3 LORIAN
Twice now, I’d watched Prisca drown. Watched her lie still, her chest frozen, face slack. I wished I could somehow keep her away from all water for the rest of our lives.
Her eyes drifted closed, and my chest squeezed, my hand almost trembling as I pushed one of her long curls away from her face.
Sleeping. That’s all it was. A normal response to the healing. Still, I leaned closer, watching her chest rise and fall.
Even knowing we were both alive, dread rolled through my veins, thick and bitter. I didn’t doubt Telean was right—and that there would be repercussions. But I couldn’t bear the thought of Prisca being the one to face those repercussions.
And I kept having the strangest feeling that I was being watched.
Behind me, the door opened, and I hissed out a breath, turning.
Conreth stood in the doorway. His eyes lingered on Prisca for a long moment. Long enough that I showed him my teeth. Usually, that would have at least resulted in an eye roll, perhaps a pithy comment. Today, he just gestured silently for me to join him.
I hesitated, glancing at Prisca. But she was sleeping, and at the very least, I needed to bathe and eat.
Still…
Making my way to the door, I stepped past Conreth, finding Rythos craning his neck, attempting to look into the room. I might have mocked him for his fretting, except that I also couldn’t restrain myself from checking she was still breathing.
“Stay with her.”
He nodded, slipping into the room. My eyes met Conreth’s. “What is it?”
It wasn’t often that my brother looked uncomfortable. Almost…awkward. “Can we talk somewhere more private?”
Despite my dark mood, curiosity burned through me. My brother was acting strangely, indeed.
Nodding, I followed him to the cabin Daharak had given him. This part of the ship was quiet, most people likely above us on the main deck, enjoying the fresh air.
Conreth’s cabin was the same size as mine and spotlessly clean. Likely, he’d warded the cabin to prevent any accumulation of dust.
My brother remained standing. I studied his face, watching the way his eyes darkened, his lips thinned, and then…trembled.
“What is it?”
He seemed to steel himself, meeting my eyes once more. “I heard what your mate said. I killed you. And Prisca brought you back.”
Not for the first time, I was at a loss with my brother. His jaw tightened at my silence. And I truly looked at him. That was…devastation in his eyes. He watched me as if I were still dead, with the knowledge that he was the one responsible.
“Conreth—”
“If not for her and her time magic, you’d be dead. By my hand.”
“You heard what Prisca said. Regner used his mirror.”
“The effect would be the same.”
Fury suddenly burned through my chest. “What would you like me to say, Conreth? We didn’t talk before or during the battle. I worked with the others to strategize, while you refused to communicate, attacking whomever and whatever you wanted. You knew of Regner’s ward. If you’d thought logically, you would have known your attack wouldn’t be successful, and you would have known he’d allowed the wards to falter in an attempt to trap you when you killed his generals. But you weren’t thinking logically,” I snarled. “You were functioning out of arrogance and ego, hoping you could kill Regner where he stood and everything could go back to the way it has always been.”
The blood had drained from Conreth’s face, and I let out a humorless laugh. “Did you imagine Regner’s death would make me reconsider choosing Prisca? Do you truly think that is why I chose her? Because of my need to be at her side during war?”
Conreth’s eyes had lightened—the only sign my words had an effect. “You’re right. It was my arrogance that did this. My inability to accept your choice. I’m sorry, Lorian.”
For a moment, all I could do was stare at him. Never had I heard a true apology from my brother.
My throat unlocked. “Apologize to Prisca.”
He nodded. “I will.”
It was difficult to trust this man impersonating my brother. For an absurd moment, I wondered if Regner had infiltrated him somehow. But no, the misery in Conreth’s eyes couldn’t be feigned.
When I didn’t speak, his shoulders slumped. “I want to truly ally with you and…Prisca. I want us to work together to win this war. I will return to our kingdom and attempt to sway the wardens. You can have full access to Hevdrin and all my generals. You were right—you know this continent better than I do.”
Any other time, I would have felt sheer triumph at his words. But I knew the price of those words, and it left a bitter taste in my mouth. Prisca had nearly died to bring me back. She couldn’t use her power. And who knew what the true consequences would be for defying the gods?
“Do you need anything else?” Conreth asked into the silence.
“Yes. We need you to take Jamic with you. He has so much power, it rivals some of our wardens. Teach him how to wield it in battle against Rekja.”
“Done.”
I couldn’t find it in me to thank my brother. All I could do was nod and stalk toward the door, attempting to ignore the regret in his eyes.
“Enough fussing,” I begged. We stood on the deck, where I was finally enjoying some fresh air. Lorian hovered, one hand clamped around my arm in case I felt dizzy.
He just sent me a look caught somewhere between amusement and pure male stubbornness.
“You need to rest.”
“Lorian.” I’d had two days of resting, and this morning, I’d woken up starving. It was as if my body wanted to replace everything I hadn’t eaten since the battle. Lorian kept watching me eat with a pleased, smug expression on his face.
“Fine,” he growled.
His brows lowered as he stared at the horizon. “What is it?” I asked.
Green eyes met mine, and I could see him debating whether I was well enough to be told whatever it was he had learned.
“Lorian.”
He sighed. “Marth received a message earlier from one of our spies. There are rumors Rothnic is working on something new.”
Dread punched into me. As one of Regner’s patriarchs, Rothnic had been responsible for the horseless carriages in the capital. He’d also been the mind behind the magical cannons that had sunk so many of our ships while we’d worked to bring down the barrier.
There was no question that he was one of Regner’s most important tools. Anything he was working on for this war would no doubt bode poorly for us.
I lifted my face to the sun. Apparently, we were anchored in fae waters, south of Quorith. Nearby, a gull screamed. And yet, even in this peaceful moment, all I could see was that mirror. And the man who had countered my power.
“Tymriel sent us a message while you were… recovering,” Lorian said, his eyes hard.
I snorted. “Are the elders offering to assist us yet? What happened to the hybrids I asked Tymriel to send to help our people get through the pass?”
“The other elders wouldn’t agree. They said it’s too dangerous. Regner has stationed his soldiers along the pass.”
I let out a low curse.
Lorian took my hand. “Last time we spoke, Tymriel said he was hoping to convince someone to go against the elder’s wishes. His letter mentioned a man named Orivan. One of Zathrian’s generals. Tymriel is going to find a way to get a message to him.”
I knew what this meant. “I’m going to have to kill my cousin,” I said.
Lorian’s brows lifted.
“I know you’re thinking it. We don’t have time to tiptoe around the issue. He has twenty thousand hybrids. My people.”
He took my hand. “Our people.”
His words stole the air from my lungs.
At Conreth’s summit, I’d declared that Lorian would be the hybrid king. And clearly, he was ready to step into that role.
Pushing up onto my toes, I buried my hand in his hair and directed his head down to me, pressing my lips to his. Being able to touch him, feel his mouth against mine, hear his low, rough growl…it was everything.
He deepened our kiss, tongue stroking as he wrapped his arms around my body, pulling me close.
There was a desperation to this kiss. I’d watched him shatter apart, and he’d watched my heart stop beating.
Someone cleared their throat, and I pushed against Lorian’s chest. He let out a displeased growl, and I laughed against his mouth.
“Ahem.” Galon grinned at me. “Glad to see you’re feeling better. I have someone you need to meet. Rekja’s people were tearing Gromalia apart looking for his lover, so I asked Daharak to step in. She had some of her pirates keeping her safe during the battle. But I had a feeling you would want to speak to her.”
My stomach curdled. I didn’t regret my order to let Eryndan learn his son was seeing one of the guards. But I hadn’t enjoyed risking a stranger’s life for our needs either.
Galon was waiting for me to respond. Forcing my expression into a mask of calm welcome, I nodded. He turned, and I followed his gaze as he gestured to Daharak and the woman standing next to her.
Both of them walked toward us.
Rekja’s lover moved with the grace of a panther, her sleeveless tunic showcasing strong, toned arms. Her long legs were encased in the leather leggings Madinia also favored, while her black braid fell to the small of her back. Her dark eyebrows and hair contrasted sharply with her pale skin, her bright-blue eyes a shock of color as they narrowed on my face.
“Your Majesty.” She nodded with the ingrained habit of someone who’d been taught to bow to the crown—any crown.
“Please, call me Prisca.”
She hesitated but cleared her throat. “My name is Thora.”
We stared at each other for a long, awkward moment. But we didn’t have time for awkwardness. Perhaps we could skip that part.
“I would like to apologize,” I said. “I’m the reason you’re here. I wish I could tell you I had a noble reason for stealing you from your life. But the truth is, I used you as a pawn. I needed Rekja to distrust his father, and I knew he would suspect Eryndan of either hiding or killing you.”
Thora’s mouth thinned, but something flickered in her eyes. “I’ve never heard royalty apologize before.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Not even Rekja?”
She smiled, but it was sad. “No, not even Rekja. The truth is, the rumors of our relationship had already begun to make their way through the palace. Someone close to the prince had been blackmailing me. They learned Rekja was in love with me and then made it clear if I didn’t cooperate, I would be killed. When you had me kidnapped, I assumed my life was ending.”
I winced. “You must have been terrified. I’m sorry.”
Her smile turned genuine. “You should likely apologize to the fae you sent. I almost killed two of them.”
I couldn’t help but grin. I liked this woman.
“I need to speak to Rekja,” I said. Already, I was using Thora again. But I had no other choice. “We have to work together if both of our kingdoms are going to survive.”
It was Thora’s turn to wince. “When he learns you were the one responsible for taking me…you’ll be lucky if he doesn’t attempt to kill you, Your Majesty. There’s no way you will be allowed within a thousand footspans of the castle.”
She frowned at Lorian.
A predatory gleam had slid into his eyes at her mention of my potential death, and I squeezed his arm.
“Call me Prisca,” I corrected absently. I could see her point. If someone took Lorian from me and then wanted to have a conversation…
“I may be able to help,” Daharak said from where she leaned against a mast nearby. She lifted her hand, and a familiar silver coin appeared in her palm.
The coin represented a favor owed to her by the Gromalian king. “I thought you used that when you helped Lorian and me get through the city.”
She smirked. “Since you were so sneaky and we used the cove to get you into Gromalia, I didn’t need to use it.”
“But Eryndan is dead.”
Thora shook her head, a smile playing around her mouth. “The coins—and the favors owed—pass from father to son. Rekja wouldn’t risk his honor being questioned, especially so soon after his father’s death. If you use the coin, he will see you. But he won’t be in Thobirea. He hates that city. Loathes the castle.”
I thought of his father’s castle and the way Rekja had been forced to be a puppet for Eryndan. I couldn’t blame him for hating the place. “Where will he be?”
“Sorlithia.”
Lorian sighed. “A coastal city on the border between Eprotha and Gromalia,” he told me. “So far, we’ve done everything we can to avoid it.”
“He’ll be there,” Thora insisted. “I’ll attempt to convince him you helped us, but that coin will only get you in front of him. It won’t make him cooperate.”
We had no choice. We needed Rekja, and it wasn’t as if he was going to meet us anywhere else.
“Then that’s where we need to go.”
I had never been particularly good at persuading people to do what I wanted them to do.
Personally, I excelled at blackmail, manipulation, and sly coercion.
Unfortunately, those skills weren’t going to make these people leave Stillcrest’s camp and move toward safety. So, along with Vicer, I had begun my campaign to convince each and every man, woman, and child to leave this place before it was too late.
So far, I was having mixed results.
Most of her people seemed wary of the thought of a hybrid queen. Vicer had once told me these people were secessionists who loathed the concept of being ruled by anyone. But the truth was, they were being ruled by someone.
Kaelin Stillcrest.
She’d strengthened their isolationist ideals, and yet she was the one who dictated everything in their lives. She controlled the food rationing, the security, the little education available for the children. Her refusal to prioritize healers meant she even governed life and death.
And yet Stillcrest had convinced these hybrids that Prisca was the threat. It was utterly infuriating.
So, I was slowly attempting to convince them otherwise––making no attempt to hide my desire for them to leave. I sat with mothers as they watched their children play, and I told them of how Prisca had saved so many children from Lesdryn not long ago—with Vicer’s help.
I trained with the sentries and told them about the army Prisca was amassing, ready to defend our kingdom.
I talked to young women and men, who likely dreamed of a life outside this camp—although none of them would admit to such a thing. I told them what Prisca had told me, about the hybrid kingdom known as Lyrinore, and what it had looked like when Ysara showed Prisca all it had to offer. I told them of the markets and the libraries, the people and the magical creatures that roamed the land. And I told them that the hybrid queen was determined to ensure the hybrids on this continent could return home to that life.
A few of them seemed open to at least listening to what I had to say. A tall, thin woman named Tralia had a cool head, and unlike most who merely echoed Stillcrest’s insistence that this camp was too well hidden to be found, she actually asked questions about our armies. About Prisca herself, about the fae, and about Regner.
Meanwhile, Vicer spoke of the threat. He told everyone who would listen how Regner’s scouts had been drawing closer. He warned them about other camps that had been decimated, and he detailed all he had learned about the devastation of the village he, Prisca, and Tibris had once called home.
We’d rescued almost two hundred hybrids from the city the night we freed Jamic. And most of those hybrids had already moved south. They’d lived beneath the oppressive cloud of Regner’s tyranny, and they knew exactly how much they had to lose. According to Vicer, they’d managed to convince a hundred or so people from this camp to leave with them.
Around a third of that number would travel down to the fae lands to join our army. The remainder would make their way to the meeting point near the Asric Pass, where they’d wait for our signal to cross.
Three days after we arrived, I broke my fast with Vicer. I’d spent the early hours of the morning walking through the forest surrounding the camp and searching for signs anyone had been lurking. It was quiet. Peaceful. And yet, it made the hair on the back of my neck stand to attention.
“Galon told me he sent a few of his fae friends to keep an eye on the camp,” I said. “But I haven’t seen any sign of them.”
Vicer looked a little sick.
My fists clenched. “She sent them away, didn’t she?”
He gave a sharp nod.
I sneered at him. “How long are you going to tolerate this?”
“We can’t force these hybrids to move unless we send in an army. And if we do that, we’re no better than Regner.”
“Unlike Regner, we would be saving their lives, not killing them.”
Vicer dropped his gaze to his porridge. I snorted. Unlike most of the tender-hearts I was continually surrounded by, I had no problems with removing others’ rights if necessary. I played with my spoon, but I was no longer hungry.
“Once you cross the line into a certain level of idiocy, you lose the right to self-determination. And that is especially true for those responsible for protecting children.”
Vicer said nothing, simply pushed his porridge away. I clenched my teeth.
Not long ago, I’d told him to use his power on Kaelin Stillcrest to make her cooperate. His reaction had made it clear he would never do such a thing. All of us could be moving toward safer ground this very second. Vicer’s power was wasted on him.
“The fae Galon sent wouldn’t have left the area,” I said, changing tactics. “They’ll be making themselves scarce. I’m going to go find them. Perhaps they can help convince some people of the danger here.”
He nodded. “Those who listened and moved south have been safely making their way to the planned location. My people have been refreshing the caches of supplies hidden at each point.”
“Good.”
He angled his head, meeting my gaze once more. And his eyes were haunted. “You feel it too.”
“Yes.” We were running out of time. This camp may be well hidden, in a strategic location, but it couldn’t stay hidden forever. Eventually, Regner’s iron guards would find it.
“I would like a word.” A sharp voice came from over my shoulder.
I rolled my eyes at Vicer. His mouth twitched, but I turned on the hard wooden chair to find Stillcrest staring furiously at us.
“I know what you’re doing.”
“And what would that be?”
“Using the hybrid heir’s propaganda to convince my people their lives are at risk. We have a good life here. It’s a difficult life, but an honest one. And you’re determined to ruin that for your own selfish needs.” Her voice shook with fury. Clearly, that “propaganda” was having more of an impact than she would like.
I gave her a dismissive look. “Our own selfish needs? We’re attempting to save lives.”
She sneered at me. “Women like you always enjoy bending over for a crown. But my people aren’t desperate for your queen’s approval.”
Slowly, I got to my feet. “I lived beneath the shadow of a power-obsessed dictator. Tell yourself whatever you need to feel good. But I see the truth. You would rather everyone died here than found safety somewhere else, because it would prove just how unimportant you are.”
Her eyes flashed, and she took a step closer.
“You will leave,” she breathed. “You are not and have never been welcome here.” She turned to Vicer. “And your invitation is also rescinded.”
And that was it. I was tired of tiptoeing around this woman. Giving her my coldest court smile, I opened my mouth. “You—”
The camp bells began to ring, and the color slowly drained from Stillcrest’s face. A young boy ran toward us. I’d spoken to his mother yesterday. His name was… Balin. And he had the power of enhanced hearing.
Stillcrest whirled to face him.
“Hooves.” He pointed at his ears. “I can hear them. Hundreds of them. Coming from the southeast.”