Chapter 35 – Vale
VALE
“Mother.” I approached the bars, vibrating with magic.
She was thinner, her skin had taken on a gray pallor, and the light in her eyes was dimmed.
“Are you yourself?” I asked as the female who had brought me into this world and protected the secret of my parentage for so long shuffled closer. “Or is he still controlling you?”
Astril cocked her head, and I pretended I didn’t notice her reaction, but inwardly cursed my stupidity. We had not yet revealed that Mother or Rhistel were whisperers, but slip ups like that would have people guessing.
My mother came towards me, her steps unsteady. Tried to discern why she seemed aged and injured when there were no marks on her body. Only dirt.
“Vale? Is that you?” Her voice broke, gaze scanning my glamoured face.
She’d only been in here for a few days, but the isolation wing was empty and dark.
The air hung around us, still and musty.
Choking. A slab of stone, not even another cell with another being to make eye contact with.
Perhaps the cell itself had magic upon it to amplify a sense of loneliness too.
I would not put it past Lady Ithamai. She was ruthless with anyone who broke her laws, no matter how small.
“It’s me, Mother.”
She eyed me distrustfully. “Tell me the first thing I said to you after learning that you’d wed.”
A test. She was uncertain that I was real, that any of this was.
The memory of my mother in the hallway outside my Frostveil suite, watching me with desperation and ill-concealed anger, came rushing back.
Had she suspected Isolde’s identity even then?
Had the presence of a possible Falk reminded my mother of her past and what she’d done to keep her secret?
I didn’t know, but I recalled her words as if she’d spoken them only yesterday.
“You said, tell me it isn’t true. You did not wed her.” As I spoke, I took Isolde’s hand in mine and squeezed, assuring her. “For the record, Mother, my choice is one I will never regret.”
Mother released a long, rancid breath, and it took all I had inside me not to rear back in disgust. What in the name of the dead gods were they feeding her?
“You shouldn’t have come. Rhistel wanted to lure you.” Cold rushed through me at her words, the confirmation that this was a trap. Mother’s gaze slid to Isolde. “And you. Did Lord Riis—”
“I know what you did.” My wife’s chin lifted. “I’m not here for you but for my mate. That being said, we need to get you out before someone comes.”
“Mate?” Mother whispered, but her words drowned against the sound of oncoming footsteps.
I tried to discern how many, but the leprechaun began shouting. Caelo’s voice yelled back, and the creature shut up, but I feared the damage had likely been done. That fear came true when, seconds later, those of South Star appeared through the darkness and just as an alarm blared to life.
Yrsa fumbled with the keys. “Qildor and Geiravor, examine the wards.”
The warders, two of the only ones in our trusted group of friends and allies, began studying the magic. Testing it with pokes of their own. I wasn’t familiar with the intricacies of Geiravor’s powers, but she worked quickly, prodding the bars. Trying new tactics. Testing and eliminating.
Qildor worked more methodically than his counterpart. He wasn’t the best warder in the kingdom, but he was excellent. That protective magic combined with other smaller magics that he’d honed and great skill with a sword had made him an ideal Clawsguard.
“Mother, do you recall anything about the magic placed on this cell when they brought you here?” Any clue could help the warders.
My mother blinked as if weights hung from her eyelids, as if still in Rhistel’s thrall. “Three warders created one protection each, likely so the others could not speak to the other two warders magic. Blood is the fourth layer of protection. The key is last.”
“Blood?” Geiravor asked.
“To the locks—they applied Rhistel’s blood.”
“Let’s hope that means his family can free her. Or perhaps the Blood of Winter,” Qildor said. “That’s a problem for after we break the magic, though. Wards. Then blood. Then the key.”
“Anything else?” I asked.
“I—I wasn’t aware the entire time.” Mother blinked heavily.
Fates, my brother and the king were swines. We’d have to try my blood and hope that it worked as well as Rhistel’s.
“Got one!” Pride laced Geiravor’s voice as the bars glowed blue before returning to normal. “Where are you, Qildor?”
“No closer to figuring this ward out.”
“I’ll work on the last. Keep going.”
A bead of sweat dripped from the knight’s nose. Next to him, Yrsa waited with the keys. There were at least ten on the ring.
“What if the isolation wing’s keys aren’t on that ring?” I dared to ask.
After all, these fae were the worst of the worst. It was possible Lady Ithamai would hold those keys herself. Or that the king and Rhistel had wanted to keep the key to my mother’s cell on their persons.
“We’ll have to improvise,” Thyra said.
Since South Star arrived, and the warders began working, the rest of her company watched the end of the corridor. Waiting for castle guards to arrive.
“With no wards on the cell, Thyra and I might be able to shatter the lock,” Isolde offered.
If anyone could, it would be them. Isolde had the most powerful raw winter magic I’d ever seen. Her twin was nearly her equal.
“Hopefully, the key will work. We’ll see as soon as the wards are gone.” Yrsa swallowed.
“Vale?” Mother’s voice sounded fainter than before. Sweat beaded her forehead, and were her hands trembling?
“What is it?” I asked, straining my ears to tune out the many prisoners shouting about us, and who they suspected we were here for, in an effort to hear oncoming footsteps.
“I think I—” She stumbled over to the side of the cell and braced herself with one arm right before her eyes fluttered closed, and she fell to the ground in a faint.
“What in all the nine kingdoms?” Qildor’s magic halted for a moment, but Geiravor nudged him.
“Keep going! I think I’m close.”
My friend continued but shot me a look of concern. Of questions.
But I had no answers. Just worries.
“I hear footsteps,” Freyia said. “They’re coming.”
Geiravor let out a frustrated hiss. “Come on, Qildor!”
“I’m trying.”
“Weapons out.” I turned to face those coming for us just as they came into view.
Row after row of soldiers, marching four across, came at us. Armed to the teeth, there were at least fifty opponents, though the dimness made it difficult to count.
“Hands up,” a soldier barked. “We have you cornered.”
“They don’t,” Yrsa whispered. “The underground passageway, we can still use it.”
I stepped forward, daggers in both hands. Astril and Freyia slipped into place beside me, and Caelo and Thantrel posted up behind with Isolde and Thyra.
“We’ll take our chances.” With one dagger, I pointed to the front line, feeling far more like a villain than the Warrior Bear of Winter’s Realm. “Valkyrja.”
The vampires shot forward. The oncoming soldiers balked, and sounds of shock rang out as two of their own from each side of the front line fell. Then the middle ones. Before the second line lashed out, the vampires darted back, out of the way.
The soldiers exchanged wary glances. Debating whether to come at us or not.
“Stay there,” I commanded. “Not another pace forward and we won’t harm you. I pro—”
A low, cunning laugh came from somewhere in the lines of soldiers, sending the fire of rage simmering in my belly.