Chapter Thirteen
Boraleashe
The Real Threat
After dinner ended, Boraleashe didn’t see his daughters anymore, but he did speak to the lord of ceremonies, and everything was in place for the next moon. He had two days left, but he wanted to see his daughters’ made rulers. He could take that bit of peace with him into his final hours.
Early dusk settled over his kingdom while he walked across the grounds.
He’d dismissed all the servants to be with their families so he could be alone with his last thoughts.
His realm was eerily silent. There was no sound except for his boots crunching over hard-packed snow.
He did all he could not to think of Theodor, to not send him an apology on his wind.
It was best to cut all ties because if he received a response back from the king, even a minuscule taste of his warm wind would devastate him that much more.
So, instead, Boraleashe walked until he was exhausted, until he was swaying on his feet from fatigue.
Back in his chambers, he was just conscious enough to remove his clothes and drop face-first onto the thick white-and-silver quilt on his bed.
He left his bay windows open like always, preferring to listen to the snowfall and his wind as white noise.
Boraleashe gazed at the skylights, marveling at the purplish sky, which was now more royal blue with the approach of the Snow Moon.
Boraleashe wasn’t afraid, only full of regret.
Despite how early in the evening it was, he was exhausted from his travels, but he was restless.
Boraleashe flipped from one side of the bed to the other, burying himself under a mound of mink and sable furs, seeking peace, but nothing eased his mind.
His soul cried out for what it missed, for what it needed…
Theodor. Instead of continuing to fight the feelings, Boraleashe surrendered to it and allowed the comfort of those memories to lure him into a fitful slumber.
It was only then Boraleashe closed his eyes with a long, contented sigh.
Just before he drifted off, a cool wind gently brushed his lips. “My dear king.”
Boraleashe was trapped in the throes of a dream—well, a nightmare.
He was battling against a fierce blizzard that tried to bury Amárach under hundreds of feet of snow, trying to wipe his world from existence.
He was alone, his guards and army all perished or buried alive.
And no matter how hard he fought, the ice and sleet continued to beat him into submission.
Boraleashe yelled and thrashed in his sleep, swinging his ice spear with all his might, fighting an enemy he had no chance of besting.
He tried to warn his people to flee, to run to safety… if there was anyone still alive. Boraleashe’s ears rang while he dug and clawed at the snow like a madman. A frightening shiver racked his body so hard he dropped his spear.
Boraleashe jerked upright in bed, clutching the side of his head.
Why were his ears still ringing? He was discombobulated when several of his elite guards and his viceroy stormed into his chambers.
It was then that Boraleashe realized that his ears weren’t ringing.
It was the bell tower in the guard’s watch station. His territory was really under attack.
“Lord Boraleashe! Snow Trolls are attacking the Shiland Village! There have already been numerous casualties,” the general of his army informed. Adresin jerked Boraleashe into his armor. “We have to get you and your daughters to safety before they reach the main grounds.”
Boraleashe was battle-ready in seconds, but if his guards thought he was running in the opposite direction while his people were being slaughtered, then they didn’t know what it meant to be a ruler.
Or his people no longer knew him. The sudden appearance of those beasts was his own fault—Snow Trolls were demonic creatures brought to life by the Snow Moon.
Without another word, Boraleashe bolted from his chambers with Adresin fussing at his back for him to go underground with the other lords and dignitaries.
His home was bustling with house attendants and servants trying to get to cover, and his daughters were in the midst of it, helping everyone before they sought their own safety.
Boraleashe was proud, but he was also terrified for them. They were the future.
“You are too valuable to this realm, lord!” Adresin yelled over the chaos, running to keep up with Boraleashe’s determined strides.
“I am not the valuable one… they are.”
“Father! What’s happening?” Kallos hollered, a panicked servant almost barreling into her.
Boraleashe rushed to her side, but he had little time to answer her questions, not when there were screams and sounds of terror drifting up from the valley.
Buildings were being demolished, and age-old structures were being brought to the ground by the destructive beasts.
Plumes of stone dust rose into the night sky, and he knew what that meant.
“There is no time, Kallos.” Boraleashe gripped both her toned shoulders, staring deep into her wide eyes. “I need you and your sister to go below into the mines until the battle is over.”
She was already shaking her head, and Boraleashe clenched his jaw at her stubbornness. “We ride with you. We can fight!”
“No!” he thundered, his tone capturing the attention of his eldest heiress, who leapt over the balcony, landing in a fighting crouch. “You and Enosabe go now! Do not argue with me.”
Before either of them could continue to object, his personal guards carried them away, cursing and kicking to stay at his side. Boraleashe ignored them, turning back to his commander to instruct him on what may very well be his last act as titan of Amárach.
“We must get the villagers to safety first. I’ll fly; you gather every soldier and create a barrier at the entrance of the Meltwater Forest. If the trolls reach the mainland, nothing will survive.”
The master of his fighting battalion answered without opposition. “Yes, lord.”
“Will someone talk some sense into our lord, please,” Adresin bellowed, clutching onto the shawl of Boraleashe’s robe while searching for anyone who would agree with him. His old friend looked devastated, desperate, because he knew Boraleashe would not survive if he went alone.
Boraleashe cupped his viceroy’s smooth cheek in a firm, understanding grip. “Calm yourself, dear friend. You have seen me leave and return from many battles. Trust in the gods that I will prevail again.” Boraleashe’s gaze softened at the last second to say his silent goodbye.
Adresin withdrew his hands, and Boraleashe whipped his fists around in a tight circle, creating a freezing cyclone in the sky, then blasted him into the air through the open roof.