Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
Phillip tasted the stale air in the army tent.
It was thick with the scent of sweat and smoke.
His wrists were bound tightly behind him.
The skin chafed against the coarse rope.
The raw flesh stung with every shift. The ache in his shoulders grew sharper.
But it was the sounds outside that held his focus.
Shouts of alarm. The thunderous crash of something heavy falling.
The eerie howl of wolves blending with human screams. He caught the sharp, splintering crack of trees—a sound that normally would have filled him with dread—but this time, he recognized it for what it was. The forest was fighting back.
His heart swelled with pride. Mal had done it.
She’d rallied the forest folk, the creatures, and the land itself to rise against their enemies.
He could see her in his mind’s eye, fierce and unyielding, the very embodiment of nature’s wrath and power.
This was the woman he loved—unstoppable, vicious, and victorious.
With the pride came an ache, a heavy sadness settling in his chest. He knew too well the cost of such battles.
Every triumphant roar of the forest was mirrored by the cries of those who fell—human and fae alike.
Lives were being lost, wounds inflicted, and even more division between his people and hers was likely being sown.
A quiet rustle pulled him from his thoughts, and he glanced up. His guard—a young soldier with a weary face, his eyes cast down—stood by the tent’s flap. He cast a nervous glance outside. Shadows flickered as torches lit up the surrounding darkness.
“Not going well out there?”
The young man shifted, caught off guard.
Something hesitant flickered in his eyes.
“My neighbor’s son is a fae. That boy, he.
.. he always helps my mother with her garden, especially her herb garden.
If it wasn't for him, I'd be eating tasteless foods. I was just wondering if he was out there… fighting.”
"There shouldn't be sides, not when we are neighbors."
"I agree." His words were almost a whisper.
Phillip seized the chance. “Then help me. Untie me, and we’ll find a way to make this right.”
The young man’s gaze flickered with uncertainty, but he took a step forward. His hands reached for the knots. Phillip held his breath, waiting, willing the guard’s resolve to hold.
The tent flap whipped open. His chances were lost. It would be Lord Queros come to end him. Or worse, take him back to Aurora as a bargaining chip.
Mal strode in, her presence commanding and fierce. She was drenched in forest magic, her dark eyes alight with determination, and for a moment, he forgot everything but the sight of her.
“You’re late.”
“I was on my way.” Phillip grinned, leaning into her glare. “Made a new friend in the meantime.”
The guard gulped when Mal turned a hard look on him. It was her murderous look. The one that had made Phillip fall in love with her. Surprisingly, it didn't have the same effect with other males. Their loss.
The young man took a step back. His hands dropped from Phillip’s bonds as he silently conceded. He may have wet his pants a little, but Phillip was too decent to point that out.
With a snap of her fingers, Mal handled the knots that bound him. The ropes, which were made of hemp, fell away with a soft thud to the ground. His fingers tingled with returning circulation, but he reached for her.
The warmth of her skin, her wild, earthy scent, filled his senses like the forest itself had come alive within her.
He leaned in, pressing his lips to hers.
The kiss tasted of her magic, of rain-drenched soil and sun-warmed leaves.
A flood of life and relief stole his breath, melding both their sighs of relief into a single exhale.
“Seems you’ve got things well in hand.” Phillip rested his forehead against Mal's.
“Not if you keep needing rescuing.”
Phillip chuckled softly, the sound more relief than humor. Mal wasn’t done. She tugged him closer for another kiss. This one was slower, deeper, as if reclaiming a piece of him that had been missing for years. He let her strength seep into him like a balm over old wounds.
“The machines are down. The earth is devouring them as we speak. The leadership, including Lord Queros, has surrendered.”
Relief surged through Phillip, so potent it nearly buckled his knees. He exhaled shakily, his shoulders sagging as the tension began to drain from him. “It’s over.”
“No, not yet.”
Mal’s next words hit like a blow. Her voice, when she spoke, was dark, cold and resolute.
“Now to the castle to kill the princess.”
For the first time since the fighting began, Phillip wasn’t sure they wanted the same victory. He stepped back, searching his beloved's face for any hint of hesitation.
Mal's expression was as unyielding as stone. No, not stone. Iron.