Chapter 10
MAIZE
“We should’ve packed the coffee machine.”
I smirked at Charm, glancing up at him. His large arms were wrapped around me as I guided our horse forward. “You mean the hot water poured over canned coffee didn’t do it for you?”
“Because he’s a princess,” Zed said from the next horse over, earning a laugh from me. Charm just shook his head and rested his chin on top of mine.
“I just have good fucking taste, and whatever that was—wasn’t it.”
“Princess,” Zed coughed.
“Truth be told, I wouldn’t mind another cup of caffeine. Or any warm drink,” I admitted, squinting as the afternoon sunlight scattered across the snow. There had been snow in the Horde, but nothing like this. The mountains turned everything bleaker, harsher.
“I do wonder why Oberon couldn’t have done us a favor and hidden in Light Fae territory instead,” Charm mused.
“You’ve been there?” I asked, curious.
“Yeah. A few times growing up, and once for a mission,” he said.
“It’s beautiful and so damn warm,” Philip sighed. “I actually don’t understand how that works since the Horde and Dark Fae lands share nearly the same climate. So why are the Light Fae lands so different? It’s not tropical, but it’s always at least forty degrees warmer.”
Maker.
“Maybe we should go there for vacation after all this,” I suggested. “I’ve only ever been to the Dark Fae lands and the Horde. Well, and Earth for like forty-eight hours.”
Charm let out a huff and shook his head. “When you ran away from us.”
“What did you expect me to do?!” I exclaimed. “You scared the hell out of me!”
“But we didn’t for nearly a year! That earned us major brownie points.” Chait called out smugly from where he rode beside Maddox, their horses moving in perfect sync.
They had scared me too, at first. But somehow, they’d always known when to draw back—when I needed space or softness.
Last night was a perfect example of that.
I hadn’t even realized how thankful I would feel that Chait had thought to check on my brothers or search the mountains through the Spirit realm, until he told me this morning.
I didn’t love what he’d found regarding Oberon, but I was grateful he’d looked. I had no idea why I ever thought we’d be able to surprise the ancient fae. Wishful thinking, probably.
A crack of thunder split the air, a deafening sound that made me tense as my gaze snapped to the sky.
Above us, the afternoon light was deceptively bright—almost cheerful, if you ignored the biting cold.
But the farther east we traveled, the more the air seemed to shift—subtle at first and then way more obvious.
The wind carried a metallic chill, and beyond the rolling hills, thunder and lightning tangled above the distant peaks.
“At least our current weather’s decent,” Maddox noted, his tone dry but alert.
“And the storms ahead don’t look ominous at all,” I teased, glancing at him as he chuckled.
My attempt at levity worked—somewhat—but it also made me aware of the tension I’d been holding. I knew what we were walking toward, and it felt like every step closer made my heart tighten a little more.
Part of me wanted to ask my mates to turn back, to go home to the safety of the Horde, but I knew they’d never agree to that. So instead, I swallowed the fear and focused on the only thing I could control. Protecting them…and killing a primordial fae god.
That thought haunted me all the way until our late-afternoon stop.
We dismounted in a clearing overlooking a deep valley to the north.
I couldn’t see the Dark Fae castle from here, but I recognized the terrain.
It was close, hidden just beyond the ridge line.
I don’t think many in the Horde realized just how mountainous the Dark Fae lands were, but I’d often explored them as a child with the OB forces. Well, before I was locked up.
A memory surged through me: one of the rare, golden ones from my childhood, back when I was barely eight years old.
“What’s the most important rule to remember?” Cora whispered as we crouched low, peering through the thick brush.
“That a surprise attack is useless without a plan,” I’d whispered back, earning a glint of pride in her eyes.
“If you jump out at that deer and try to take it down without knowing how to finish it, it’ll get away. Right?”
“Right.”
It seemed like such a simple memory, but it had clung to me through the years of captivity—proof that the smallest lessons could survive the worst of times.
And she’d been right. Cora’s lesson had never been more relevant.
It didn’t matter if we surprised Oberon or not, because we didn’t have a plan.
No one could tell me how to kill him. Not the ancient texts, not the archives, not even my mother.
In fact, the best ‘bet’ seemed to be to delay his escape or lock him back up. I didn’t accept that as a solution though.
I tilted my head, chewing on the thought. Maybe…maybe I could try to contact Balor.
“Here. Eat something.”
Cannon’s voice pulled me from my consideration as he handed me a sandwich. I stretched my legs and took it with a small smile. Around me, my mates talked easily, their laughter soft and unguarded as they joked about how relieved their students probably were not to have them in class this week.
The normalcy of it—their laughter, the teasing, the warmth—smoothed the jagged anxiety that kept growing in my chest.
It reminded me exactly what I was fighting for.
This sense of calm. This piece of ordinary life. Ours. In our home. In our territory.
For a few peaceful minutes, everything felt almost normal as we ate our lunch and talked through plans for the evening—finding another military outpost to stop at for the night.
We’d already passed three, the black stone forts cutting starkly against the snow in the distance, so I had no doubt we’d find another warm shelter soon.
And as much as part of me wanted to keep pushing forward, I knew rest was necessary. It would also give me time to think—time to decide whether I should try reaching out to Balor.
Movement flickered at the edge of my vision, tugging my attention.
The horses had started to stir. A soft snort.
A panicked shuffle. The metallic jingle of tack as one pulled hard against its reins.
I frowned, setting down what was left of my sandwich as the sound of my mates’ laughter faded into uneasy silence.
“What’s wrong with them?” Philip asked, any note of humor completely removed from his tone.
Valerio was already on his feet, scanning the tree line. “They’re spooked. Something’s close.”
The others rose quickly, instinct taking over as the air seemed to thicken with a charge of tension that made my skin prickle.
Then…nothing. The clearing went still. Too still.
My familiars stirred beneath my skin, the tattoos along my ribs warming as their essences twitched in warning. “I feel it too,” I murmured to them, scanning the tree line. “Something’s here.”
The next sound wasn’t the wind. Branches cracked under deliberate movement.
Then—something burst from the brush.
My magic reacted before I even thought about it. The familiar tattoos along my skin flared with heat as two shimmering shapes erupted from me in flashes of violet and blue light. My gaze tracked the transformation, heartbeat pounding as my familiars exploded outward in defense.
Sy appeared first, sleek and massive, his smoky black scales catching the light as he coiled around the threat, instantly subduing it.
Beside him, Lu skittered into existence, his smaller counterpart.
Her body shimmered in a black-opalescent hue, her eight crystalline legs clicking against the head of our attacker.
The air around her rippled as she lifted her front legs in an unmistakably annoyed gesture.
The creature that had lunged from the trees wriggled and squeaked in protest. Only a millisecond had passed before the clearing burst into startled motion behind me.
“What the hell is that?” Cannon demanded, surging closer.
No one answered right away. We all gathered around my familiars, staring in collective disbelief.
The creature was…adorable.
Tiny, winged, and trembling with rage. Its thick, frizzy fur shimmered silver-blue, and its enormous black eyes were far too big for its little head.
Pointy, dangerous teeth peeked from a mouth drawn back in a hiss that looked more comedic than threatening.
It tried to growl, but the sound landed somewhere between a hiss and a kitten’s mewl.
Lu sighed dramatically, lifting one spindly leg. “It’s a baby.”
Sy’s voice rumbled through the clearing, smooth and unimpressed. “It’s idiotic—but yes, a baby. An unskilled little one that is in over its head.”
Maddox chuckled, and I realized several of my mates had startled and now stared wide-eyed at my familiars.
I blinked. “Wait—did you all just hear them?”
A round of nods answered me, and I couldn’t help but laugh, the tension surrounding us breaking like glass. “Apparently an unintentional effect of the bond.”
I looked at my familiars, who seemed elated. “Congratulations—you two now have a full audience.”
“Considering you never listen to us,” Lu said primly, raising her tiny crystalline face toward me, “this is absolutely necessary.”
“And now they know how funny we are,” Sy added dryly, earning a chuckle from Chait.
“Maker,” I muttered, shaking my head, though the smile tugging at my lips refused to fade.
Philip crouched beside Sy, looking far too entertained by the newest addition to our chaotic situation. “We’re keeping it.”
“Agreed,” Chait said immediately, his lips twitching in amusement. “It’s cute—and it hasn’t tried to kill us yet. That’s a solid start.”
“It absolutely tried to kill us,” Charm pointed out.
“Oh, I don’t know. That seems harsh,” Cannon murmured, and Zed nodded beside him, looking entirely too entertained.
“What do you think?” I asked, glancing toward Maddox and Valerio.
“If you want it, we’ll keep it,” Maddox said with a wink. “Although we should probably make sure it doesn’t have a family—”
“It doesn’t,” Valerio interrupted quietly, his eyes unfocused as he reached into his naturalistic magic. “It’s magically constructed. But it seems completely stable on its own, which means whoever created it hasn’t been around to maintain it.”
I leaned closer to inspect the creature as Sy eased his coils back.
Lu hopped off its head but stayed nearby, positioning herself on my shoulder protectively.
I hadn’t had an opportunity to truly appreciate that they were back to great health, but it did ease my heart to see them so strong after everything that had happened.
As I inspected the creature, I noticed the glint of metal around its tiny neck—a narrow silver band with a rolled piece of parchment tucked inside. It let out a scared noise and recoiled back, but when Zed appeared and began rubbing the top of its head, it began to nearly purr.
“Its appearance is not random,” I murmured, carefully unclasping the collar. “It’s carrying a message.”
The humor drained from the clearing. One by one, the others gathered as close as possible as I unrolled the scroll. The handwriting was in a deep, unsettling red ink.
We’re waiting, little bug. — Zagan
My stomach dropped. The creature chirped innocently, completely unaware of the chill that rippled through our group.
“Did he…did Zagan create it?” I asked quietly.
Valerio shook his head grimly. “No. The magic isn’t his—he just used it.”
Somehow, that made it worse. This tiny creature had probably been minding its own business before being twisted into a messenger by someone like Zagan. I understood that violation far too well, and the thought made my blood burn with fury.
Chait’s voice cut through the silence. “There was never a chance at surprise. They’re already watching us.”
I exhaled slowly, my gaze lifting to the dark ridge ahead—the jagged mountains where lightning still danced along the peaks. The little creature wriggled free from Sy’s coils and fluttered toward Philip, perching on his shoulder as if it had belonged there all along.
“Then let him watch,” I said. “At this point, I want both of them to see us coming.”
The words lingered in the cold air. The fear and the weight of what waited ahead didn’t fade, but beneath it, my resolve burned hotter.