Chapter 64
My thoughts roar so loudly in my head I am nearly blind as I take one of the portal gates to the Nothril Court. When the black-as-night spires pierce the stars and Lulythinar moon above me, I barely hear the words the guards hurl at me, demanding to know on what business I have come.
I don’t answer them. I just open my mouth and bellow: “Prince Rahk!”
My voice echoes off carved stone walls that shine like obsidian. More guards come spilling out of the palace, ready to defend their lord and lady at a moment’s notice.
But they do not lay a hand on me, and I lay none on them.
“Prince Rahk!” I bellow once more.
The main palace entrance swings open. Long, tied back silver hair comes into view first, then polished black armor, the hilts of two swords sticking up over his shoulders, and finally, Rahk’s clenched fists. He shoves aside the guards in his way and hurries down the palace steps to where I wait.
“Ash,” Rahk says, his eyes sharp even as his face remains stoic. Even if we weren’t blood sworn, it’s nice for once to not be wasting time constantly referring to each other by titles.
“Come with me,” I say, and it’s more of a plea than a demand.
Rahk casts one glance back at the palace—which tells me he will likely face retribution from Lord and Lady Nothril if he returns to Valehaven now. That is his only hesitation before he marches with me back toward the gate that will transport us through time and space to Valehaven.
“Where is Stella?” he asks under his breath once the guards are far enough behind us, and there is genuine fear in his tone.
“The Ivy Mask is taking her to the Small Cities.”
“What is the Ivy Mask?”
“No time. I am going to kill Faradir tonight and I need—”
Rahk grabs my shoulder, yanks me back just before I reach the stone archway at the edge of this side of Caphryl Wood.
“You cannot do that,” he growls, the mask falling enough to reveal the sudden fury twisting his face. “You will plunge us all into war if you give up your throne.”
“I don’t care about that,” I snarl back, baring my teeth at him. “There will be war one way or another, but there will be no peace until Faradir is dead. He ripped off Oleria’s wings and sold her in slavery to one of the barbarian kings beyond the Veil. I sent my wife away—forever. You know I’m bound by blood to destroy the human lands at dawn if Faradir is not dead. What choices do I have, Rahk? Tell me!”
Rahk’s brow thickens with his horror, but he doesn’t back down. “Get him to break one of his own laws—like you’d originally planned!”
“What do you think I’ve been trying to do these last dozens of years?” I shoot back. “Why do you think I married Stella? My father is not stupid, and the difference between us is that I have things I care about, and he doesn’t. He’s practically invincible.”
“Stop right there,” Rahk demands, putting out his arm to keep me from stepping through the portal to Valehaven. “You’re losing your rationale. The High King—”
“He ripped her wings off! He ripped her wings off. He killed Calver for no reason except that I refused to marry Listhra. He blinded Hylath because I married Stella. Now look what he has done to Oleria. Can you imagine what he would do if he got his hands on Stella? He would shred her to pieces!” My voice collapses in on itself, and I cover my mouth with my shaking hand.
“Keep your love for Stella,” Rahk says, his voice softening just slightly. “That is what makes you strong. But you need to stop believing the High King has all the power in this situation. There is something he wants, the one thing he has protected at all costs. The one thing he would sacrifice his only heir to keep.”
I shake my head, my hair flying into my eyes. “The only thing he cares about is his throne, and it’s not as though I can drag his throne before him and threaten to chop off its legs if he doesn’t behave!”
“Stop being purposefully dense. Thinking like that will land us in war. A war that will lead to all of us being killed and Faradir still reigning. Stop reacting and start thinking.”
Then Rahk marches through the portal, which bursts into bright white light as it swallows him whole. I stand there a second longer, huffing, both furious and yet . . . maybe a twinge hopeful. A touch less desperate.
Why did Rahk have to get all the steadiness, all the unmovable strength of the two of us? All I got was rebellion and a flare for drama.
Then again . . . perhaps that is what I need to bring down Faradir. A knee that refuses to bend and something to mislead him—a way to lie to him while always telling the truth.
Stella’s face flashes before my eyes, beautiful and distraught and fiercely stubborn.
I shouldn’t have sent her away.
Mountains of Ildrid, I was a fool to let my fear overcome me like that. She has that brilliant glamour magic of hers, and it might be just what I need. Though not in the way I’d originally planned.
The gate swallows me in dazzling white as I step through it.
My feet land on smooth rocks beside a moonlit sea of glass. Rahk waits a pace away, his face like the jagged edges of a cliff. His presence always gives me the courage I need to press onward.
Our eyes meet, and then I’m in motion, heading toward the bridge that leads to the cliffside palace of Valehaven. “We need to find Stella and bring her back. Immediately.”
Rahk gives one nod and falls into stride beside me, matching my quick pace. Hardly a minute later, before we’ve cut through shrubbery instead of minding the winding path, Rahk’s head whips up, his nose twitching.
“Edvear is coming,” he announces.
“Toward us?”
“Toward us. He’s running.”
Dread like nothing I’ve ever faced clamps hold of me, chains my ankles and wrists. “Oh, Great Kings have mercy.”
I break into a run, Rahk on my heels, my desperation quickening my pace. Then I come to a sudden halt, nearly getting rammed in the chest by Edvear’s horns. I grab him by the shoulders, restraining him as he gasps for air.
“Lady Stella!” he chokes out, his cat eyes ringed in white. “The High King!”
“He has her?” I demand, then shake Edvear when he doesn’t answer fast enough. “Does he have her?”
“Yes!” And then he crumples into sobs as his limbs give out.
“How?” I tighten my grip on him, so he hangs like a ragdoll with his buckled knees. “How did he get her?”
“It doesn’t matter—” Rahk tries to tell me.
Because we both know. We both knew the moment Edvear started crying.
“What. Did. You. Do?” I seethe, bringing my face to Edvear’s. “You betrayed her.”
“The High King made me!” Edvear cries out in pain as my nails dig into his skin. “I never—”
“Let him go, Ash!”
“When?” I demand. “Tell me when!”
“While you were gone at the Small City!” Edvear babbles. “He caught me, and I thought he was going to kill me but—”
Rahk grabs my wrist in one hand, my elbow in the other, and pulls at a threatening angle. “Let. Him. Go.”
I ignore him and his threat to break my arm. “You betrayed Oleria! You’re the reason she—she—”
“He was going to kill Hylath and Milton and all the rest!” Edvear screams back. “I had no choice!”
“No wonder the High King accepted my second bargain!” I’m shaking with rage, with hurt, with hatred. “Because he knew he had you all along to tell him everything I was planning! I trusted you!”
“Enough!” Rahk bellows and throws his body into mine with such force I am nearly knocked off my feet. I scramble to catch my balance, lose my grip on Edvear, and the moment I’m almost recovered Rahk barrels into me once more and smashes me against a marble column.
“Go save your wife,” he hisses at me when our faces are only a few inches apart. “What’s done is done. Edvear is a victim, not the enemy. So get ahold of yourself!”
I only stand there frozen for half a second, but it feels like time slows, expands, enough for the panic in my mind to crystallize. How can I not keep my balance? Every time I think I’m in control, think I have what it takes to overcome the High King, something shoves me to the ground. It’s as though I walk a tightrope of courage with gaping chasms of fear on either side, ready to swallow me the moment I take a misstep. And I’m always taking missteps.
It’s not hatred of the High King that is stronger than my love for you, Stella. It’s my fear of losing you.
Ash, I believe with all my soul that there is always, always happiness on the other side of heartbreak.
I love you, Stella.
Stella has been my guiding line, my north star since the moment she came into my life. She is the calm to my chaos, the reason to my madness, the hope to my despair.
I am better for having known you, Ash. Can you believe that? For me?
The memory of Stella’s face replaces that of Rahk’s before me. That first moment I saw her, when I removed her veil. The sheer terror always reflected in her gaze—it’s gone, and has been for some time.
Maybe I need to accept that, despite the heartbreak of our circumstances, we have made each other better. And that even if this ends worse than I could have imagined, I wouldn’t give up the time we had with each other. I won’t give it up.
My father may take her away from me, but he can never take away my love for her, or the happiness I found with her. Those are mine, forever.
“I won’t touch Edvear,” I growl. “We need to get to Stella.”
With that, Rahk releases me, and we break into the fastest run of our lives to the place where my gut just knows Faradir has taken her.
We reach the massive double doors with the carved oak and its spreading foliage and vast root network. The usual guards are gone, probably out celebrating on the blood-soaked lawn.
“I’m with you,” Rahk murmurs under his breath.
Those soft words bring a sudden lump to my throat.
“He’s fighting to keep his tyranny,”Stella once told me. “But you are fighting for freedom. For hope, for peace. For me, Ash. That’s why you won’t break.”
When I drag my composure under control and shove open those double doors, it is for those that I love. Stella, Rahk, my mother, Oleria, Hylath, Calver, my whole staff—even Edvear—the Small Cities, and for those who sang the Call of Lulythinar earlier. It is for what is good in the human lands and in all of Faerieland that I step into that room and face the man sitting on his throne. The man I call Father.
He smiles at me, long and slow and triumphant.
In his palm is a small, clear globe of glass, and trapped inside, shrunken to the size of one of my fingers . . . is Stella.