Chapter 12
Zadriel
“Where are we going?” Aedlin demanded for the umpteenth time, adjusting her hold on Darius. A sling kept the babe close to her bosom, the fur lining of her mahogany coat protecting him from the harsh winds while he babbled away, chewing on his drool-coated fist.
Zadriel sighed through his nose, whispers of lavender enveloped in embers flirting with his senses.
Remnants of a dream. One he hardly understood.
Heaven and hell warred in his mind, the burnt husk of the Mother Tree taunting him while he stared at his mate, enduring the fury in her eyes... until his brother found them.
He swallowed, ignoring Aedlin. Looking past her, toward the looming tree line awaiting them on the other side of the snow-covered field. Sparse sprigs of straw poked through the surface, their brittle forms snapping beneath his boots. Galdon’s Crossing wasn’t far.
All roads in Berwick led to Galdon’s Crossing, the vibrant village a center for trade and commerce, with rich farmland on its outskirts.
While a warm fire and a soft bed sounded like heaven, they wouldn’t be making their way to an inn.
Their bags swayed with every step Zadriel took, straps chafing his woolen cloak—they barely held enough food for himself.
It might offend the queen’s sensibilities, but Zadriel intended to play thief.
“We’ll need to stock up on food and supplies before we continue toward Baith,” Zadriel finally said, the dishonesty sour on his tongue. They were indeed headed toward Baith—his Fae nature wouldn’t allow him to speak untruths. They simply wouldn’t stop there.
Brennan waited in Eden. For word from a son who’d never return. Zadriel hoped Darius would be enough to staunch his wrath. At least, somewhat.
“Baith?” Aedlin asked, turning to look at him.
Darius studied the sharp angles on Zadriel’s face with innocent, multicolored eyes. They were too much—he could hardly stand them.
“Unless you’d like to lose your head, I’m afraid we need to travel as far from Moldenna as we can.” Zadriel motioned for them to continue onward, but Aedlin refused, her gaze narrowing.
“Dother never mentioned a brother.”
It was strange, hearing Cillian be referred to by his last name. A formality among royals, he assumed.
Zadriel shrugged. “Yet here I am.”
“Hidden under a cloak with few words to offer.” She moved closer, peering at his face as if she could see past the shadows made by his hood. “Tell me, Zadriel, how do you really know Dother?”
His body tensed, throat clenching while too many lies died on his tongue. “We grew up together.”
“In Eldenna?
Fuck.
“In a cottage near the Forest,” he said curtly, crossing his arms.
“A cottage?” Aedlin scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief. “Dother was a Lord. Lords do not live in cottages.”
A soft cry startled them both—Darius fussed in Aedlin’s arms, his hand pressed against his lips.
He needed to eat. Aedlin didn’t react—it was odd, the way she behaved with him, holding him close and caring for his needs, but never doing more than the minimum.
As if she were detached. Unbonded. Though, Zadriel supposed, there was little room for smiles and lullabies while they were running for their lives.
“Care for your child, Aedlin.” Zadriel adjusted his cloak, eyeing the sun as if his will alone could control its trajectory. “I’d like to make it to Galdon’s Crossing by nightfall.”
The way she tipped her chin up and stared down her nose at him was nothing less than impressive. “You address me with too much familiarity. It’s Your Majesty or my queen.”
He chuckled bitterly. “I’m afraid that’s no longer the case.”
Zadriel hardly cared for nobility or the courtly games of Berwick—they’d never mattered to Arcadians, so long as the Forest was left alone.
If not for the way Halflings suffered, Eden might have followed the same edict, but their strife made them hate the royals.
How could they not? The end of the Crown, however, was something Zadriel couldn’t celebrate—Cillian shared Aedlin’s downfall.
The hollow ache in his chest, where Cillian’s tether once lived, pulsed along with his heart. A quiet pain that refused to ease.
Their bags knocked Aedlin's shoulder as Zadriel turned away and marched through the snow. He wouldn’t go far—she deserved some privacy while she breastfed. Or so he thought, until snow squeaked beneath her boots, the fallen queen following behind.
Please, let the arguing stop, he grumbled in his mind, bracing himself for her clever words.
Instead, Aedlin fisted his hood and tore it free.
Damn the Mother!
Turning to face her, Zadriel bared his teeth, a low growl rumbling in his chest. “You have no right to touch me!”
A soft gasp slid through Aedlin’s lips, her amber gaze wide.
Her focus raked over his raven hair, following his cheekbones before pausing on his glittering black eyes.
Then, she settled on his ears, locked onto their delicate points.
Wrapping her arms around Darius, she took a step back. Then another. And another.
“You’re Fae,” Aedlin muttered, cold horror coating the words. Within a blink, she ran for the trees.