23 THE QUEEN
No matter the man, and no matter his loyalties, eventually, he could always be bribed, blackmailed, or beguiled.
The guard on my tent was no different.
He was young, with a sparse beard and a voice that broke when I called to him hours after the Bloodthirsty Prince had ordered me to be chained in this tent.
“Yes…your…Your Majesty?”
I offered him a gentle smile, gesturing to the chains on my wrists. “Surely there would be no harm in allowing me a brief walk?”
He swallowed, glancing around. “I’ll have to ask my superior, Your Majesty.”
I gave him a nod filled with sorrow and forced a blush to rise to my face. “At the very least…I need to take care of some personal needs.”
His blush matched my own.
A hybrid soldier blushing like a nervous bride. I barely suppressed an eye roll.
“Of course, Your Majesty.”
His large hands shook as he pulled out the key, unlocking the heavy manacles from one of my hands. With an apologetic glance, he ensured the other manacle stayed clamped around my left wrist, the chain dangling free.
I didn’t say a word. Although I itched to order somebody to slit his throat.
Small steps.
I couldn’t use my power with the fae iron encircling my wrists. But at the very least, I could determine which tent they were keeping Prisca’s cousin in.
I’d watched the fight between them. One of Lorian’s fae lackeys had ordered a guard to watch me, but I’d still seen the way Prisca had wrestled and rolled across that arena in order to prove herself worthy of the hybrid crown.
Meanwhile, the Bloodthirsty Prince had once again lived up to his name.
Prisca had looked utterly ridiculous, standing in that arena, dressed in servants’ clothes, her face pale, hands covered in blood. And yet the hybrids had knelt to her.
But what choice had they had? Zathrian had been bleeding out behind her.
The hybrid heir was proving herself to be little more than a savage—as I’d always known.
“This way, Your Majesty.”
I ignored the sneers as the guard led me to the latrine. My cheeks burned with fury as I took care of business like an animal, the guard standing several footspans away, gazing at the sky, his cheeks red.
If I had been born a man, with a man’s strength, I could have used the chain dangling from this heavy manacle to strangle him.
Instead, I delicately cleared my throat, allowed him to lead me to a station to wash my hands, and gazed up at him with wide eyes.
“Please…my legs are cramped. Would you be so kind as to escort me on a short walk?”
He hesitated, glancing around. After a long moment, he caught the other end of my chain, holding it in his hand.
Like. A. Leash.
“I suppose that would be okay,” he said with a decisive nod.
I imagined his head rolling free of his body.
“Thank you,” I cooed.
I let him choose the route, gazing up at him as if I had no true destination in mind and simply wanted to stretch my legs. “What is your name?”
“Previs, Your Majesty.”
“My name is Kaliera.”
His blush traveled from his neck up into his cheeks. I glanced around. “This camp seems well organized.”
“It is.” He didn’t say anything else, his gaze constantly scanning for higher-ranking soldiers. It was clear I wouldn’t be getting any further information out of him until later.
But something far more important had caught my eye.
Several rows of tents to our left stood one of the fae…Galon.
He said a few words to a hybrid soldier, who gazed up at him like a dog hoping for a treat from its owner.
The hybrid soldier nodded, replying with a few words of his own. And as Galon stalked away, the hybrid soldier stayed posted outside the tent, his hand on his sword.
I ducked my head as Galon disappeared.
My mind was racing as Previs led me back to my tent, again chaining me to the thick, fae-iron pole shoved deep into the earth.
This wasn’t over yet.
I simply needed to talk to Zathrian.
It had been two days. I only knew this because our cell was close to the main, locked door. And each time the guards brought our meals, I could catch a single glimpse of freedom when they opened that door.
So far, they weren’t attempting to confuse us by giving us meals at strange times.
Rythos said little. I was the one who paced for hours. The one who wrung my hands, left my meals uneaten, and gulped for air—my chest so tight it felt as if I couldn’t get a full breath.
“You should try to eat something,” Rythos said when the next meal was delivered.
My stomach twisted, and I gazed at the bread, fruit, cheese, and sweet cakes that had been brought for us.
Royals.
Something told me Prisca hadn’t eaten like this when she’d been captured by Regner’s men.
Still, she’d at least been given chicken bones to aid her escape. Our cell lock could only be opened by a specific key, infused with magic. I knew because I’d questioned Rythos relentlessly about potential escape routes.
He cleared his throat, and I whirled to find him gazing expectantly at me. He nodded toward the food.
I barely resisted the urge to throw it at him.
“Perhaps you shouldn’t have stopped me from getting us out of here,” I snapped.
Rythos scowled at me. “The guard who stepped forward has a unique form of magic. He would have drained your strength until you were unable to walk properly.”
I shuddered at the thought.
Then I turned to pace some more.
“They could be dead,” I said conversationally. “All of them. They’ll die, waiting for us to arrive with Arslan ships. Their last thoughts will be wondering where we are—”
“Enough!” Rythos roared, jumping to his feet.
I swept up the cheese knife and held it tightly in my hand, refusing to allow that hand to shake. I might not be able to access my power, but I would—
Rythos’s lips twitched.
Disgusted, I threw the cheese knife back onto the table.
“What is your plan?”
“My brother is going to return,” Rythos said calmly. “And I will talk some sense into him. He’s a logical man.”
“That’s your plan?”Expecting his brother to be logical was the very reason we were in this cell.
He met my gaze, and fury burned in his eyes. “What would you like me to say, Madinia? I fucked up. And everyone we love is going to pay the price. Well, everyone I love. You don’t care about anyone but yourself.”
His words took the air from my lungs more effectively than a punch in the gut.
Rythos’s expression immediately turned contrite. “I’m sorry. That was out of line. And entirely untrue. I don’t even know why I said it.”
Ignoring him, I walked over to my bed and lay on my back, gazing up at the ceiling as I began to rebuild my defenses.
And if my eyes burned like they were on fire, that was no one’s business but my own.
Traveling through Eprotha sent chills along my skin.
The regiments that we’d been so careful to avoid…
They were no longer there.
Regner had moved his army. Likely, they were already marching south into Gromalia.
All we could do was hope Rekja’s army could hold them off. And that by the time we reached our own army, we would be able to meet them.
If Herne and his rebels would join our numbers as promised. If Conreth would bring more fae from his lands. If Pris and Lorian and the others could use Daharak’s ships as planned to transport as many of the hybrids as possible to meet us.
If. If. If.
Demos had written to Vicer, ordering Finley to be arrested, making it clear that he expected him to be treated with care and respect. Vicer was a good man, and he would ensure Finley wasn’t targeted by anyone looking for revenge.
I’d been so, so sure that Demos was wrong about Finley being the one to replicate the amulet. There had to be someone else with a similar power.
But when we received a message back, stating that Finley was nowhere to be seen, I couldn’t deny it any longer. Three days later, we received another message. Finley had been found walking north along one of the main merchant roads and was finally arrested by our people.
Even more worryingly, Vicer’s message confirmed he hadn’t yet reached the Asric Pass—even though the small battalion sent by Prisca and Demos had already eliminated the soldiers Regner had positioned ready to ambush any hybrids who’d attempted the pass. The three thousand hybrids Prisca had sent with Vicer had been plagued by bad luck, slowing them down significantly. Apparently, anything that could have gone wrong had. While Vicer had previously created a temporary camp at the entrance to the pass, it was not going to be well supplied enough for the number of hybrids who would now be arriving every day. The hybrids needed to arrive with food, tents, and, of course, weapons.
By the time we met Telean in the tiny village we’d agreed upon, she was practically vibrating with impatience.
All of us had been more than ready to enjoy a warm meal that wasn’t cooked over a fire. But I’d mostly been too on edge to enjoy it. Even knowing that Regner had moved his armies elsewhere, I was aware there was always the chance that one of the humans here would recognize one of us and turn us in.
But Telean had chosen this village well. I’d already heard rumblings about Regner’s lies, and the sanctuary had been turned to ash. There were no signs of any guards, assessors, or priestesses.
We stayed one night in the village, and despite my anxiety, I fell into a sleep so deep, when Gwynara woke me the next morning, I blinked at her for so long, she laughed at me.
We continued traveling. Demos wore the amulet around his neck, and the sight of it had at least drawn the ghost of a smile from Telean. But all of us were more than ready to meet up with Prisca and the others.
Three days later, Telean demanded we find a sanctuary.
“A sanctuary?” I asked. “Why?”
“That is my own business.” She frowned at me.
“Many of them have been burned,” Demos muttered, adjusting one of his stirrups.
“Not all of them.”
“If they’re not burned, it’s likely because they are guarded,” he countered, rounding his horse to check the other stirrup.
“I know how to avoid drawing attention,” she snapped.
I opened my mouth, and she leveled me with a hard stare. “We are about to march into battle. If I wish to speak to the gods, that is my right.”
The likelihood of Demos allowing Telean to march into battle was about the same as me learning to fly. I glanced at Demos in time to catch the tiny smile playing around his mouth.
“I hadn’t realized you’d become so pious recently.” Demos arched one eyebrow.
Telean just stared at him until his smile became a full-fledged grin. “We’ll find you a sanctuary, aunt.” Something in my chest relaxed. I hadn’t seen that grin for too long.
As promised, Demos found her a sanctuary. My breaths were strained and shallow as Demos and I huddled in the forest near the sanctuary, watching as Telean approached. This village was larger than most, and Regner’s guards had a strong hold on the people here. They shuffled around, eyes darting as they went about their day, not daring to do anything that would draw the wrong kind of attention.
It was a village of women and children, with most of the men conscripted for Regner’s war.
Horrison had declared Telean’s excursion an unnecessary risk and refused to have any part in it. He wasn’t wrong. Firion and Brinlor were arranging for fresh horses so we could travel more quickly, while Elysanth was likely in the nearest tavern.
We’d been forced to leave her sister with human healers in Eprotha. Demos knew they were loyal, but there was no way Amalra would have survived long enough for us to get her to a fae or hybrid healer.
The guard who’d stabbed her sister had used fae iron. Demos had told Elysanth to stay with Amalra, but she’d refused, stating that her sister would want her to get their vengeance.
Demos glanced at me, and his eyes dropped to my mouth. This was the first time we’d been alone in days. At night, I slept next to Gwynara, while he occasionally caught a few hours’ sleep and then insisted on staying up as sentry.
I…missed him. We’d spent most of our days together in Herne’s camp, and I missed those long walks. Missed making plans for the camp. Missed watching him look at me the way he sometimes did…
Focus. I had to focus. The guards near the sanctuary looked bored. My arrow was already nocked, and I aimed directly at the guard closest to Telean.
But they both ignored her as she shuffled through the wide wooden doors. I blew out a breath.
“Of all the times for my aunt to find her faith,” Demos muttered.
“I’m sure plenty of people find their faith during war.”
He sent me an amused look. “Have you found yours?”
“No,” I said immediately. “You?”
Demos seemed to think about it. “I’ve never had a problem believing in the gods. I just struggle to believe their existence is of any benefit to us.”
Despite my insistence that I hadn’t found any kind of faith, I found myself glancing around, as if the gods could hear us and were about to strike us down. Demos shifted closer, lifting my arm to study a bruise near my elbow. The feel of his large, callused hand on my skin made anticipation shiver through me. Made my heart race and my chest warm. When he released my arm, I instantly craved his touch once more.
Telean stayed in the sanctuary for a long time. Long enough that I had to fight with the voice in my mind. The voice that insisted some kind of harm had come to her. Already, Demos was tense, likely planning how we would kill the guards. His gaze remained pinned to the doors, as if willing his aunt to walk out.
A flap of wings sounded above my head. I froze. A pigeon was fluttering down from the sky, directly toward where we were hidden.
Demos let out a string of low, violent curses. But we were trapped. One of the guards was frowning, watching the pigeon dart toward us.
As long as there weren’t any wards blocking our location from them, the fae-trained birds could find us with their own strange magic. Unfortunately, they had no understanding of the importance of subtlety. And anyone watching a pigeon fly purposefully toward a clump of bushes on the edge of a forest near a sanctuary—which was being guarded due to a number of attacks on others just like it…
I wasn’t a warder.
Neither was Demos.
But I wouldn’t allow Telean to die here.
The guard angled his head.
And Telean stepped out of the door.
The guard was still looking at us. My hand tightened on my crossbow, and I aimed at his throat. Telean summed up the situation with a mere sweep of her gaze.
And then she clutched her chest, dropping to her knees.
“Why, why, why?” she wailed.
Every hair on my body stood up, as if Lorian had directed his power straight into me.
“What do I do?” I gritted out.
Demos was silent. I pulled back the string of my crossbow. “Demos!” I hissed. “Do I shoot?”
“Hold.”
His tone was as unyielding as the rock I was balancing on.
The guards were watching Telean. She babbled something about her lost daughter. About the evil hybrids and the wicked fae.
The first guard glanced our way once more. But Demos was clutching the pigeon in his hand. I barely breathed.
“Get up,” one of the guards snarled. The other guard said something too low for me to hear, but I could hear his mocking laugh. And that laugh told me Telean’s distraction had worked.
She staggered to her feet, wiping her face with her hands. And then she stumbled off in the opposite direction from us, still weaving unsteadily on her feet. My hands shook at how close we had just come to fighting for our lives.
Demos and I slowly melted back into the forest. Both of us looked down at the pigeon in his hand.
He nodded, and I untied the message from its tiny leg, unrolling it. Demos leaned close, and I couldn’t help but breathe in the scent of him.
The message was from Rekja. Our generals had been moving our own army north. And Rekja’s regiment had managed to push Regner’s soldiers out of Gromalia. This war would be fought in Eprotha and not Gromalia.
I grinned, raising my gaze to Demos’s.
But he wasn’t smiling. Instead, a muscle ticked in his cheek, and his eyes were hard. “It doesn’t make sense,” he said, and his tone made a ball of dread expand throughout my gut. “It just doesn’t make sense.”