Chapter 32 – Vale
VALE
The scents of bacon and toasted bread welcomed Isolde and me into the Balik family breakfast hall.
The daily family ritual was one I’d always envied hearing Sian speak of. My mother and the king rarely saw one another outside of social or diplomatic events. The Baliks were different from my family in so many ways. More like how I wanted my future family to be.
“There she is!” Lord Balik boomed with a smile. “Happy nameday, Isolde!”
A chorus of voices followed as others wished my wife well on her actual nameday.
My mate beamed. “Many thanks.”
“Truth be told, I was wondering how many of you would make it today,” Lord Balik teased. “Sian is still sleeping off the ale, I think.”
“Considering how many he drank, he might be abed for a few bells more.” I caught Filip’s twinkling eye.
Unlike his brother, the heir had turned in early. In fact, the only other nobles who weren’t present were Lord Riis and the Fellhelm siblings. The latter were likely visiting their father in the healer’s sanctuary.
“Sian began a game of cards with Caelo, Duran, and Vidar after the party disbanded.” I came to a stop behind my usual chair. “Who knows how long they stayed up.”
Cabal game nights were legendary affairs that lasted for hours and involved copious amounts of ale, wine, and harder spirits.
Though last night’s game was less well attended than most. I had been busy pleasuring my mate, and I knew that none of the Riis brothers attended either, all three busy with their own love lives.
“We played for two more bells.” Vidar held up a pair of fingers. “And yet, I’m here.”
“Not Caelo or Duran.”
“Neither of them grew up around sailors, and it shows,” Sayyida said with a wave of her good arm. The table broke into soft laughter that transformed into many disparate conversations.
I pulled out Isolde’s chair. She settled beside Thantrel, seated by Thyra at Lord Balik’s direct right.
Across the table were Lady Balik, Filip, and my sister, all in places of honor among the Warden of the Southlands.
The other Riis brothers were further down the long table with their ladies, Anna and Clemencia.
After my mate wished her twin a happy nameday, she leaned closer. “No mark on Thyra.”
“Too bad,” I whispered back.
“Indeed,” Thantrel muttered.
I had to hold back my snort of laughter. My poor brother would wait until his dying day for Thyra. I only hoped she wouldn’t allow that and one day, they’d both be as happy as Isolde and me.
Servants swept in with food and tea, and breakfast began.
Light conversation peppered the room as we ate.
This early, no one liked to fixate on the war or other somber matters and especially not on a day as special as this one.
Breakfast was for connection and joy, and we took advantage of the time.
Perhaps because of the drink or the dancing or the hours I’d kept Isolde awake after the party, but my appetite was larger than normal.
I inhaled one of every item brought out and was considering going in for seconds as I listened to Lord Balik regale the table with a story.
He was nearing the climax, obvious from the rising tone of his usually subtle voice when Sigri entered—seemingly much to the annoyance of the Balik guards at the door.
Beside the dwarf was a youngling around Filip’s age, her fists clenched tight at her side.
“Is something happening?” Thyra asked.
“I’m not sure, Princess Thyra,” Sigri said. “This messenger came from the aviary. She has a note for Prince Vale.”
The youngling approached the table, curtsied clumsily. All the while her wide eyes bounced between Thyra and Isolde, giving me the sense that she didn’t know how to act in their presence.
“I’ll take that,” I said.
“Of-of-of course, Prince Vale!” the messenger lost all composure as she scurried over, hand outstretched, knuckles white from clutching the small tube. “I would have had a servant leave it in your suite, but it’s colored red on the outside. That means—”
“It’s urgent,” I finished. “Thank you for delivering it.”
She handed it over and ran from the room. Sigri plodded out after the youngling, shutting the door behind them.
“The Armenils?” Isolde asked and didn’t bother to lower her voice. Everyone at the table was watching and listening.
“There’s no seal of the direwolf,” Marit said from a few seats down. Many times, she’d expressed frustration that her family had not written back yet.
“They’ll reply.” I examined the battered tube. “This tube has been used more than once.”
Not unusual. Most tubes were reused time and time again, though not the ones the noble houses sent out. They created new ones for each message and gave the old tubes to commonfae or institutions like the House of Wisdom.
I had a hunch who this message might be from, and upon opening the tube and unfurling the small scroll inside, I saw I was right.
“From a friend. A captain in the Royal Army named Gorm. I wrote to him to see if I could not get a few captains to defect and maybe bring other soldiers with them.” A smile spread across my face.
“Gorm has agreed. As have two of my other friends—Asmund and Helga, all of whom I’ve been on many missions with.
They were with one another outside the walls of Avaldenn when the messages were received and thought it smarter to only send one back. ”
“A good idea. Too many ravens leaving an army camp draws attention,” Lord Balik agreed. “They’re in Avaldenn, you say?”
“Gorm says that the armies have been amassing there for weeks, but soon, they plan to march south. My friends will be working to convince others to join them as they march. When we meet, however, they will switch sides.” I scanned the scroll further.
Gorm had taken a great risk in writing to me and giving me as much information as he could.
“They’re under Roar’s command. Close to twenty-five thousand fae.” I swallowed the staggering number. At fourteen thousand fae between three armies, our numbers were far less.
“Lord Roar?” Tadgh Balik’s nose wrinkled. “Why not someone more capable?”
Isolde laughed, but I understood. It wasn’t that Roar could not lead fae. He had many times. He was strong in combat, or he had been before he lost his leg. And as much as I hated to admit it, Roar was unbeatable with a bow and arrow.
However, there were many fae better suited to the role of leading such a large army: at least a dozen knights, and the same number of captains who had fought under me.
Even King Magnus himself would prove more effective at leading a large force, and the king hadn’t been in the field for many, many turns.
So why would the king leave his forces in the hands of Roar, a fae who he did not like much at all and trusted less?
Or at least, that had been the case before I left Avaldenn.
“I don’t know,” I admitted.
“Does he say anything about the Shadow King?” Thyra leaned forward. “Has King Magnus introduced his ally to the rest of the kingdom?”
“No mention of a Shadow Fae.”
“Is it time we released that information to the wider kingdom?” Lord Balik asked.
I wasn’t sure that was wise. There had been instances we’d been able to hush up and nothing dire had occurred.
Still, the moment we introduced Shadow Fae to the public, the existence of Isolde’s and Thyra’s shadow magic would be made public.
In retaliation, the whisperers in my family would be revealed.
It would be a vicious cycle, and I didn’t think we were ready for the onslaught of public opinion amidst a war.
“We’ll talk about it,” my mate said. “For now—”
“Let me in!” a voice I recognized roared outside the door. “I don’t need to be announced!”
Lord Riis burst through the doors. His eyes, usually placid and excellent at hiding secrets, bulged. He looked so wild I barely noticed the figure entering behind him until she spoke.
“Apologies for interrupting your meal,” Yrsa said. “We have terrible news, and it can not wait.”
“We should already be there,” Lord Riis growled. “I should have gone ahead.”
“That would have been foolish, and you know it!” Yrsa tossed up her hands. “You wouldn’t make it into the castle without help, and here is the help!”
I stood again. “Calm down, Father.”
My proclamation seemed to center him somewhat, but the wild anger on my father’s face remained, like an unquenchable fire threatening to burn all those around him.
“What news, Yrsa?” Luccan asked, also standing, also with trepidation lining his face.
But instead of Yrsa answering, Lord Riis did.
“Inga is being held in a dungeon in Grindavik. She has been there for three days. We must get her out!”
My entire body went stiff, and I couldn’t find any words. Had my proclamation instigated this? Or Rhistel breaking free and then delivering the news?
Either way, it’s likely he’s free now.
“Leyv, let us catch up,” Lord Balik’s voice rang out loud and clear in the otherwise silent room. “Perhaps your daughter should tell us?”
“I’d be happy to, my lord.” Yrsa stepped in front of her father.
“The king’s ship arrived days ago. King Magnus, Prince Rhistel, the queen, and others disembarked right away and went up to the castle.
Some of the crew stayed on board, but most went into the city.
In the taverns, my sisters and I learned they planned to head to the mage court to recruit allies. ”
My stomach dropped. The mages and fae had a tenuous relationship at best, but the High King of the Mages Tyra Odarin had hated King Harald with a passion. He’d been pleased when the Falk line died. Would the mages ally with Magnus to spite Isolde and Thyra?
I feared the answer was a resounding yes.
“It was late last night when rumors swirled in the city that the queen sat in a cell in the Ithamai’s castle. I presume because of her affair with my father, which the masses of Grindavik only recently learned about.” Yrsa swallowed. “That gossip aside, are you familiar with their cells?”
“Oh yes,” Lord Balik said softly. “Lady Ithamai is strict about the law and likes to see punishment done properly. Her dungeons are warded well.”
A strange sound came from Lord Riis. One I’d never heard before but conveyed distress.
Yrsa cleared her throat. “True, and hearing that the queen is in a cell is big news. It took a while to track down a source that my sisters and I trust, but they confirmed it.”
“I’ll kill them,” my father growled.
I turned to my mate and Thyra, the fae with the most power in the room. “I know you do not trust her, but I beg you, allow me to save my mother.”
What Mother had done was horrible. And yet, she was still my blood, the one mother I had and a female who had loved me unconditionally.
If Isolde and Thyra spearheaded this mission, I wouldn’t save my mother from their fury, but at least she wouldn’t rot in the Ithamai’s dungeon—a pawn of King Magnus and my brother.
Maybe King érebo too?
Yrsa had not mentioned him, but he might have gone south with his allies.
The pieces shifted. Moves and countermoves.
We might not have left the safety of Ramshold yet, but this was a battle strike.
Since I’d already proclaimed that I was no son of his, the king wanted the other high lords and ladies to learn about his wife’s affair.
To see the consequences of betrayal, on Magnus’s terms and timeframe.
Or perhaps the king still wanted to use the queen in other ways, and if Rhistel couldn’t control our mother for all hours of the day, he’d need a strong cell in proximity in which to hold her. Hence, a stop in Grindavik.
That struck me as true. They must have some plan to use my mother—likely at the mage court.
Thyra cleared her throat. “You’re right that we don’t trust her, Vale, but I believe that your mother owes my sister and me a conversation.”
She desired an apology, but as my mother’s whispering magic was still secret, Thyra took care with her words.
“So, I say yes. We find Queen Inga and bring her here.”
My gaze slid to my mate, but she was watching Lord Riis, red-faced and tense. Somehow, my father kept it together. Barely.
“Force?” I whispered. “What say you?”
She dragged her gaze up to meet mine, and her features softened. “We will save Queen Inga, but I am doing it for Vale and Saga. No other reason.”
Isolde pushed her chair back and stood. Others followed. “The sooner we put together a plan, the sooner we can go to Grindavik.”