Chapter 40
Chapter Forty
Neve
Watching his mate cross the battlefield almost broke him.
She looked so small atop Alastor. He held his breath as the human entourage closed around Lia, cutting her off from his view. He stared after her for a long time, not able to take his eyes from the horizon. It was the right decision but . . .
“I do not like it,” he finally admitted.
It was supposed to be simple. Show the soldiers she was alive and deal with Randa. He doubted it would stop whatever plot the Asteran monarchs were planning, but it would steal the fervor of their men.
And morale mattered.
“Neither do I,” Olwen growled, his mount shimmying underneath him. The berserker released his reins and stretched his fingers before curling them into trembling fists. “I say we move closer. Something does not feel right.”
Neve’s sentiments exactly.
“That would be seen as an act of aggression,” Flyka warned. “It could jeopardize the reilleve’s life.”
He worried about that too. The Asterans had agreed too easily for this parley. It was just too convenient. What if this was just all a show to get Dahlia within their grasp? Perhaps they would kill her in camp and somehow manage to blame it on Loriia?
“You’re growling again,” Flyka muttered, inspecting the tip of her silver braid.
He swallowed down the sound and waited. It was one thing to be bonded, and another to lose it in front of his warriors. All over a little saloes.
Minutes took hours.
The storm worsened.
Then an explosion.
He stared at the plume of smoke and fire, his hearts in his throat.
Dahlia.
“We ride!” Olwen snarled, the warriors rushing forward in a sea of blue.
Neve swung up onto Anwen and urged him forward.
Please let her be okay.
They met no resistance as they stormed the human camp.
It was utter chaos.
Tents burned. Men fled instead of fighting. And it was being pillaged.
Olwen pumped his fist into the air. “Capture them. Herd them toward the center. No one escapes.”
Neve scanned the sea of tents, and he swore his hearts stopped when he spotted the king’s flamboyant, striped tent burning in the distance.
Blood and curses. Please do not let it be so.
Flyka’s pale hand landed on his forearm. He glanced at his Haunt and she shook her head. “Dahlia’s not in there. Serenity is circling the center of the camp. She would never leave her mistress.”
He scanned the sky and spotted the astrylle, barely visible through the smoke and storm. His relief was short-lived. Wasn’t Olwen corralling all the humans in that area? When backed into a corner, people made poor and desperate decisions.
He nudged his heels into his horse and directed him toward Serenity, Flyka at his side. They battled the few brave saloes who foolishly thought to take them on, but most fled.
The tents widened out, revealing a muddy common area.
He gaped at the scene.
The soldiers had turned on their officers.
The well-fed finer looking men had been strapped down to the sagging tables, bloodied and bruised, the scent of blood, ash, smoke, and refuse in the air.
Fires raged everywhere. Loriian warriors corralled more soldiers into the open area.
The humans jostled together, their fearful and angry eyes darting between the frost giants and their officers.
And on the opposite side was Dahlia, astride Neve’s war horse.
They paced in front of a group of scared, half-naked valles.
In one hand she brandished his dagger, reins in the other.
Her hair had tumbled loose around her face, a stark contrast to the black crown and dirty velvet gown.
An inky wing was painted onto the side of her face.
He’d never seen anything more beautiful.
Neve directed Anwen toward her, catching her warning as he drew closer to his mate.
“Stop this!” she yelled at a man who thought to grab one of the women. She pointed her blade at him. “One more step and it will be your last.”
The man trembled. “That’s my wife!”
Neve stared the man down, preparing to plow through the crowd to get to his wife if need be.
Dahlia glanced at the women. “Is this true? Which one of you?”
A trembling petite valles stepped away from the sobbing huddle of saloes. “Me.”
“And do you want to go with this man? You do not have to if you don’t want to. I will keep you safe. The Loriians will keep you safe.”
Neve swallowed hard. She meant every single word.
“I just want to go home with my husband,” the woman sniffed.
“Then go,” Lia said with a nod.
The pair of saloes ran to each other and the man stripped off his jacket and wrapped it around her thin, bare shoulders before pulling her into his embrace. Neve watched them, his gaze moving back to his wife. She scanned the crowd and licked her lips. She had something to say.
“This needs to stop,” she said, but the din of the crowd was too loud.
Not taking his eyes off his queen, the Frost King slammed his sword against his shield. His warriors followed suit until they’d closed ranks around the common area, the humans trapped like a barrel full of writhing fish.
The shouts died down, leaving unease and fear teeming in the air. He knew what the humans saw: a wall of their enemies surrounding them.
An electric shock hit him when Dahlia locked gazes with Neve.
Relief and gratitude shone in her unique eyes.
He nodded to her and tilted his head to the soldiers.
These were her people. While he would love nothing more than to utterly destroy his enemy, the longer he looked at the humans, the more pity he felt for them.
They were skinny, filthy, and exhaustion blanketed them all.
A scream pierced the air.
Neve’s attention darted to a man who had stabbed a tied up officer in the hand.
“Enough!” Dahlia bellowed. Her gaze swept everyone, latching onto the burly man who’d stabbed the officer. “Why are we fighting each other? Hasn’t there been enough pain and suffering? Enough violence? This needs to end now.” Her voice rang clear and loud.
“They have to pay for their lies!” the man cried.
Grumbles of agreement rolled through the soldiers. Neve sidled a little closer. The tide of the crowd could turn any minute and he would not allow his mate to bear the brunt of their anger.
“Do you really think that your officers knew that I was alive?” She glanced around the arena, pacing back and forth on top of Alastor. “They are victims just as much as you are. They are not your enemy. The king and queen orchestrated this war because of their greed.”
“There needs to be blood for what has been taken from us,” another brave man yelled.
A few cheers from the crowd.
You can do this, jaivelle. Do not lose control of them.
“That might be so, but that is a matter for the courts, not for us,” Dahlia stated.
“The Asteran monarchs have been lying to you. Been stealing your family, your children, and your wives for their own selfish gain. But I will stand by no more. Today, I stand against them. They have taken too much from everyone. Enough is enough.”
“Why should we listen to you? You are a royal. You are just as guilty,” another solider shouted.
This was going to go south. Neve moved a little closer, ready to jump in.
“Let her have this,” Flyka muttered from behind him. “They will take it better from her than from you. She is human, you are not.”
He gritted his teeth but waited. If Lia needed him, he would be there.
“I am not their daughter,” she hissed. “I disowned them the moment they sold me to the Loriian throne.” Neve couldn’t look away from the fierceness of her expression.
“You know what? Living with giants of the north taught me who the real monsters are. The Asteran monarchs.” She stabbed a finger at the burning tent.
“The blood in my veins doesn’t control me.
I make my own path, as can you. Today, you can choose to take your power back and punish those who have brought our people to the brink of starvation.
All you have to do is lay down your arms and walk away. ”
“And the Loriians? Will they let us walk away?” a Fierran called.
Neve eyed the troll from the Fire Nation who sat on the fence surrounding the training arena. He had a lazy, impish energy, one that reminded him of Olwen. He wore black leather as his compatriots did.
The mercenaries.
Neve glanced between the vallos and his wife. Something had passed between the two that spoke of familiarity. What business did Dahlia have with this male?
“The frost giants have no quarrel with you personally, only those who broke their word.” She looked to Neve. He held her gaze and nodded once. Slavery had been banished years prior. They would let the humans leave as long as they didn’t take up arms against the Loriians.
Neve straightened on his horse and Flyka growled, “Don’t do it. You become more of a target.”
He ignored her. “I am King of Loriia.” Wide terrified eyes flew in his direction. “And I vow that you will be safe if you leave this place and my people alone.”
“What if we wish to punish the throne?” the same Fierran shouted, a challenge in his gaze.
“Then we ride together and do it ourselves,” Neve replied. He had never wanted to expand Loriia, only longed for peace and prosperity for his kingdom. Now it seemed that the humans could not be trusted to govern themselves. The Loriians would have to do it for them.
The Fierran grinned, his attention moving back to Dahlia. “My lady, will you lead us?”
Neve stared at his wide-eyed mate. She scanned the crowd, determination eventually settling over her features.
“It would be my honor. The royals’ tyranny ends today.
I will rip Allium from the amber throne by her hair if I must.” She pointed at the king’s flaming tent.
“And I will burn their greed and depravity from Astera so we can live the way we were meant to!”
Serenity dropped from the sky and landed on Dahlia’s shoulder. A goddess and her familiar.
The crowd exploded into cheers and then began to chant, “Queen Dahlia. Queen Dahlia. Queen Dahlia.”
The Frost King stared in wonder at the reilleve.
She’d swayed the Asteran army.
Prevented a bloodbath.
And rose from the ashes like a mizareth.
Neve had never been prouder.
Or more terrified.
Florrant would be theirs.
And they would rule it all.
Together.
Continue the Entangled with Trickery series:
Tarnished Heir