode with cheers for both men.“He and his people destroyed many catapults and dealt a great blow to enemy morale.”
I want to wrap my arms around Aldrin and kiss those beautiful lips, right here in front of everyone, but they cannot know about us yet. The heated look Aldrin gives me as he looks my body up and down tells me that his mind has gone to the same place. He holds my eye and flicks his head toward a narrow alleyway between the main body of the fortress and a tall, freestanding watchtower.
I raise a single eyebrow at him. He cannot be serious.
His eyes darken, and a smirk grows on his lips as he flicks his head at it a second time.
“This calls for a celebration! Who else is thirsty for wine and music?” my father calls over the crowd, to more cheers. “Gwyneth. Let’s make this happen. Open the casks!”
The crowd funnels toward the bonfires of the army’s camp sprawled to the north of the fort. Diarmuid and Caitlin speak excitedly to each other over my head, but I only have eyes for Aldrin, who is a statue amid the moving crowd. He winks at me, then turns and walks down that damned alleyway.
I glance around. Most of the crowd has thinned and moved toward the camp, but many remain in this clearing. I bite my lower lip. My heart races with the anticipation of having Aldrin’s hands all over me, but my mind fears discovery. Would they notice if we both disappeared down the same alley?
My feet are moving before I make a choice.
The second I step into the pitch black, large hands grab me and pull me in.