Chapter 8 – Neve #2
“We might be the only reason he’s allowing you into the city, but we will not be enough to sway him if he doesn’t want you here. You and your court have a plan, right, Isolde?”
“We do,” I whispered back.
Sian broke away and scanned the rest of our party.
Bac, with his Balik features, didn’t fail to garner his interest. Neither did Aleksander, who looked a lot like me.
Or the dwarves bearing house colors I doubted Sian could place.
For centuries, those of Winter’s Realm had believed that Dergia was lost to mountain dust. But it was Saga’s presence that seemed to stump him the most.
“What are you doing here?”
“It’s a long story. One best told over a goblet of mulled wine later tonight.” Saga winked.
“We’ll make that happen.” Sian’s warm, gold eyes landed on Thyra. Knowing sparked there. “Princess Thyra, I presume?”
“Yes, and you’re Lord Balik’s heir?” Thyra asked.
“I’m a Balik, but not the next High Lord of the Southlands.” Sian gestured to Filip, who was still pink-cheeked from Vale’s hug and standing two paces away. “That’s my brother. You can call me Sian.”
“I’m Filip.” The heir ran his hand through his golden-brown hair nervously.
Thyra nodded. “So, are we allowed to enter?”
Sian smirked. “Follow me.”
The Balik brothers led us through the castle.
With each step, I mentally ran through what could happen, hoping Thyra and I might gain another ally today, and praying that the Warden of the South wouldn’t dismiss us.
Or worse, toss us in a dungeon for King Magnus to collect.
And yet, despite being engrossed by the ‘what ifs’, I simultaneously found myself mesmerized by the castle that those of House Balik called home.
The halls were a symphony of black and gold and hunter green, colors of the ruling family. Ramshold was a shockingly bare name for a place I suspected was opulent in every nook and cranny.
“Stop here.” Sian held out a hand at an intersection. “The door is just there. But I don’t think you all should go in. There are simply too many of you.”
“No,” Thyra retorted before I could consider his words. “We all go.”
Sian cast a glance at the vampires. Their heavy cloaks had been enough to disguise them from the curious fae of Myrr, but not Sian. As we walked, I’d heard him whispering to my husband about the trio.
“They’re sworn to us,” I said. “You can trust them.”
“Sworn?”
“As Valkyrja.” Thyra’s chin lifted as she spoke the name of the ancient order of female warriors, the likes of which had not been seen in centuries.
Sian’s eyes widened, and an impressed expression came across his face, but before he could respond, Filip chimed in.
“Father will see their court as a sign of strength. Everyone should come.”
Sian shrugged. “Have it your way.”
We entered the grand hall, and my breath hitched at the beauty before me.
The ceiling of onyx studded with diamonds reminded me of a more luxurious version of the walls in the Tower of the Living and the Dead.
On each wall mountains had been rendered in gold, giving the impression that we stood in a valley beneath a cloudless sky.
Lord Tadgh Balik sat on a seat, black and dark green, with two enormous, golden horns sprouting from the top and curling back. Surely that seat had been a throne, back when the Baliks were the kings and queens of the southlands.
Lady Kilyn Balik stood beside her husband’s seat, her back straight, long red hair braided back. Their many children were present too, fanning out on both sides of their father’s impressive chair. Nothing about this show of unity surprised me when it came to the Baliks.
What I had not expected, however, was to find Lady Marit Armenil, and a member of Vale’s cabal, Sir Qildor, standing just off to the side. And they held hands.
Marit caught me staring, and with her free hand, gave a small wave.
As much as I wanted to know what was going on between them and why my friend was here when she should be in the midlands, I kept striding behind Sian and Filip.
Lord Balik’s glower told me he didn’t wish to wait any longer to hear why two princesses long-thought dead had sought him out.
And the contingent of twenty guards in the hall emphasized the fact that the high lord saw us as a threat.
I was suddenly very glad Thyra hadn’t allowed us to be separated from the rest of our court.
“This is going a touch overboard, Father.” Sian gestured to the guards.
“I’ll be the judge of that.” The high lord’s golden eyes burned through me. Demanding answers.
During my time at Frostveil, Lord Balik had always sounded calm. Soft in the way of a male who was certain of his power and did not need to speak loudly or harshly. Today, restrained anger brimmed in his voice.
I swallowed as I took him in. With golden-brown hair a few shades lighter than Filip’s, dark brown skin, and gold wings, it was easy to see that Lord Tadgh was a Balik.
Heavy gold bangles in the shape of a ram’s head weighed down his wrists, and the faintest dark green tattoo swirled out from the corners of his eyes to his temples.
A striking man made more powerful by his central position in the room and the family motto hanging above him.
The words were in Old High Fae, but I knew just enough of the language to read them.
Family. Honor. Wisdom.
“I allowed you to retrieve them,” the high lord continued. “But now it is I who will speak to this so-called court and determine what is necessary and what is not. Fall in line, my sons.”
Both Filip and Sian cast glances at us, but did as their father said.
“Isolde and Thyra Falk,” Lord Balik continued. “Approach.”
We did, with Vale and Thantrel at our sides. Lord Balik shook his head.
“I did not request your approach, Prince. Nor yours, Thantrel Riis.”
“No one will separate us from our mates,” Vale said loud and clear.
Gasps rippled through the line of Balik children, and I swore I heard Marit squeal.
“Mates . . . I see.” Tadgh Balik shifted in his seat. “I expect there is nothing to be done about that.”
“No, there’s not,” Thantrel replied, shoulders pulled back.
Lord Balik snorted. “I don’t care about your status, Riis. What I care to know is why there are Falk princesses in my city. Why would they bring danger to the southlands?”
“You’ve already done so,” I replied. “Didn’t you leave court without the king’s approval?”
Lord Balik’s eyes narrowed, then swept behind me. I’d bet the fabled sword filled with shadows hanging at my hip that he was glaring at Lord Riis.
“Avaldenn was no longer conducive to the safety of my family.” The Warden of the South lifted his chin ever so slightly.
“What with the vampires hunting you, and the continued undignified matches that the king set—and expected to be fulfilled.” He stared at me.
“Your presence here puts my family in even greater danger. I should chain you two and send you north.”
“I’ll take blame where blame is due. The vampires hunting fae in Avaldenn are there for me, although I hope you believe me when I say I only killed their prince in self-defense.”
“That does not change the issue of my family’s safety.”
“No, but back to the whole sending me north in chains issue.”
Lord Balik was respected as a fair and thoughtful lord.
One who saw sense. I only needed to edge him towards it, make him see that due to his own actions, he wasn’t safe here either.
It didn’t matter if I was here or journeyed all the way to the Summer Kingdom.
Eventually, Magnus would seek revenge on House Balik for disobeying him.
“You don’t believe that King Magnus is a just and good king any longer, so why would you send me to him?”
“I crave peace.”
Internally, I winced. Peace was not something I could give this male in power. Not yet, anyway.
“I recognize what you want. What it will bring to my people. Which is why I do not want you here,” Lord Balik said. “But more importantly, why I must speak with Princess Saga.”
At Vale’s side, Saga appeared, her face bright, hopeful. How? My hope was diminishing. Perhaps turns at court had made her a better actress than I’d thought possible.
“You stand with them, Princess Saga? You betray your blood and bring the possibility of war closer to Winter’s Realm?” Lord Balik asked.
Saga cleared her throat. “We’re hoping that, if you join us, we might avert war entirely.”
“That’s unlikely, Princess. Fanciful even.”
“Perhaps, but it’s clear to me that my father has not been fit to rule for many turns. He harms others, his own people, and I can no longer abide by his actions.”
“You’re not mates with either Princess Thyra or Princess Isolde, yet you’ve sworn to them?”
“I have not,” Saga admitted. “However, I have not ruled it out either. Just as you have seen flaws in the current king, I have too, Lord Balik. I love my father, and truly do not wish him to be harmed, but as I stated, I also cannot stand with him.”
The head of House Balik turned to Vale. “And you, Warrior Bear? You’re the head of your father’s army.
He might be a miserable fae, and done unspeakable things over the turns, but your father loves his children.
I understand that you are mated to Isolde, but could you not have reached a peaceful agreement with your father rather than forsaking him? ”
“For my mate, I’d do anything,” Vale replied, and I didn’t miss when Lord Balik looked at his wife. “And, as for forsaking my blood, I am clean of that as well.”
The air in the room seemed to still. Thyra and I had spoken to Vale about this at length, and the time was here. The moment he claimed his name. Just as I had.
“What do you mean by that?” Lord Balik leaned forward in his seat.
“What I mean is that King Magnus is not my father by blood,” Vale spoke so that everyone present heard. So that soon, the word would spread across the kingdom far and wide. “I am the son of Lord Leyv Riis.”