40. Shadows and Vines
H e felt the shift in the atmosphere even before he awoke to Raif’s insistent voice calling his name from the hall—it was subtle, only barely there, but insidious. Kael had ruled over Unseelie territory for long enough that he was very nearly one with it. He knew when something had changed. He could sense when it was under threat.
So he was unsurprised by the hard set of Raif’s jaw and the determined gleam in his dark eyes when the male said, “The perimeter guard spotted the Seelie army closing in.”
The army’s arrival had come far sooner than even Kael predicted, but with their Queen’s fury fueling them, it was unlikely that they’d stopped to make camp even once since departing the Seelie dominions. He was out of time .
Behind him, Aisling sat tangled in his fur blankets, clutching one against her bare chest. The fire in the hearth beside her, which had before been raging, had burned down to smoldering embers. Glowing shades of red and orange rippled across her pale skin. When Kael turned to look at her, she was focused straight ahead on the doorway where he stood with Raif. She was so still that he could hardly tell whether she was breathing.
“A moment,” Kael told Raif, and closed the door. Then, to Aisling, he said, “It’s time.”
She shook her head. “It’s too soon,” she protested.
Kael took several steps towards her, then held out his hand. She took it and he pulled her to her feet. He grasped her chin gently and tipped her face up. “We are ready for this. You are ready for this.”
“I don’t think I am,” she argued, her voice a quiet whisper.
“I know that you are. I can see it.” Kael tightened his hold on her chin just slightly to keep her there with him. “Fate does not choose the weak, Aisling.”
A smile, then—almost as faint as her voice, but it raised the corners of her lips enough that he was satisfied. Kael moved to the chest against the wall and began sifting through the pieces of his armor and battle leathers until he found his chainmail tunic. The cool material moved fluidly between his fingers when he withdrew it and passed it to Aisling.
“Put this on,” he said. She pulled it over her head, layering it between a shirt and a heavy sweater. It fell to her thighs, far too big for her frame, but it was light and strong and its protection would give him some comfort while they were apart .
Kael’s confidence in their plan grew with each strap he deftly fastened, and once he was finally clad in that black, black armor, he felt sure that they would succeed. His magic roiled and writhed beneath his skin, though not uncomfortably this time. Ready to be unleashed, but not beyond his control. A strength now, rather than a threat.
Lyre and Rodney had joined Raif in the passageway; Kael could hear their voices through the door. He approached Aisling where she stood watching him dress.
“Stay close to Lyre,” he told her. Gently, he pulled her hair from where it was stuck beneath the collar of her moss green cloak. His fingers paused when they brushed against her neck, then he slid his hand around to rest at its nape.
“I’m afraid,” Aisling admitted. Tears welled in her eyes and spilled down her face when she tried to blink them back.
“It is alright to be afraid.” Kael’s chest constricted, his heart squeezing as he leaned down and kissed away each falling tear. “You have been brave for long enough; let me have a turn. You’ve given me all the hope I need to see this through.”
“Ready?” Rodney asked, peeking his head into the chamber.
Kael brushed his lips over Aisling’s forehead one final time, then nodded and said, “Ready.”
“I was thinking,” Rodney started as Aisling and Kael stepped into the hall, pausing mid-sentence to draw in a breath. “I was thinking that it would make the most sense if I go with Kael.”
Aisling balked visibly. “What? No. I need you with me.”
“I’ll be there with you for the rite, Ash,” he insisted quickly. “But Laure knows you and I are rarely far apart. If she sees me with him, she’ll be more likely to follow.”
Kael raised an eyebrow, surprising even himself when he conceded, “The púca makes a decent point.”
“I liked it better when you two weren’t getting along,” Aisling muttered. Kael chuckled at this, and with one last gentle squeeze of her hand, he let Lyre take her arm and lead her off down the passageway. He watched until she disappeared around a corner, then turned back to Raif and Rodney.
“You have a weapon?” he asked Rodney. His bright hair flopped when he nodded yes, and he patted a thin sword that hung from his belt. It was undoubtedly one of Raif’s, and likely little more than a travel blade, but its size suited the púca’s slender frame.
The three males walked quickly in the opposite direction from where Aisling and Lyre had gone. Rodney strayed ahead, but Raif remained in lockstep alongside Kael to update him on each company’s position and readiness.
“I changed the positions of the First and Second Companies—there was a gap in the frontline, larger than it seemed on the board. And close to fifty additional foot soldiers arrived in the night from the western villages in Veladryn,” Raif said.
Kael’s jaw tightened. He would be foolish to deny his army the additional numbers, but these volunteers were untrained and would be underprepared for a battle of this magnitude. He thought of the Solitary Fae conscripted by the Seelie army, how they were sent to the Nyctara front with shoddy weapons and ill-fitting armor. The relative ease with which he and his Unseelie warriors had felled every one of them.
“Position them in the far rear,” he commanded tersely. “Their first directive should be to protect the Undercastle unless needed at the front.”
“Highness?” Methild called after him, scurrying to catch up from the far end of the corridor where she had likely been on her way to Kael’s chamber.
He stopped to wait for her, then said to Rodney and Raif, “Go ahead.”
“I’ve not yet polished your boots or your sword,” Methild rasped, breathless by the time she made it to stand in front of Kael. She examined at his feet, dismayed by several faint scuffmarks on the metal.
He shook his head. “That will not be necessary.”
“It will take no time at all,” she argued. Kael regarded her for a moment. Stooped with age now, she stood only waist high beside him, but she was no less strong than she’d been when he was first brought to the Undercastle and she’d sworn her service to him.
He realized that he’d never once thanked her—it had never even occurred to him to do so. The old hob, who’d served him since he was learning to serve the Prelates and the Low One, had been steadfast in her duties. She’d borne the brunt of his cruelty time and again, and yet had cared for him at his weakest. Had brought him gifts when he was small to soothe his temper, and had continued to do so even now. He thought of the jar with the Luna moth that she’d quietly left for him before Nocturne, knowing the dark place his fear of failure could send him to. She was kind when he hadn’t deserved it.
Kael knelt before her and took one of her wizened hands in his. “Thank you, Methild.”
“I—” she squeaked, eyes wide with surprise, then cleared her throat. “It is my honor, Your Highness.”
Kael rose to his feet. “Gather the other workers and go deeper. The Undercastle will keep you safe.” It was true—even if Seelie soldiers managed to gain entry, the labyrinthine tunnels would brook no intrusion much further than the throne room. The twisting, winding passageways would sooner lead the soldiers to madness than to the stronghold of the structure’s heart.
“She’ll see us here?” Rodney gazed down from the crest of the knoll, eyes scanning the tree line. He sat astride a dappled mare and toyed with the reins. Ahead, every tall pine shivered with the thunderous footfall of the advancing Seelie forces. Kael settled his weight into Furax’s saddle and watched as Raif rode up and down the frontline, making final adjustments to positions and speaking directly with each company commander. As much as Kael wished he was doing the same, he had a greater purpose now. Raif was a fine commander; Kael had no doubt he would lead the Unseelie army with the same unwavering ferocity that Kael would have himself.
“I will be the first target she seeks out,” Kael assured Rodney. Only moments after he’d spoken those words, the first Seelie warriors appeared from the verdant darkness of the forest. Their pale golden armor glimmered in the waning moonlight as they approached with the dawn. A low horn sounded then, a call to arms, and the Unseelie warriors drove forward in full force. Kael’s hand rose instinctively to the pommel of his longsword and his shadows surged, but he remained still, searching.
Until he found his mark.
Laure entered the battlefield on foot, shoulders back, chin high. Her raven hair billowed out behind her. It cast nearly as stark of a contrast against her golden chainmail as Kael’s pale hair did against his black armor. His ribs felt as though they might crack under the growing, insistent pressure of his magic, so he let several tendrils reach from his fingertips. They stretched lazily toward the sounds of battle, only as far as he allowed. They came alive when the first drops of blood were spilled from the stomach of a Solitary pixie that was struck mid-flight by an arrow. She dropped heavily down into the growing fray below.
The next body to fall was an Unseelie warrior, one of Garrick’s, from the Fourth Company. It was a swift death, but brutal all the same. The weight of Kael’s responsibilities as King—responsibilities that had for so long been overshadowed by his greed and lust for power—bore down on him then, a crushing burden. A torrent of thoughts cascaded through his mind. Fear clawed at him, threatening to strip away the fa?ade of composure he so carefully maintained, eating away at the confidence he’d felt only moments before.
It was the sensation of his magic writhing beneath his skin that brought him back from those thoughts. They could feel her, too, his shadows. They could feel the Seelie Queen’s magic, the purest form of creation which she used now to strangle and destroy. Her vines crept forward through her ranks. Her warriors danced around the snaking plants as they reached up, savagely tearing at Kael’s soldiers. They struck at the vines with their blades, but no sooner had they severed one than three more grew back in its place.
But Laure’s focus wasn’t on battle formations or the advancing line; her violet eyes darted back and forth, searching just as Kael had. The fury burning behind them was palpable, and her magic was stronger for it. Niamh remained close by her side, lips pulled back in a vicious snarl.
Before he’d left Raif to ride out with Rodney, Kael had firmly grasped his captain’s arm, and Raif had responded in kind. Kael ordered Raif to take Niamh, but no further words were exchanged between the two males. No further words were needed. They were as close as brothers—while Raif didn’t know the extent of the plan, he’d surely guessed by now.
“There,” Rodney pointed towards Raif, who was now plunging through the clashing soldiers, aiming his warhorse straight for Niamh. She’d noticed him, too, and held her longsword at the ready. Kael drove a heel into Furax’s flank and she reared, letting out a sharp bray that echoed across the field and found Laure’s keen ears. She turned her attention towards Kael and Rodney and broke into a run in their direction. Distracted now, Niamh paid no attention to her queen’s flight. By the time she would turn to look, Laure would be lost amidst the swords and spears and shots of magic .
Kael and Rodney both pulled their mounts into a swift gallop, first head-on towards Laure before veering off for the tree line. Laure let out a scream as she ran, a guttural war cry. Kael pulled Furax to slow, allowing Rodney the distance to disappear into the forest ahead of him. He would dismount there and continue on foot to join Aisling and Lyre in The Cut, with Kael and Laure just behind.
Kael could hear Laure’s vines whispering, curling, reaching for him. His shadows reached back, withering those that drew too close. They were quick, though—a vine as thick as his arm caught one of Furax’s hooves and sent the mare careening. Kael reacted reflexively, working his boots from the stirrups before the creature hit the ground. He rolled away from Furax as she struggled back to her feet and used that forward momentum to propel himself into a run.
Laure was still behind him; she roared again when he recovered without faltering. The distance between them was closing rapidly, and when Kael raced into the forest, Laure ran in after him without hesitation. So blinded by her own rage that she could think of nothing but running down the Unseelie King who had slaughtered first her subjects, then her favorite toy.
She was singularly focused; now, Kael knew, she would follow him anywhere.