Chapter 19
ISABEL
Gideon lands in a clearing outside Hollins, then gently sets me on my feet.
He takes a moment to comb out my hair with his fingers, a sweet habit of his that I’m coming to adore.
I wait patiently as I lean into his touch, grateful for the quiet, intimate moment that feels like the calm before a storm.
My gaze darts through the trees. Though the sun hasn’t quite risen, Hollins is as brightly illuminated as the last time I was there due to the flaming torches lining the streets. I spot only a few passersby moving through the town.
After Gideon finishes tending to my hair, he takes my hand and leads me toward the town.
Dread presses down on me with every step.
His grip tightens, as though he fears I might attempt to slip away.
He remains tense, on high alert as we approach the inn, his gaze sweeping the streets for any sign of soldiers.
When he catches sight of two uniformed males in the distance, bows strapped to their backs, I sense his growing anger, as well as his anticipation for the battle to come.
Hoping to comfort him, I squeeze his hand and send him a wave of warmth, but I sense it does little to calm his simmering rage.
Relief fills me when the soldiers disappear into an alleyway. I pray we don’t encounter any more during our time in Hollins this morning. Thankfully, we reach the inn without incident, and Gideon uses his winter magic to unlock the door.
We slip inside and hear nothing. It would seem everyone is still asleep, even the proprietor and his servants.
My stomach twists with worry as we quietly climb the steps.
I’m glad we’ll be able to warn my father about the impending battle, but I can’t help but think about all the innocent lives that will be lost.
When a brief growl sounds in Gideon’s throat, I know he’s heard my thoughts and takes exception to them.
But he quickly sends me a wave of affection that feels like an apology.
He knows I’m entitled to my own thoughts and feelings, and he’s even promised to give me space for my doubts and time to come to terms with the bond we share.
But when it comes to the Frostfall faefolk who lie cold in the forest, he is struggling to maintain control.
I am tempted to kill all the soldiers myself. His voice reverberates in my head. If the Winter Court army wasn’t headed this way, I would not hesitate. They would never see the sun rise again.
I know, I reply. As I hold his hand and our minds continue brushing against one another, I feel a dangerous spark of rebellion rising within him. For the first time since he joined the Winter Court army, he is tempted to defy King Theron’s orders.
But even as that thought takes root, I sense the control he’s trying to maintain.
He knows he must think of our bond and of his constituents.
If he is to resign his position as a commander and return to Frostfall to gather the rest of his people, he will need the king’s support to do it safely.
And more than anything, he refuses to put me in danger by acting recklessly.
You will have your revenge soon enough, Gideon, I say through the bond. But I can’t help but spare another thought for all the innocents from Hollins who will undoubtedly perish during the attack.
We reach the upstairs hallway, and I take a moment to gaze at the paintings of shipwrecks.
However, I’m not really interested in them.
I’m stalling. I’m nervous about seeing my father again.
This won’t be a happy reunion. We’re here to warn him about an impending attack.
An attack he’ll know is coming but won’t be able to warn others about.
Knowing my father and his compassionate nature, he will agonize over his inability to spread the word and perhaps save a few lives.
But Gideon intends to glamour him into compliance, and I sense there is no changing the stubborn fae male’s mind.
Part of me understands his bloodlust. If someone hurt my father or even Gideon, I suspect I would crave some form of vengeance too.
But not the conquest of an entire town. Not the slaughter of innocents.
Gideon pulls me forward and taps lightly on my father’s door so as not to disturb the other guests. From within, I hear rustling, followed by footsteps and low murmuring. Tears burn in my eyes. My father tends to talk to himself when he’s anxious. Hearing it now makes my chest tighten.
The door swings open, and my father stares at us in shock.
“Isabel.” Papa searches my face. “Something is wrong, isn’t it?”
I give a slight nod, unable to find my voice.
“Come in,” he says, stepping aside as he holds the door open.
Gideon places a hand on my lower back, guiding me inside. We move to the center of the tiny room. My father shuts the door, turns to face us, and immediately narrows his eyes at Gideon.
“We came to warn you,” I whisper. “In about one week, the Winter Court army will attack Hollins.”
Papa looks away from Gideon and meets my eyes. His expression is filled with alarm and perhaps a bit of disbelief. He draws in a breath, preparing to speak, only for Gideon to interrupt him.
“If you remain inside the inn, you will be safe. I will make sure my people know this building isn’t to be touched. Everyone inside will be spared.”
“Oh, gods.” My father’s face turns ashen. “Over five thousand people call this town home. Why are you…” His voice trails off, and a vacant look enters his eyes as he briefly sways on his feet.
Winter magic. Gideon has just glamoured him.
My heart breaks a little, and I swallow back a sob. I don’t like seeing my father like this. I didn’t mind so much when Gideon glamoured him to make him keep the gold, but this is different. My father’s innate kindness, his desire to help others, is being suppressed.
“For your safety, Mr. Sinclair, you will remain inside the inn until the battle is long over, and you will not tell anyone about the impending attack.”
My father murmurs something unintelligible under his breath. Eventually, he nods and turns to stare out the window, as though he’s no longer aware of our presence.
Gideon grasps my hand. “There. It is done. Your father will survive the battle, and so will anyone else who stays inside this establishment during the attack.”
He means the proprietor, the servants, and the other guests. I suppose that’s something. A few innocent lives that will be spared. But oh, how I wish more could be saved.
“Goodbye, Papa,” I whisper.
When he just stares out the window, still wearing a dazed look, I find myself blinking back more tears.
“Come. We must leave.” Gideon sweeps a hand over his face, putting his human disguise back in place. He guides me into the hallway, shutting the door on the way out, sealing my father in the safety of his room.
He’s going to survive, I tell myself. I’ll see him again.
“Yes,” Gideon murmurs, having heard my thoughts.
I’m grateful we don’t encounter anyone as we depart the inn, but my spirits sink when I glimpse more people on the streets than when we first arrived.
I try not to look at them as we head down the main road that leads out of town, but I inevitably keep glancing at their faces, illuminated by the torchlight.
Keep walking, little moth, Gideon sends down the bond, his voice gentle, though I sense his unease. He’s starting to wish he hadn’t brought me along. He thinks it would be easier for me if I had stayed at the cabin.
Maybe he’s right.
Just as we reach the edge of town, I spot two familiar faces among the passersby, and my steps falter even as Gideon tries to pull me along.
It’s Mr. and Mrs. Geltrinn.
The same Mr. Geltrinn my father always bought tobacco from on market day back in Braemar. Somehow, he and his wife survived the battle and escaped the locked down city.
I draw in a long breath, ready to shout their names, ready to warn them about the impending attack by the Winter Court army, only for a large hand to clamp over my mouth.
I flail against the hand, my screams muffled, but Gideon quickly drags me into the forest before anyone can notice my distress.
No, he says through the bond, his voice hard as steel. You will not speak to anyone else. You will not warn anyone else.
Please, I beg him, still fighting, still screaming against his hand. Please let me warn them. They’re from Braemar. I know them.
I’m sorry, little moth. I can’t allow you to warn anyone else.
This time, when his deep voice fills my head, his tone is somewhat apologetic.
But I sense his thoughts easily enough. He’s not bothered that the Geltrinns won’t know the attack is coming.
It’s my distress that’s bothering him, and he regrets that he’s being so forceful with me.
Why don’t you just glamour me to be quiet? I ask through the bond, an edge of challenge in my tone.
He doesn’t growl aloud, but I hear the reverberation inside my head, a noise of frustration that courses through the bond.
Still keeping my mouth covered, he continues dragging me through the forest. I kick out a few times, though my feet mostly end up trailing through the frost-covered underbrush.
Tears escape my eyes. I’m furious. And hurt.
Though I knew he wouldn’t allow me to warn anyone but my father, I still feel betrayed. When I saw two people I recognized from Braemar, I hoped he would understand. I hoped he would make an exception.
But he’s a cold Winter Court lord.
He’s a vicious fae commander bent on revenge.
The moment the unkind thoughts surge through the bond, I feel his answering hurt, a sharp wave of despair that makes my chest ache in return.
I go still in his arms. For several heartbeats, neither of us moves. My anger still burns hot beneath my skin, but then reason begins to break through the storm of my emotions. His warning from earlier returns to me—some humans possess enough fae blood to see through glamours.
Oh, gods.
If I had shouted to the Geltrinns, if I had drawn their attention, someone else on the streets might have noticed Gideon. A soldier. A guard. Someone with enough fae ancestry to see past his human disguise.
My breath catches. I might have endangered us both, and this realization drains some of the fury from me, leaving only grief and shame in its wake.
Gideon, I whisper down the bond.
Slowly, he removes his hand from my mouth, though he keeps me close, my back still pressed to his chest for a few seconds longer before turning me to face him. His expression is tight, his jaw clenched, but rather than anger, his eyes are filled with regret.
If you had warned them, he says through the bond, his voice deep and steady, others in Hollins might have learned about the impending battle. Soldiers may have fled. They may have scattered into the mountains and escaped justice. I could not allow that.
Tears sting my eyes. There’s a part of me that still wants to argue, but another part of me that understands.
“I know,” I whisper aloud this time, my voice trembling.
His gaze searches mine, his expression wary.
“I still wish I could have warned them,” I say. “But… I suppose I understand why you stopped me.”
“I know this isn’t easy for you,” he says quietly. “You do not have to like what is coming, little moth.”
A sob lodges in my throat. The thought of the bloodshed to come turns my stomach. Innocent people will die, maybe even the Geltrinns, and though I hate that Gideon’s grief is driving him toward vengeance, a part of me understands why.
“You don’t have to apologize for caring,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead.
Warmth flows through the bond, rolling back and forth between us, a gentle sort of peace that’s filled with understanding and forgiveness. I close my eyes and lean into him, exhausted by all that has transpired this morning.
“Come,” Gideon says. “We must return to the cabin.”
He lifts me into his arms and summons his wings. As he launches into the sky, I glance down at Hollins. The streets are busier now, the people of the town going about their lives, unaware that a thirty-thousand-strong fae army is closing in.
Just one week. In one week, their lives will change forever, just as mine did when the Winter fae conquered Braemar.
Gideon tightens his hold on me, and as he soars over the trees, the town fades from view. Then snow begins to fall, a swirl of white around us that keeps getting heavier. And I realize, with a sinking feeling, that the Winter Court army is truly headed this way.