4
Valen
Pieces of plaster and tile turn into weaponized projectiles. Fae start running. There are wails of pain and fear, and everything devolves into chaos. An overwhelming sense of panic clouds my head. Everything from Aphelian going back on her word and coming for us now to fear that I’ve inadvertently done something to bring some other disaster down on our heads. I take a deep breath and push it all aside.
Focus now, panic later.
I stumble and fall, and the cumbersome crown slips off my head and crashes to the floor. The entire room is in a panic. I try—and fail—several times to get myself upright, but the rumbling intensifies, knocking me back to the ground and sending me rolling, unable to get my bearings.
Then, as suddenly as it all started, it stops. An eerie silence settles over the room as everyone climbs to their feet and looks around.
“Is anyone hurt?” I call, scanning the room for Tania. She’s dusting herself off as Daroose helps her up, unharmed. Thank the Gods.
Delkin, Ander, Benj… They all seem relatively unscathed. I start down the center aisle, helping people up, checking for wounded. There are multiple injuries, but at first glance, none are serious.
I’m halfway to the edge of the room when the rumbling starts again. Only this time, it’s worse.
So much worse.
The ground quakes violently, and pieces of the ceiling begin to dislodge. Crashing down on our heads, debris and stones rocket to the floor. Across the room, Tania hikes up her dress with both hands and launches herself toward me. She only makes it to the outer edge of the crowd before the floor between us splits wide open and a massive tree bursts through, knocking her back again.
A tree… Aphelian.
“Everyone, keep your distance!” I yell as I charge toward the tree and thrust out my hands. This thing needs to be stopped or it’s going to bring the rest of the roof down on our heads.
My fingers numb as ice bursts from the tips. It encases the top of the tree, working its way down the trunk to the roots, locking it in place.
The tree stops moving. Still, I watch it for a moment to make sure it’s really done.
“Is everyone all right?” Celpin brushes off his tunic and glances around. His worried gaze finds me, and he breathes a sigh of relief.
I’m never going to get used to that. Being the most important person in the room.
I scan the crowd. A few bumps and scrapes, a lot of panic—but still no fatalities. It’s a damn miracle considering the damage around us. I sigh, feigning annoyance. “Who’d like to tell me why there’s a tree growing in our throne room?”
“What the—” Tania yanks out a dagger that’s embedded in the tree bark, securing a small note…
Her lips pull back in a snarl as her eyes skim the paper. Her rush of anger hits me square in the chest as she hands it to me.
The time has come for the Omen of Ice to embrace its fire. I will afford the people of the Winter Lands far more grace than I was ever shown. You have three months to get your affairs in order. Remember our deal, young monarch. I can easily undo what I’ve done.
Aphelian .
“Undo what she’s done?” Celpin frowns. He’s looming over my shoulder, breathing on me as he peers down at the note. “What does that mean?”
“Who knows,” I lie. It’s a warning. A threat that only a few of us will understand. If I stand in her way, she’ll undo what she did to allow Tania to survive our link.
“And what does the Omen of Ice embracing fire mean?” He leans even closer. “Is she talking about the prophecy? Is it—”
I pivot and nudge him back. “I know as much as you do, Celpin. Except for why you suddenly have a desire to invade my personal space. If you’ve become enamored with me, I have to say, you’re not really my type.”
Celpin clears his throat, cheeks flushing, and my father rests a hand on my shoulder.
I crumple the note in my hand and gesture to the guards on either side of the steps. “Get these people someplace stable. See to the wounded.” The guards spring into action without hesitation, herding the people from the room. I say jump , and they eagerly ask how high . I’m never going to get used to that, either.
The tree didn’t break through the roof, but the ceiling is cracked and the floor is a mess. There’s debris everywhere. The longer everyone lingers in the room, the more of a chance that someone gets hurt. Plus, we need to discuss this without the extra ears.
It takes several minutes—during which I hear multiple snipes about this being Tania’s fault —but once everyone is clear, I focus on the few that remain. My family, Tania, and the rest of the council I’ve chosen.
Celpin curses while Guria begins to pace. She’s running her hands through her hair and shaking her head slowly, lips moving in silent prayer. The older Fae is the most reserved of the bunch, and I’ve come to rely on her advice. She’s grounded and approaches things with logic—but also with compassion. Something the Winter Court sorely needs.
“We knew this was coming,” Delkin says. He takes the crumpled paper from me and smooths it out, reading. “At least we know we’ll have three months before she attacks.”
“But why give us three months?” Guria frowns. She wrings her hands and glances over at the tree. “Why not attack now, while we’re unprepared?”
Delkin pockets the note. “That’s a good question…”
“Is it?” Celpin laughs. “It’s a trick, obviously. She won’t wait three months. She’s a monster.”
“She’ll keep her word,” Tania says.
They all turn to her.
“How do you know?” There’s no mistaking Celpin’s accusatory tone. He draws himself up, curling his fists tight.
She watches him, unfazed. “Because Servis didn’t, and Aphelian will want to prove she’s better than him.”
“Tania’s right. She’ll honor her timeframe.” I catch her appreciative gaze for an instant before looking away. “In the meantime, we need to come up with a plan…figure out what this ‘embracing fire’ means.”
“Maybe it doesn’t mean anything,” Celpin says with a snort. “Maybe it’s all smoke and mirrors to catch us off guard. Keep us running in circles.”
“No, it definitely means something,” Delkin says. He folds the note in half. “Aphelian has always had a flair for the dramatic.”
“If it means something,” Celpin counters, “then why would she tell us?”
“Whatever she’s up to,” I say, “she doesn’t believe we have a chance at stopping her. Her arrogance is…”
“Even worse than yours,” Tania finishes.
I tamp down the urge to laugh and stick my tongue out. Monarchs don’t do things like that. Still, I can’t resist giving her a small smile—one she returns briefly before turning away.
“What do you mean, ‘whatever she’s up to’?” Guria asks. “Isn’t she out for revenge? That’s what this is all about, right?”
“I’m sure that’s part of it, but that one single line… There’s more. It’s a hint.”
Celpin frowns. “No disrespect, Lord Valen—”
“Valen,” I correct. “Just Valen.” Hearing anyone refer to me as Lord makes my skin crawl.
“Valen,” he says hesitantly, like he’s worried he’ll be punished. Celpin likely remembers the extreme actions my uncle took when not addressed properly. “Even if what you say is true, it doesn’t change—”
“You’re wrong. It changes everything .” I take several steps toward him. “If we can figure out what’s really going on, then maybe we have a chance.”
“Our best chance is to attack her now,” Celpin insists, “while she isn’t expecting it. It is foolish of you to wait. If this is because of your druid—”
“ Enough .” From day one, Celpin has been vocal about bringing the fight to Aphelian. Never mind that she’s stronger than us. “First of all, we have no idea where she is. And second, this isn’t Tania’s decision. It’s mine.” He means well, but he doesn’t have all the facts.
Celpin pales as tufts of frosty air waft from my fingertips. He takes a step back and dips his chin. “Of course.”
“Contrary to what you think, Celpin, I don’t manipulate Valen’s choices,” Tania snaps. Immediately, her eyes widen, and she clenches her jaw.
Shit. I need to get it together. She’s feeding off my irritation.
Tania takes a deep breath. The effort is to calm herself as much as it is to calm me. She clasps both hands behind her back —probably to hide the physical hints of our connection. When our emotions run high, Tania involuntarily manifests my Fae magic. Icy fingertips, icing beneath her feet, frosty breath—we’ve managed to keep it hidden so far, but sooner or later it’s going to give us away, if we’re not careful.
“I’m simply a druid here to help the Winter Fae,” she says.
Celpin’s expression softens a bit. “I understand. Truly, I do. But there are rumors that the relationship between you and our new monarch is…inappropriate.”
I shrug in an attempt to hide my irritation, then walk up to the dais and pick up the Winter Crown from the floor. It’s a bit dusty but undamaged. I place it back on the pillow stand where it belongs—not on my head—then slump down into my uncle’s throne. It’s an uncomfortable thing with a stone seat and a jagged back. Maybe I’ll have it replaced. I wonder how scandalized they’d all be if I put in a couch…
“Please enlighten me,” I say to Celpin. “What are some of these unsettling rumors?”
He glances at Tania, then back to me. “It’s no secret that you have a reputation for taking women to your bed.”
“I also have a reputation for drinking, cursing, and undertaking far too many reckless endeavors that tend to end in embarrassing situations. And while I do love women”—I wink at Tania; she rolls her eyes—“and let’s be honest, the druid is quite fetching when she’s not being a stick in the mud…I’m far too much for her.”
“Oh, it’s true,” she says, playing along. “And on top of that, he’s too enthralled by the sound of his own voice to ever hold my interest.” She lifts her right hand, fingers splayed. “Not to mention he’s a slob.” She puts a finger down. “A drunk.” Another finger. “His sense of humor is questionable.” Another finger. “He has no sense of direction and refuses to—”
I clutch my chest and cringe. “I think they get the point.”
Guria’s eyes widen while Delkin sighs, like he’s tired of the whole thing already. I know I am.
“It’s a matter of trust, Lord—” Celpin catches himself. “Valen. If she’s no longer an Aphelian, then why do you keep her?”
I stare at him for a moment before laughing. The sound is heavy and dark, and an icy chill blows through the room. “Keep her? She honors me by choosing to stay by my side.”
“To what end?” He jabs a finger toward the tree. “How do we know she hasn’t had a hand in that ?”
Ice forms on the throne where my hand grips the arm. It’s bad enough hearing the whispers around the estate. But hearing accusations from my own council—which Tania is a member of?
“Perhaps it might help if you told us her role in the court?” Guria steps in, her smile growing wider—and faker. She doesn’t dislike Tania, but she did side with Celpin on not agreeing with her place on the council. Guria’s motives are different, though. She feels it will cause chaos and mistrust. Currently, she isn’t wrong. “What purpose does she serve?” she asks.
“Despite what Aphelian did—because of Servis, a Fae—the druids are not our enemies. Tania is here as an ambassador and as an advisor.” I stand and move to Tania’s side. “She has my trust and my loyalty.”
“Keltania is honorable and wants what’s best for our people—and hers,” Delkin says. “Things in the Winter Lands are in flux, and caution is understandable, but give this new court a chance to prove themselves.”
Celpin deflates some, pursing his lips, but says nothing.
Guria steps between us and smiles. It’s forced and far too enthusiastic considering the tree poking through the cracked floor, but I appreciate it.
I nod. “The coronation celebration should move forward tonight as planned.”
“But—” Celpin protests.
“Make an appearance. Reassure everyone that the situation is under control. Then, go back to your rooms, gather your thoughts. We will meet first thing in the morning to discuss how best to proceed. Aphelian has given us three months, and we’re going to need every minute of that to prepare for war.”