9 MADINIA
Calysian helped me search for the hybrids. They had left obvious tracks—branches broken, footprints in damp dirt. And they likely hadn’t managed to run very far. Without his help fighting the iron guards, all of the hybrids would have been slaughtered.
Perhaps I should thank him. It went against most of my instincts, but…
Turning to him, I found him glowering at me.
“What?”
“Where is the hybrid queen?”
“Busy calling our allies to war.” I gave him a warning look. I was allowed to speak critically about Prisca. This man had not earned that right.
His dark eyes glittered. Either with amusement or annoyance, I wasn’t sure. The man was irritatingly difficult to read.
Somewhere in the distance, a child was wailing. I barely hid a flinch.
“Thank you,” I ground out, my gaze on the forest ahead as I picked my way over a fallen branch.
“Look at me.”
My muscles locked up. This man needed to learn that I didn’t take orders.
“Madinia,” he crooned. “Look at me.”
I took a long breath and turned, attempting to ignore the way his low voice had made my lungs squeeze. This man was a predator through and through.
He stared at me as if I were a pawn he was considering putting into play—his dark eyes filled with ruthless calculation.
“The fates have seen fit to push us together more than once. One day, when I need you, you will help me with my own goals.”
It would be difficult for him to find me on another continent. But still, the entitlement in his voice infuriated me. I said nothing, and he seemed content with my silence. Likely, he’d decided I would fall in line with his decrees.
He truly was an idiot.
We plunged deeper into the dense forest. The sounds of the natural world enveloped me, a stark contrast to the turmoil and death we’d just left behind. My heart still raced, each beat a reminder of the gravity of our situation.
Even with tracks the hybrids had left, Calysian’s keen eyes spotted signs of passage I would have missed.
The child’s wailing began again, this time even louder. If not for the looming presence next to me, the child––and all the others in our group––would have been buried together in more unmarked graves.
“You saved a lot of lives today,” I said.
That dark gaze flicked to me, a flash of something I couldn’t identify in his eyes before he nodded curtly.
We approached the hybrids’ chosen hiding spot. Their fear was almost palpable, and it was evident that they hadn’t been able to run any farther. This was where they had decided to take a stand.
My mouth watered as sickness crawled up my throat. They would have died screaming. All because Regner had twisted the minds of those he had raised as iron guards.
A dagger flew through the air toward Calysian. One of the boys attempting to defend the others.
Calysian caught the blade, a deep line appearing between his brows.
“Stand down,” I sighed. “He helped me fight the iron guards.”
The boy gulped. “Are they…”
“That group is dead. We don’t know if there will be more to follow.”
The hybrids gathered their meager belongings, their movements quick but shaky. Calysian watched the scene with an inscrutable expression. “I must leave now.”
I wasn’t surprised. In truth, I was only surprised he’d stayed this long.
His dark gaze speared into me. “Remember what I said.”
I showed him my teeth. “If you attempt to force me into submission, you will regret it.”
The group around us ceased speaking, and I could feel their attention on us. Calysian smiled. “If anyone could achieve such a feat as to make me regret my actions, it would likely be you.”
Without another word, he turned and walked away, melting into the forest. Despite the fact that we no longer had the benefit of his power and sword, some of the tension dissolved from my muscles.
Turning back to the hybrids, I led them forward, toward our next hiding spot—a hidden cave nestled in a thicket. The moon hung in the sky like a gift from the gods, considering how dark the forest had become. Something unwound in my chest. The iron guards would have split all escape routes into sectors. With several of them lying dead in the forest, we likely had a little time to rest.
And we needed it. The supplies had been cleverly warded to keep animals away, and we pulled out more blankets and dried meat. It was too risky to light a fire, so we slept huddled together, the adults taking turns on sentry duty.
At least, the others slept. I couldn’t sleep with the ball of dread heavy in my gut. Each time I closed my eyes, my body reacted with a racing pulse and tense muscles, alert and waiting for the next calamity.
We were up with the sun the next day, trudging through the forest. With its dense canopy and tangled underbrush, it seemed to stretch endlessly before us, various shades of green blaring into a monotonous march. Each step was a battle against the fatigue pressing down on my body.
Our progress was slow, hindered by the ever-present fear of discovery, even now. The constant vigilance, the hushed whispers, the wary glances—all of it combined to further steal what little energy we had left.
The path, strewn with twisted roots and fallen branches, seemed to mock our efforts, our steps becoming shorter, our feet often failing to lift high enough to remove the risk of stumbling. As the day wore on, the weight of exhaustion grew heavier. As did the weight of the children the adults carried. The young girl in my arms had somehow managed to fall asleep, her head nestled into my neck, even as I continually switched her from hip to hip in an effort to ease the weight in my arms and back.
The adults kept a stoic front for the children, but the strain was evident in the deep lines etched on their foreheads, the hunch of their shoulders, the exhaustion in their eyes as the hours wore on.
As the sun began its descent, painting the sky in hues of pinks and purples, I attempted to remember what came next. I knew we were traveling in the correct direction, but a dense, heavy fog had swept into my mind, and I couldn’t lift the mist enough to determine where we were supposed to stay next.
There were safe houses in various villages, but we hadn’t taken one of those routes. Or had we?
My mind whirled, until it felt as if the ground itself was shifting beneath my feet. I leaned on a tree to steady myself, and Glenda handed me a waterskin.
“Drink.” Her tone left no room for objections.
I took a few sips, conscious of how long the water might need to last.
The last rays of light began to fade, casting long shadows in front of us. And then I heard it.
At first, I thought I was imagining the faint sounds of voices, a murmur of life in the suffocating stillness of the forest.
And then, a woman was standing in front of me, wide-eyed, a crossbow in her hand. “Come quick,” she called to someone, and I wanted to tell her to shut her fucking mouth before she drew the wrong kind of attention.
“Survivors!” someone else shouted.
I felt my eyes roll back as I slumped to my knees.
Rythos folded his arms and gave me a dark look. “You wanted to see me?”
His tone was oddly formal.
I frowned at him. “Um…”
Realization slammed into me, and a sick feeling swelled through my body. It was because I’d summoned him. As if he were my subject.
I’d asked Rythos to meet me places before. But tonight, he was bristling from what he likely thought was my order. And I knew it wasn’t truly about me. Knew that on any other night, he would have shown up with a grin on his face, eyes dancing as he made some teasing remark.
“I…I thought this might be a good place to talk. Lorian tested the silence ward on the balcony.”
Some of the ire left his eyes, and he nodded. We looked at each other in awkward silence for a long moment. While technically he would be my subject when he lived in the hybrid kingdom, he had to know I wouldn’t throw my weight around. And yet…
“Pris?” He smirked at me. “It’s fine. Let’s talk on the balcony.”
I threw open the wide doors and stepped outside. It was cooler here at night, but the wind wasn’t quite cool enough for me to need a cloak.
And I was still putting off this conversation. I needed to choose my words carefully.
“I noticed you didn’t like the priestess.” So much for speaking carefully.
Rage flickered in Rythos’s eyes. “They’re responsible for just as much pain and carnage as Regner’s assessors. How many times did you watch them steal power from tiny, innocent babies, Prisca?”
The memory of the last Taking I’d seen flashed through my mind before I could stop it. The baby had screamed so loudly…
Forcing the memory away, I leaned on the balcony railing next to him. “You heard what she said. Some of the priestesses were working against Regner.”
“Not enough of them.”
We were both silent for a long moment. And then Rythos sighed. “You’re right. I’m not…reasonable or neutral when it comes to those women.”
“What happened, Rythos? You don’t need to talk about it if you don’t want to,” I blurted. “But it might help.”
He sighed. “It was during the time Conreth separated all of us. After Lorian refused to kill the wildkin. I was in northern Eprotha—not far from your village, although you hadn’t yet been born.” His eyes glittered. “It was before Regner truly knew just how dangerous Lorian and the rest of us were—back when we could still walk freely in our human glamour. I met a woman.”
“Ah.”
He slid me an amused look. “Yes. Ah.”
“And you fell in love.”
“Love?” He raised one eyebrow. “At the time, I thought it was love. Now, I know it was nothing more than infatuation. Seeing the way you and Lorian are together… it proves I didn’t have anything real with her.”
My chest clenched. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Your love gives me hope, darlin’. There’s something so pure about it—even when you both want to strangle each other.”
I laughed. One side of his mouth kicked up into a crooked smile, but it disappeared just as quickly.
“We were together for months before I realized she was a priestess. I was traveling often, completing various tasks for Conreth. I never saw her in her robes. I completely missed the signs.”
Priestesses weren’t celibate. It wasn’t unusual for them to take lovers. So that hadn’t been the problem.
“She didn’t know you were fae.”
Rythos slowly shook his head. “And then she realized she was pregnant.”
My stomach twisted into a tight coil. But I waited for him to finish the worst of his story.
“For us fae…any children are a miracle.”
I nodded. Their low fertility seemed to be a result of their long life-spans.
“When I learned she was pregnant, I was so ecstatic, I lost control of my glamour. She told me she would never subject herself to breeding with a monster. And she walked out. I gave her a few days, assuming she would calm down and we would talk.”
Grief tightened the corners of his eyes.
“She…”
“Yes. She went to the stone hags, who used their power to…”
Heat seared the back of my throat. I’d seen Rythos with Piperia. He would have made an incredible father.
“I can’t imagine how painful that was.”
“The worst part was…she wanted a baby. She would have done anything to be a mother. Except have my baby.”
His eyes turned bleak, and I reached for his hand. “I know it probably seems likely that Mona is just another coldhearted priestess. But believing that a group of people are all the same is one of the reasons this continent is the way it is. You don’t have to communicate with Mona if you don’t want to. But…you could find it healing.”
He squeezed my hand. “You’re right about believing people are all the same. I just… I can’t ever see her in those robes, Prisca.”
“I’ll make sure you never do.”
“Then I’ll think about it.”
The door swung open behind us, and Lorian stepped onto the balcony.
“Prisca.” His face was tight with sorrow.
My lungs seized until my voice was barely a whisper. “What is it?”
“I just got a message. The hybrid camp was attacked. Most of them were slaughtered. Some are still moving toward the Asric Pass, but they are being hunted by Regner’s iron guards.”
Most of them were slaughtered.
My knees turned weak. Rythos caught my arm, steering me toward Lorian, who pulled me into his chest. “I’m so fucking sorry, wildcat.”
“Madinia. Vicer.”
“I don’t know.”
“She was right.” I let out a laugh that came out more than a little hysterical. “When Madinia told Vicer to use his power on Stillcrest, I was against it. And now all those hybrids…the children.”
My eyes burned, but I couldn’t seem to cry. I didn’t deserve the release of tears.
My people. The people I was supposed to keep safe.
Consequences.
Were these the consequences from the gods? I turned back time to save one life and lost hundreds or thousands more?
I was going to be sick. I was—
A scream cut through the night. Followed immediately by several more. My heart jumped into my throat, and I pulled away from Lorian as Rythos squinted into the distance.
“What can you see?” I demanded, wishing yet again for fae vision.
“Winged beasts. Heading this way. From the north.”