32. Keira
Chapter 32
Keira
T he immense bonfires illuminate the entire field on the northern side of Fort Blackrock, stealing the chill from the air and chasing away the shadows of night. A shiver runs through me anyway, and Aldrin pulls me closer into his side, placing an arm over my shoulders and wrapping his cloak around the both of us.
“I am thoroughly enjoying the fact that I don’t have to hide how attracted I am to you.” His voice is a low rumble in my ear, and he nips it for emphasis.
I slap him on the chest, hard enough he almost topples backward on the log we sit on, throwing out a hand to catch himself. “You need to hide it a little! People might have a coronary. Humans are not as free-spirited as the fae.”
He laughs. The orange glow of the fire dances across the sharp planes of his face, making them seem more angular and severe. “That sounds like it is their problem.” He takes a lock of my hair and curls it around his finger, giving it a playful tug. “Now tell me, why do humans feel the need to burn people alive on the autumn equinox?”
“The wickermen are not people!” I laugh at him. “They are monuments.”
Aldrin raises his mug of apple cider toward a wickerman that hasn’t been set alight yet. A few nymphs stand before it, staring and unblinking, their heads tilted to the side. “Some of my people are very confused. I think the tree nymphs might be planning a rescue for that one.”
“But…” I frown in their direction, trying to decipher if he is serious. “The wickermen are only hay and corn husks shaped into the form of a giant. Should I go talk to them?”
“And what are the nymphs, if not branches molded into a living form that can change shape? Maybe they think this is a ritual to bring life to the wickermen.”
I rise, determined that someone needs to tell them this is only a ceremony of symbolism. We build men as tall as a castle’s turret and place rings of autumn leaves and sacrifices of our harvest around them in offering to the gods. The true, ancient gods of rule, creation and destruction, like the Life Creator and Soul Ripper. Not the Tuatha Dé Danann who bred the fae. We burn it all under the full moon, to send our gifts of thanks to their realm.
I take a single step away from Aldrin before he grabs my arm and tugs me back, making me fall into his lap.
“I’m toying with you, Keira.” His arm slides around my waist.
The smoldering look he gives me as he peers down into my face sends hot flushes through my body. His lips kick up slightly as he very clearly imagines a hundred different ways he would like to haul me away and take me, but as he opens his mouth to speak sensual promises, I cut him off.
“Aldrin?”
“Mmhmm.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, placing my hands on his chest.
“I haven’t done anything tonight you need to be grateful for. But I can toss you over my shoulder and have you moaning your appreciation within five minutes. I can use my fingers. Or my tongue. Or my cock. Your choice.”
I fist his tunic as my stomach muscles tighten and heat pools between my legs, enjoying the way the fabric bunches to reveal more of his chest.
“That—umm…later.” I blink as my brain malfunctions. It takes a few heartbeats to get my thoughts back on track. “I meant, thank you for fighting for me. This isn’t your?—”
He puts a finger over my lips, stopping my words. “If you say this isn’t my war, I am going to be furious. Your people are my people. Your fight for freedom is my fight. I have a vested interest in this kingdom. It is you. I will not tolerate anything or anyone that makes you unhappy.”
I bat his hand away. “I understand that, Aldrin. But surely you think all this bloodshed is avoidable when I fully intend on returning to your realm with you and fighting for your throne. That in being your queen, I will have no need of this kingdom or my ability to walk freely in it.”
Aldrin leans back in his seat, arms behind his head, as a huge, cocky smile transforms his features. Those amber eyes, sparkling with devious light, don’t leave me once.
“What?” I say, feeling self-conscious. “ What? ”
“I love it when you talk about being my queen. For the longest time, I didn’t think you would choose it.”
I grip his shoulders and lean in so close our noses almost touch. “Well, you better get used to it. I want to be at your side, always. I don’t care for a crown or title. I only want you. If you are adamant about this foolhardy mission of saving two realms single-handedly, I want to be there every step of the way.”
“Foolhardy?” His eyebrows shoot up. “If I recall correctly, you were just as determined as I. So much so that you almost married a monster.”
I can’t help the cringe that runs through me, or the turmoil of emotions that chase it. I look away, but Aldrin grips my chin and forces me to look back.
“Never thank me for my utter, all-consuming devotion to you. Expect it. Expect nothing less.” He kisses the top of my head and wraps his arms around me tightly, pressing me into his chest. “Even if it means devastating realms for you. Destroying kingdoms. Killing men and women who were forced to raise their swords against you by a mad king.”
I turn and look up at him. “What happened to avoiding unnecessary bloodshed? Isn’t that why you never wanted a civil war in your court?”
“That was before I lost you. I have never experienced such desolation as when you walked through that portal. I will not know it again.” He sighs as I stare at him like he has grown a second head. “I will not willingly force a war on my people, but I will no longer back away from it if that is the only option. Titania will break my realm if she is not removed from power. Some evils are unavoidable, like the war we now fight.”
“Do you itch to get back? To fight the battle to save your people?” I brush away a strand of dark hair that has fallen into his face, my fingers dancing lightly across his cheek and jaw.
Aldrin’s eyebrows pinch. “My people need more than a battle for the throne and a change in power to be saved. It will take years, decades, maybe even centuries, to correct the corruption that is killing our lands. A year or two in this realm won’t make a difference. Not when Cyprien has reported that the situation hasn’t worsened. The fae need us to win this war. For humans to migrate to our lands and hopefully birth fae children. It is near impossible for high fae to reproduce among ourselves with the magic dying.”
“And there aren’t enough high fae to channel their magic into the lands to save it?” I ask.
“Not enough willing high fae,” Aldrin grumbles. “It would mean living in the forests, mountains and meadows, instead of the comfortable cities.”
A silence falls over us as I listen to the steady beat of his heart and enjoy the warmth and safety of the cocoon his body and cloak form around me.
The festival of Mabon is in full swing around us. The voices of soldiers singing, accompanied by flutes and pipes, float to us from multiple different groups, melding into one instead of clashing. Where bonfires rage with flames licking high above the wickermen, people hold hands in rings and dance around the offerings. Their laughter is a salve to my soul.
It almost makes me forget all the bloodshed of the last battle, a month ago now.
News reached us that the bands of warriors and hunters we sent out to protect the villages to the east of Windkeep Stronghold were so successful, they killed all of Lord Desmond’s brutal warbands.
We haven’t heard anything from the South since our army forced them out of the North, but Lord Desmond is surely mustering support for our next clash. It has given us enough time to repair this fortress that protects the North from the rest of the kingdom. A feat that would have been impossible without the fae.
Stone was dragged up from the roots of the mountains by the Spring Court high fae. Some was shaped into blocks to repair the battlements and parapets, but the walls were left as the jagged, unshaped sheets of slate that were pulled from the earth and forced into place. Instead of mortar, dragons and fire sprites melted the stone to magma, fusing blocks and sheets together.
Watching the fae and dragons work together to raise the blocks into the air with a system of ropes was incredible.
The iron gate is completely gone, and in its place, thick trunks and branches of mature trees close the passage into the North. It reminds me so much of their Watchtower Trees. Only a person with immense spring or autumn magic could open that gate. It is a temporary fix until the threat of war has passed.
My thoughts are dragged back to the present as the bonfire before us whooshes higher with an audible rush of air. Aldrin calls out a greeting to the fire sprite that feeds the flames before it moves on. I become captivated by a group of huge fire sprites that meander through the revelries, touching the bonfires that fizzled out before truly catching and reigniting them with vigor. It is fascinating how their footsteps leave the dried grass unscathed, yet they could burn a forest to the ground if they chose to.
Aldrin’s grip around my hips tightens. “They really like this festival.”
“What?” I turn to him.
“The fire sprites,” he replies. “They love burning things. Fueling a flame to see how high it can grow. This is a ceremony centered around fire.”
“I never thought of it that way,” I say, but a dragon swooping overhead snatches my attention. It lights up the final, largest wickerman. The column of its fiery plasma breath illuminates the dark sky with blinding blue light. I have to blink multiple times before the aura it leaves on my visual field disappears. A cheer erupts from the soldiers it passes over, many raising their mugs of alcoholic cider to the sky.
My heart expands rapidly at the sight of humans and high fae mingling freely, laughing and dancing together, playing card games or music. The one benefit of fighting a battle as allies is that it swiftly brings down barriers between people. If a soldier can trust another to have their back in a slaughter, they can form a bond that is hard to break.
Caitlin plonks down on the log beside us, handing me a mug of cider. Her face is flushed prettily from dancing and a huge smile curls her lips. “Drink for me,” she says. “The druids insist I can only have the non-alcoholic cider for children because of the babe.”
A heartbeat later my father joins us, deep in discussion with Cyprien, Drake and Klara. The three take nearby tree stumps for seats.
“I still can’t believe you recruited dragons, Cyprien. Dragons! You are as insane as the Tuatha Dé Danann. That is something they would do.” Drake sloshes his drink over the rim of his mug as he sits heavily, then pulls Klara into his lap. Their display of affection makes me feel a little less self-conscious about being wrapped up in Aldrin’s arms.
“And why not?” Cyprien leans forward, frowning at Drake. “Ezekiel’s clan has always been loyal to us. Besides, it is satisfying to witness the enemy’s terror at the very sight of them on the battlefield.” A wicked smile curls his lips.
“Are there dragons in the Tuatha Dé Danann’s realm?” I ask.
“That is where the dragons originate from—the realm of our gods,” Aldrin says. All eyes turn to him. I hold my breath, and I’m sure Caitlin and my father do too; this is the first time we are hearing of this. “The dragons of my world are merely a shadow of those from their home realm. Tiny and powerless in comparison. Dragons need the connection to their realm to thrive, just as we fae do, otherwise they fade with time and each passing generation. Some of Ezekiel’s ancestors were as big as castles and powerful enough to shatter worlds.”
“There! That is another reason why we shouldn’t ride gods-damned dragons!” Drake cuts in, pointing at Aldrin. He turns to Cyprien again. “I can’t believe you recruited dragons!”
Cyprien’s eyes dance with mischievous light. “I can’t believe you weren’t swallowed whole by one.”
Drake’s protests are drowned out by our chorus of laughter. It feels so good to let go and make light of the horrendous shadow of war that hangs over us all.
“The two of you must have nerves of steel.” Klara’s purple eyes bore into me, then my father. “I have never known of someone meeting a dragon for the first time and not weeping in terror?—”
“I know I did,” Drake mutters.
“—let alone leaping on their back and flying straight into battle,” Klara finishes.
“I may have lost my head in that battle,” my father concedes, right as Hawthorne arrives with a jug of cider and tops up our mugs.
“I can drink to that!” Aldrin calls out, and everyone holds up their mugs and cheers.
“Wait. Wait. The one irony I can’t get past,” Caitlin shouts over the top of them, “is that Drake is literally named after dragons.”
We erupt with laughter. Giggles bubble out of me long after the others have finished. There is a lightness in my soul that I haven’t felt for a long time.
Drake spreads his arms wide and shrugs. “What can I say? I’m a complex man. And a smart one, if I may add.”
“Can’t argue with that.” Klara agrees.
My father leans in closer to me, his gaze darting between me and Caitlin. “Have either of you seen your brother?”
“He said he would take the druid’s vigil and be born again with the dawn,” I murmur back.
Caitlin rolls her eyes. “What does that even mean? And why do they need to climb to the heights of a mountain to do it?”
I scan the steep rocks and rough peaks of the mountains cast in the heavy shadows of night. It must be cold and lonely up there, but I guess that is the point. “I think they do it for quiet contemplation or reflection. I don’t know. The druids are too secretive.”
“I would have preferred him to stay close,” my father grunts. “In case the enemy attacks.”
My heart skips a beat. “Do you think it’s likely?”
He runs a hand through his hair. “I have no idea what they are planning. Our eyes and ears in the South have gone quiet.”
Cyprien crosses the space before the bonfire and takes a seat beside Caitlin. He stares at her, frowning profusely for a long moment, before finally speaking. “I apologize for bringing up women’s business, and I hope you don’t mind the intrusion, but I—you see, I thought it would be prudent if—I don’t want to make assumptions, but I arranged…” His words trail off to silence and he seems at a complete loss for how to continue.
“You arranged what, Cyprien?” Caitlin narrows her eyes at him, not understanding his discomfort.
Klara stalks over. “He brought a fae midwife into this realm for your impending labor. You will be due in less than two months.” Her purple eyes run across Caitlin’s large, rounded belly. “Considering the sire of the child, it would be better to have healers of both races present.”
“Keep your voice down,” Caitlin hisses, glancing around frantically. “That is a well-guarded secret for good reason.”
I place a comforting hand on her lap while she closes her eyes and composes herself. “No one can hear,” I whisper. My heart breaks at the look of dread and panic on her face. At the thought of who she fears will find out the race of their child’s sire.
Caitlin lets out a shaky breath. “Thank you, Cyprien. It is very kind of you.”
He gives a curt nod, then gets up and stalks away. It must be triggering for him, considering his own wife died in childbirth. Aldrin’s sister.
We lose ourselves in the revelries as more fae and humans join our group. Silvan and Liam compete over who can create the most impressive ice figure. Caitlin, my father and Aldrin become engrossed in a discussion about our family’s orchard production with limited magic.
I find myself in the middle of a fae card game, losing badly and struggling to keep up with the rules that I swear Drake keeps changing, while Hawthorne gives me helpful tips.
The clopping of dozens of hooves striking the road announces the arrival of a party. A ripple of unease runs through the celebrations. I jump to my feet as sickly sweat erupts across my body. Aldrin and my father race toward that sound. I completely freeze up. My breaths catch in my throat and my chest constricts, making it hard to breathe.
My first thought is that we are under attack. That Lord Desmond snuck behind us and struck our rear. Then the clouds over the full moon part and reveal the profiles of the riders.
Two dozen women in white cloaks and riding skirts. Mothers of Magic. The fact that they traveled on horseback instead of by foot means their message is urgent.
By the time I join the congregation, the priestesses are surrounded by guards with swords half drawn.
“He has the personal protection of the Mothers of Magic!” a priestess roars from where she stands in her stirrups, but the soldiers don’t back down. My eyes dart between our guards and the priestesses with disbelief, until my attention lands on the man in their midst. His hood obscures most of his face and the angle he stands at hides his identity from me.
“What is the meaning of this?” my grandmother yells as she pushes her way through the ring of Appleshield Guards. “Stand down immediately!”
“I’m not so sure about that, Mother,” my father says as he and Aldrin glower at the man, close enough to see his face.
I maneuver around the cluster, reaching my father’s side at the same time as my grandmother. She lets out a soft curse.
I completely dissociate, my brain refusing to process the truth in front of my eyes.
“Hear what he has to say. I implore you,” the priestess continues. “We have brought him into these lands, through the priestesses’ portals, because he offers his help to us. I have his word through a blood oath that he has not come here with intentions of deception or harm to the North.”
“Dismount from your horse, NOW,” my father bellows at the man. The soldiers around him take a step forward, but he holds up a hand to halt them.
Before I know what I am doing, I close the distance between us and gently remove the hood from his face. Blue-black curls spring out. His pale skin is covered in a sheen of sweat that glimmers under the moonlight. There is a hard set to his jaw, and those icy blue eyes that are so similar to his brother’s are blazing not with fear, but with determination.
“Prince Niall,” my father hisses. “You have some nerve coming here.”
The clang of armor plates clashing as the guards take another step toward him sends spikes of anxiety through me.
Prince Niall drags his gaze away from my father, back to me. It is like we speak a silent language in those tense few moments, as he swallows hard and ripples of vulnerability pass across his face. We were always allies, sacrificing ourselves for the greater good of the kingdom.
“You know me, Keira,” he finally whispers. “You know what I fight for. We have always been able to trust each other.”
“Father, I think we should hear him out,” I call out over my shoulder.
“You will want to hear what I have to say.” Pain flashes in Prince Niall’s eyes and is gone a moment later.
My father pulls me back, then grits his teeth as he leans in toward Niall’s face. “The crown has slaughtered its way across these lands, bringing war to our doorstep and pillaging innocent villages. You said your brother merely needed a show of force to back down, yet we have engaged in battle with him twice! Too many of my people have died at the whims of the crown. Why should I listen to you now?”
Prince Niall doesn’t even flinch. “Because I am not my brother. I would right his wrongs.”
“We will discuss this in the war room, with a full council present,” I snap at both men. “I am sure Prince Niall risked himself journeying behind enemy lines for a reason.”
I don’t wait for a response. I bark orders at the surrounding Appleshield Guards to summon the council and they scurry to do my bidding.