Chapter 2 #2
He tells of King Caledor’s wrath unleashed upon humans and the half-fae rebellion.
How Lord Arc fell in love with a human woman only to be betrayed by her.
That the king cursed his son and then fled Silverveil, vowing to return five-hundred years later to plunge the realm into his darkness.
Thorn speaks of the portals created by fae to allow half-bloods to flee.
How he believes portals appeared to allow descendants of the half-blood fae to return to their homeland and finish what was started centuries before—the prophecy that haunted King Caledor, of a half-blood fae woman overthrowing him, forever restoring peace and balance to all of Silverveil.
I pick at the delicate skin of my nail bed, watching the faces of the gathered fae.
Soren sits idle by my side, his palm now resting atop my knee.
His thumb slowly brushes back and forth over the fabric of my leggings.
His face remains a picture of stone as he waits to hear the reaction of the council.
When Thorn finishes speaking, silence hangs in the air like a thick fog. Inquisitive eyes shift from Thorn, to me, to Soren, and back again before someone speaks.
One of the women glances at me. “So, there’s to be a war, then?
” Her voice is as intimidating and alluring as she is.
She’s a striking female with deep brown skin, warm chestnut eyes, and stark white hair that flows to her lower back.
Large, opulent white feathered wings are tucked in close behind her.
They look so delicate and strong at the same time, much like the woman herself.
Despite her look of apathy, something flashes in her eyes. Like the flicker of a lantern that’s long been dark.
Soren straightens in his chair. “It appears as though the Cauldron would like to see to it.”
My throat bobs and I cross my legs to ease the restlessness coursing through my veins.
I don’t know what this means for me. We are almost fifty years from the king’s alleged return and if time moves the same here as it does back home, I’ll nearly be an octogenarian when he arrives.
My aging won’t stop. Air gets stuck in my throat when I think about Soren outliving me.
We haven’t talked about it, and I can’t find it within myself to bring it up.
To slice open a wound that will bleed me dry.
I’ll tell him to move on. Find another love without me, even if it breaks my heart to think about him loving someone else. But he deserves happiness, and if I can’t be with him forever, the least I can do is encourage him to find happiness wherever he can. If we make it out of all this.
Merric strokes his overgrown tangle of facial hair while his brow forms deep creases on his forehead. “Aye. Most of us have never seen war. We will need to start training straight away if there’s any hope of defeating the dark king.”
Soren’s face turns grim. “I know. Which is why we need you all to spread the word to your strongest people. Those ready and willing to fight.”
The striking female perks up. “Telling our people that there is a forthcoming war from the darkest ruler in our history is going to cause utter chaos.” Her eyes flit to me. “King Caledor has only been known as a fable among our people. Silverveil has known relative peace in ?our lifetimes.”
Soren’s lips harden. “I know, Numara, I know.”
Numara. I commit her name to memory.
Beside her, a female sprite with golden curls framing her delicate face looks downright panic stricken. “What if people try to flee our land? Hollowbrook is so near the water that I fear my people will seek safety elsewhere, putting themselves in harm’s way.”
I try to keep from gawking, but her shimmering green skin and bright yellow eyes command my attention. Delicate gossamer wings are tucked snuggly to her back. When I imagine a faerie, she is the living embodiment of it.
Thorn speaks clearly, the logic flowing through his voice.
“We will not stop anyone from leaving, Moira. It is everyone’s choice whether they stay or seek asylum elsewhere, and we cannot judge them if they choose to do so.
But we have to hope that we will prevail and know eternal peace once the king is defeated. ”
I nearly forget about the male fae beside Numara until he speaks, making me jolt.
“And where shall we have our warriors train? Whispering Glen is so near the Northern Shadows that it’s likely to draw attention to our impending revolt.
We don’t know what the cursed lord is planning.
He could be eager for his father’s return for all we know.
And Riverholm is such a far distance for an infant army to travel.
” He looks at his hands, picking his nails without giving anyone a single glance.
Thorn tips his chin. “That’s an excellent question, Estis. Perhaps a more central location, such as Larkspire or Eldersmoor, would be more fitting for a central training camp.”
Merric’s shoulders tense. “Larkspire is such a small village compared to Eldersmoor. We will need enough provisions to clothe, shelter, and feed the warriors.” He narrows his eyes at Numara. “Eldersmoor would be the better choice.”
Numara scoffs and arches an eyebrow. “You’re just a greedy bastard, Merric. Would rather hoard goods for yourself and your people than offer up what may be best for all of Silverveil.”