Chapter 3 #2
“Mages portaled in a signed letter from King Galen. The war is officially over, brother. King Galen is marrying Princess Selene. That means we can return to Blackthorn at some point.”
Over… it’s finally done. Peace between vampires and fae has come!
Why do Everett’s words feel like the start of a new war?
I shake my head, but Tristen grins. “Princess Selene will be our new queen, who also happens to be Everett’s sister.
Did you know that Everett had two sisters?
Twins, I’ve been told. And guess who is coming to join our new queen?
The twin. Everett’s sisters must know how to decipher the crazy fucked-up things he told you.
For starters, what the fuck is the Vitalis?
“We need to find that as soon as possible because once we do, you will be free of his magic. Things can go back to normal, Titus. That’s the silver lining, right? Think of this as a battle; we just have to survive it. Whatever Everett did to you will end.”
“That’s…” I look into the flames, seeing the light.
Mentally, I’m standing in the shadow of a mountain Prince Everett has forced me to climb.
I can’t flee, for the shadow stretches far and wide.
Sunlight will never kiss my cheeks until I start to climb my way out of this mess.
Tristen’s helping plot the path. He thinks that’s what is stressing me.
It’s not the trek up or the heights I must overcome. I fear the descent once I’m done.
“A fantastic idea,” Tristen says with a fool’s enthusiasm. “It’s either that or sneak into enemy land, kidnap a fae, who hopefully is knowledgeable in time-weaving, then we must force them to teach you how to control it.”
He raises a firm finger in the air. “I vote for option one. If anyone knows about his time-weaving magic, it’s got to be one of his sisters.”
Ryker leans against the bed while Ember is seated between his legs. He holds her so close it’s hard to tell where one stops and the other begins. A perfect fit, but it’s platonic.
Against her dark skin, his pale face and silver hair look like death, and the freezing river that leads to the next life.
My grip on the letter tightens so much that the edges tear under my fingertips, yet the words remain unaltered.
Leaning on one another, Nero and Cyrus use each other’s backs for support.
Tristen sinks his fang into his lip as he reads Nero’s letter again, and the other letters remain tossed in the middle of the dirt floor.
We’re being separated. Tristen and I have orders to go to the capital, Blackthorn Castle, where I will receive my new title.
I am no longer a commander like Cyrus and Ryker. Each commander is given three hundred soldiers. Ember falls under Ryker’s command, Nero under Cyrus’s, and Tristen is one of my soldiers, but my duties as general are now requiring me to step away.
I should be happy that Tristen gets to come with me. I am, but… what about my family?
“It makes no sense,” I hiss, grabbing Cyrus’s letter off the floor.
Nero, Ember, Cyrus, and Ryker are to go to Lockhelm, a small human town that borders the western Fae kingdom of Lunestra.
The humans call it the Night Court. The huge mountain ridge called the Cradle of Darkness separates Solaria in the East and Lunestra in the West, both of which are enemies.
But unlike Solaria, which is bathed in light, Lunestra is bathed in shadow.
I’m told their crops grow only with the help of magic, since sunlight doesn’t touch their lands.
Some even say that because the fae of Lunestra consume magic-infused food, they have strange and undocumented power.
The Night Court is a mystery to all, with its borders closed off by a massive veil. The human settlement of Lockhelm dares not roam near. Many people have tried to understand how Lunestra can produce a shield, let alone maintain it consistently.
The amount of power it would require is… mind-boggling. Some rumors claim they make sacrifices to a long-forgotten god, while others claim they traded their magic to a dark spirit.
“Why is King Galen sending you to the borders near Lunestra?” I mutter. It’s a death trap, or a taunt to the Night Court now that we have aligned with the fae of Solaria.
“Because this war is never fucking done,” Ryker grunts, hugging Ember tighter and closing his eyes, as if shielding himself from the fact.
“We’re going to be separated,” Nero mutters.
Ember reaches up and flattens her palm over her heart, where our matching scar is. “We’re always together. Distance is an illusion. This war will end. One day, we will be together again,” she whispers hopefully.
Ember reaches for Nero’s hand, then, like a chain, he grabs Ryker’s. Ryker takes Cyrus, and Cyrus grabs Tristen, waiting for me to take his other hand. I take Tristen, but I hesitate to touch Cyrus.
I may never hold his hand again. So I risk it, and that’s when it happens. I feel the time-weaving magic grab hold of me and everyone in the room. I jolt and gasp, causing all eyes to look at me.
Shit! I’ll have to explain what has happened to me. They’ll be endangered because, like Tristen, they will put their lives on the line to help me.
A bead of sweat runs down my temple; it glides down my cheek at an irritating pace, as I hold my breath and wait.
One blink, then two. A sharp inhale.
I wait for them to realize what has happened. Frantically, I look around, but… it’s just us, alone in the tent.
Oh, I’ve wrapped the entire tent in a bubble! They have no idea that just outside these thin fabric walls—shaking and bouncing from the strong wind tonight—everyone is moving in slow motion.
My lip twitches as I smile; a small amount of the weight on my shoulders lifts. In a way, it’s like I’ve told them.
I look at Tristen. He leans closer to me, his left shoulder blocking some of me from their view. I think he knows what happened, so he coughs and says, “Distance doesn’t matter.”
“Distance doesn’t matter,” I repeat as I close my eyes and listen to them repeat our words.