Interlude
KING MAGNUS AABERG, THE WHITE BEAR, PROTECTOR OF WINTER’S REALM
The king stared at the throne room’s door and envisioned the line of commonfae standing outside, all waiting to see him. To hear his judgment.
He released a long breath. Was it not enough that the snow was melting? What more could these people want?
And then arose the question that continued to plague him: Had the Shadow King and those spiders finally finished Isolde off?
“Husband?” Inga asked. “The lords and ladies do not wish to wait all day.”
Nor did she, though she did not say as much; it was clear from her annoyed tone.
The king stared down at the smattering of lords and ladies in the chairs below.
All witnesses of the public requests made on the day.
Among them were Warden Roar Lisika, Lady of Silks Nalaea Qiren, and the Master of Coin, Lord Airen Vagle—all fae he planned to keep close after the betrayals of Houses Virtoris, Balik, and Armenil.
“The sooner you’re through here, the sooner you can deal with other issues,” Inga added tersely.
By the dead gods, she was in a state. The king wondered if Rhistel was giving her trouble. Not that he’d dare to ask.
“Show the next in.” Magnus waved a moon-pale hand through the air.
“Presenting Ragnor of Avaldenn, Your Majesty,” a Clawsguard at the door announced the next in line.
A dwarf appeared. He wore simple, well-made clothing, and his long blond beard was tied in sections with leather cords. A kept-up appearance that was ruined when the dwarf got closer and the reek of onion and garlic wafted up the king’s nostrils.
“Rise,” Magnus drawled after the dwarf knelt. “What can I help you with today, Ragnor?”
“My king, I come with a request for a business expansion.”
“What is your business?”
“I run a cart that sells hand pies. The best in the city.” Ragnor puffed his chest out.
“We know your wares.” Inga broke into the first smile that the king had seen on her face in days. “I favor the wild boar flavor, myself.”
“Thank you, my queen. I’ll be sure to send a few up after I leave here today.”
“What sort of expansion are you requesting?” Magnus asked, already bored. His wife might be taken with the dwarf’s cooking, but he only wanted to get through his tasks and move on.
“I would like to take advantage of the improving weather and build a greenhouse on the outskirts of the city. In the allotment where a few local merchants have built theirs.”
“To grow what?”
“Wheat, so I don’t have to import it or buy it from others in the city. Perhaps vegetables for my pies too. Would be nice to have whatever variety I wished, my king. Not to mention more of everything. I’d like to expand my business.”
“Hmm.” Magnus drew a slender finger down the arm of his throne.
Those private greenhouses were owned by wealthy merchants, lords, and ladies.
All of whom lined the king’s pockets for allowing them to build their own greenhouses and grow whatever crops they pleased.
The dwarf might be well-dressed, for a commoner, but Magnus did not think the pie cart owner was in league with those merchants, lords, and ladies who could pay more coin.
“I shall have to consider this request. Leave your information with the servant outside, and I’ll have a messenger send word when I make my decision.”
Ragnor’s shoulders fell. “Thank you, Your Majesty.” He paused. “Did you know that the owner of the oldest, most decrepit greenhouses died? I could knock that one down and build anew. Beautify the area a bit.”
He had to hand it to the dwarf; he had balls. “Dismissed.”
The dwarf filed out, and the Clawsguards showed in the next three subjects, all of whom bored Magnus to tears.
When the fourth walked in, his hood up and hiding his face, the king did not think much of it.
Before entering Frostveil, guards searched each subject for weapons, and it was not so odd for fae to hide their faces.
Particularly not if one had troll, orc, or goblin blood, making them less trustworthy to most. However, when the subject pulled a severed head from the folds of his cloak and tossed it to the bottom of the dais, the witnesses below gave a collective gasp.
Magnus sat up straighter. “What is the meaning of this?”
“This is, was, a vampire, King. One of the assassins sent to kill Princess Isolde. I heard there was a bounty on their heads, should someone be able to kill one. I am here to collect.”
Magnus stared down at the head, and his attention locked on the fangs, extended in death and ready to bite. Or they had been until this fae got the better of the assassin. The death had to have been recent if the vampire wasn’t already turning to ash.
The king had announced the bounty less than a week ago, and in that time, only two other Red Assassins had been caught and killed. Both by the local Assassin’s Guild, not a random fae working alone. Reluctantly impressed, Magnus nodded. “Where’s the rest of him?”
“Ah, well, our fight was near the docks. I decapitated him as he leapt and only caught his head. So I expect the body is somewhere at the bottom of the Shivering Sea.” There was a hint of amusement in that tone.
The king’s lips curled. He may have been willing to use the vampires to get rid of Isolde Falk, but now that the harlot was far from Avaldenn, he no longer wanted a single Red Assassin in his city making trouble when he had enough to deal with.
Not that they cared what he, or any other fae, wanted.
The bloodsuckers had come to his kingdom to hunt down Isolde, but since their arrival, a slew of deaths had penetrated the city.
Drainings. Vampires liked little more than fae blood.
Hence, the need for the bounty on their heads.
“Winter’s Realm thanks you for your service—what was your name again?”
In answer, hands lifted and the fae removed his hood.
The king’s heart stilled as a smile he’d seen only in the face of a tree blinded him.
“érebo.”
Magnus stood.
Below, the lords and ladies followed suit, some nearly falling out of their chairs; they were so taken aback by the king’s sudden movement. Magnus swallowed, realizing how odd the reaction looked. How uncontrolled and unlike him.
But by the dead gods, how was this Shadow Fae standing among them?
“Husband?” Inga asked. “What’s wrong?”
“Everyone out. I’ll see no one else today,” Magnus bellowed.
Lord Roar’s spine straightened. “Majesty, there are at least one hundred more people in line. Don’t you think—”
“Leave.”
The merchant witnesses rushed out of the room, followed swiftly by the lords and ladies of lesser houses. When only his wife, those of the Scared Eight, and the Clawsguards remained, Magnus pointed to the door.
“Make no mistake, I meant all of you. My Clawsguards too.”
Roar glared at érebo but left with the others of his station. The Clawsguards saw them out, and Magnus turned to Inga.
“I’d like you to go too.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes.”
A silent battle of wills ensued, broken only when érebo gave a soft cough.
“My queen, perhaps you do not know this, but your husband and I have a long history. From the rebellion days. We have much to catch up on, and clearly, I’ve caught him off guard.”
Inga’s eyes softened, buying the lie because she had no way of knowing that a Shadow Fae stood before her.
That érebo, like Inga herself, could lie.
The queen nodded, and left, giving her husband one last long look before she shut the door to the throne room behind her.
“How are you here?” Magnus asked, sweeping down the steps.
“They came. A fight ensued, and incidentally I was freed.”
“By they you mean Vale and Isolde?”
“And her twin. Thyra. Both bore shadow magic, as I thought they would. I have released it.”
Magnus’s stomach tightened. So the twin lived. He’d believed the rebellion against him was led by some pretender, or another Falk bastard. Had it been her all along?
Then the second part hit him.
The Falks had shadow magic. Just like the dangerous fae before him.
“They will seek allies,” érebo said. “In fact, they already found some. Their allies are how they escaped my cavern.”
Magnus had an idea who the Falks would turn to for help. “Then we must discuss calling our own allies. And our own alliance.”
The Shadow King had already given Magnus the Scepter. He’d held up his end of the bargain—and somehow he’d even gotten free of that blasted tree. The King of Winter didn’t trust érebo yet, but he knew this fae was a force to be reckoned with, and he wanted that kind of force on his side.