12
Valen
Tania? I race through the woods, tripping and stumbling over rocks and fallen trees. She must be hurt because my head is killing me and my left ankle throbs. Tania, answer me!
The link is silent. I can’t hear or feel her. Fuck.
I break through a small clearing and charge into a thickened section of brush, but my foot catches on something. When I try to right myself, everything tilts sideways, and I’m falling.
I hit the ground hard, the air knocked from my lungs. I gasp, then cough. Wherever I’ve landed smells rancid, and it’s dark, but I make out a form propped up against something several feet away. “Tania?”
“Of course not,” Daroose snaps. “She’s fine, though. Over there.”
I crawl to where he points. She’s in the dark, motionless. There’s blood running down the side of her cheek, and her bottom lip is split.
“I’m okay. I think…” Tania lifts her head and carefully sits up. Cringing, she tilts her head to the dirt ceiling. “Looks like we fell into some kind of trap.”
She’s right. We’re in a cell. The outline of bars around us glint against the small bit of light streaming in from the hole I fell through. The opening is about five feet wide and goes all the way up to the surface. Unfortunately, it’s too high for us to climb out.
“Can’t be from the depleted,” I say. “They were out there, but they’re not organized enough for something like this.”
“Agreed,” Tania says. “But if it isn’t the depleted, then who?” She climbs to her feet and steps over to Daroose. “Are you okay?”
“They interrupted my dinner,” he grumbles.
“We need to get out of here.” I grab the bars and pull. They don’t give in the slightest. “Fuck!”
“Such language.” A deep voice floats in from the dark. He laughs, and a flash of light floods the room as several Fae enter with torches. “You’re able to form a coherent curse, so you’re not our usual catch.”
“And those would be?” I challenge. The newcomer is young—about our age—with short orange hair and a muscular frame. He’s flanked by two equally large Fae on either side, all armed to the teeth.
“Depleted, mostly. Sometimes we end up with an animal or two. Can’t say we’ve ever caught—” He leans closer and laughs. “A strangely marked human, a kelpie, and a Winter Fae?”
Daroose wraps an arm around Tania’s shoulder, pulling her close. “Feel free to poke the scrawny one around—just let the two of us go.”
“I’m a druid,” Tania says, shrugging Daroose off. He huffs but stays quiet. “But you were right about him. He’s a Winter Fae. The Winter Fae, if you ask him.”
What are you doing?
She ignores me. “Are you, by chance, Autumn Fae? Because if so, we’d like a word or two.”
Seriously, have we switched brains? Giving this stranger everything is dangerous.
“We have nothing to lose at this point…”
I disagree. We could lose our heads. I’m quite attached to mine—and the body that goes with it. If you recall, you’re quite fond of it as well.
The orange-haired Fae leans a little closer to the bars. Flashing me a toothy grin, he says, “ The Winter Fae, eh?”
“And a mighty kelpie,” Daroose adds.
Our new friend doesn’t look impressed. “Might I inquire as to who’s asking?”
“Well, like I said, I’m a druid. Keltania. This is Valen. He’s the Winter Monarch. The kelpie is Daroose.”
“Make me seem like an afterthought,” Daroose mutters. He goes to the far side of the cell to sulk.
Gods, you’re trying to get us killed, aren’t you?
“The Winter Monarch?” The Fae tries—and fails—to hide his surprise. He offers a mock bow. “Follow me.”
The Fae motions for one of the others to come forward. The new Fae regards us warily but unlocks the cage and moves aside. I step from the prison, then move between Tania and the other Fae. Daroose follows, murmuring under his breath. They lead us through a series of tunnels and out into the sunshine.
There’s an entire bustling village. To our right, a bunch of Fae stand around a table, watching as one of them guts a small deer, giving step-by-step instructions as he goes. A few feet from them, several children kick a pine cone back and forth, cheering and laughing as it bounces around in the dirt.
“This way,” he says, pointing to a small group across the square. We stop a few feet from a bulky Fae with long red hair and broad shoulders. He’s covered in dirt and holding up a large beam while several others try to secure it in place. A hut. They’re building a home.
The Autumn Court. We thought it might take weeks to find—if we found it at all—but it’s been right under our noses all along. If I believed in such things, I might call us literally falling into their hands fate .
“Gen, these are our new…visitors,” the orange-haired guard tells the Fae leading the construction. He motions to me and snickers. “This is Lord Winter,” he adds. He bows once, then he and his companions leave.
“What do we owe this honor, Lord Winter?” the one called Gen asks.
“We’re looking for Avastad,” I say. “He was a friend of my father’s.”
“Your father?” Gen checks to make sure the plank is secure, then steps out from beneath the construction. He leans in closer. “Violet eyes… You are Delkin Frostreaver’s son?”
A swell of hope blooms in the link. “Are you Avastad?”
“My name is Gensted. Avastad was my father.”
“Was…” I frown. Delkin figured he’d be gone, but I hope it doesn’t hinder what we’re here to do. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It was a long time ago. My uncles told me many stories about Delkin Frostreaver. I wasn’t aware he lived long enough to have a son. I heard he was exiled and disappeared.”
“He’s still alive. It’s a long, complicated story. One there will be plenty of time for later. Right now, I’m hoping we can discuss something far more important.”
Gensted looks between Tania and me. I don’t miss the way his gaze catches hers, lingers for just a moment too long, then sweeps the square. “You have my attention.”
“I have a proposition for you,” I say. “One that might save your court.”