1. Allie
Allie
“It won’t sprout fangs and maul your throat, you know?” Dax’s words rushed through the forest and vanished between the ancient fir trees that engulfed us.
Still, I didn’t move, both entranced and unnerved.
The relief at seeing my cousin was gone, leaving behind a numbness even colder than the frozen crater caging us; only my throat throbbed with the painful memories of Orion’s fist squeezing the air out of me.
I didn’t dare run my fingers over the skin, now healed and much paler in the unreliable northern sun than it had been back on the balmy coast of Aquila.
The stronghold of the Protectorate Clan.
The home which I’d defended fiercely all my life.
The city which now considered me a traitor.
I stayed as still as Dria Vegheara’s mighty statues, Dax’s eyes sharpened on me. Out of all my cousins, he was the one who saw too much and had no qualms pointing out the tiniest details.
“Allie,” he pressed, coming closer. The crunch of the snow tensed me up–or maybe it was him holding the crown up to me, like an offering. “It’s the Protectorate crown. Your crown.”
Was it, though, after everything that had happened?
My father had been killed, minutes, perhaps seconds before I’d found him, and I hadn’t even been able to attend his funeral.
I’d been taken away from everything I’d ever known by the Commander of the Blood Brotherhood Clan.
My uncle Silas had stolen my throne in my absence and had busied his useless self with spreading lies about me instead of actually leading our Clan.
The Clan Council had demanded I marry my former enemy to prevent an outright war.
When I’d tried to escape back to Aquila, foolishly thinking the Protectorate would welcome me back with open arms, the man who’d taught me how to hold a bow had tried to kill me.
My cousins were all scattered over Malhaven, each facing their own Blood Brotherhood arranged marriages to keep the peace.
The bitter truth was that if my people had ever respected me, they’d only done it because of my titles.
The First Daughter.
The Huntress.
The heir to the Protectorate throne.
What was I without the power my family and its history bestowed upon me?
A memory for some.
A name to be cursed for most.
A crown on my head changed nothing, even if it had been worn by Grandpa Constantine.
Still, I stared at it. At its sharp, imposing metal peaks, forged out of a cannon's barrel right in the Ember Vale, where few dared go and even fewer returned from. Powerful symbols hid underneath that steel, only to be lit up once–and if–the crown accepted the heir.
No symbols, no power.
No power meant the Protectorate army could not be commanded.
After my Clan had turned its back on me, how could the crown ever accept me? I wouldn’t be able to face Dax’s look of pity and disappointment.
Or, perhaps, my own.
Because I still wanted that crown, despite everything.
My hand still drifted toward it, aching with desire, the shine of the metal mesmerizing. The power contained within it sang to me with promises of vengeance and glory.
I could show them, all of them, what leading a Clan truly meant. Power forged in fire, tempered through ice, reborn to make Malhaven quake.
A true heir to the throne wouldn’t think like that, though. Shame crashed through me. With great effort, I steeled my hand and let it drop gracelessly to my side.
I closed my eyes, shook the dreams of vengeful glory away, and plastered a shaky smile on my face that I knew did nothing to hide the battle within me.
“How did you even get here?” I asked.
For most, Solkar’s Reach was a myth, an impenetrable crater forged by falling stars and vengeful gods, with edges higher than the mountains surrounding Aquila.
The only entry point had been compromised and sealed off.
Dax was good at sneaking into impossible places, but even he wasn’t that good.
As I waited for his answer, I barely managed to rip my ravenous gaze from the crown. A pressure began to crawl up my spine as the polished steel glinted at the edges of my vision, calling my attention back to it.
Dax’s smile fell. Slowly, calculating.
He pulled his hand back and tucked the crown in his massive leather backpack. A part of me roared at its sudden absence, greedy palms twisting at my sides to grab it back.
Eyes still trained on me, Dax stepped back and ripped his dagger from the tree I’d sent careening into in my haste to protect the wounded troll.
Instead of tucking it back in whatever secret pocket he surely must have had in his coat, Dax pointed that weapon at me.
Its mean, silver glint sent a jolt of fear through me.
On pure instinct, I had my bow in my hand and an arrow cocked straight at my cousin’s face in the blink of an eye.
“What are you doing?” I whispered, even as my heart broke in two all over again.
Not Dax.
Not my cousin, who smiled easily for strangers, but hid his true self only for us to witness.
Not the man who’d begged me only days ago to tell him not to kill Silas for what he’d done to us.
“Who are you?” he said in the coldest voice I’d ever heard fall from his lips.
This wasn’t Daxon “Dax” Vegheara, the one who’d charmed all of Malhaven.
This was the man hiding behind the irresistible mask.
The Protectorate’s greatest and most secret weapon.
“I’m your cousin,” I spat out, heart pounding in my ears. “The one who nursed you back to health more times than I can count after your escapades.”
“The real Allie would never think twice about accepting the Protectorate crown.” He barred his teeth. “What are you? A replica?”
I lessened the tension in my bowstring. Not fully, but enough to listen. “What in Xamor’s name are you talking about?”
“Don’t play stupid. Allie would never stoop so low.”
“Hey!”
He took a menacing step toward me. “Where is she? If you’ve done anything to her, I will destroy you in such a way that cautionary tales will be whispered about your miserable fate for generations to come–”
“It’s me, you oaf!” I shouted, but didn’t lower my arrow. “Put the dagger down.”
He took another step. Damn Vegheara stubbornness.
I wasn’t about to shoot my own cousin–but I wasn’t about to let him maim me. Dax would never forgive himself if he’d wound me.
“You saw me use my Protectorate power,” I said. Meek as those tendrils had been, after the last few days’ exhaustion, I’d managed to flick his blade out of the air. And I could flick it again from his hand just as easily.
But I wanted him to understand on his own.
Dax prowled closer. “Any Protectorate member worth their talons can do that.”
“I know you have a tattoo you’re ashamed of,” I blurted out.
His bronze cheeks flushed. “So do dozens of women across Malhaven.”
“You’re disgusting.” I grimaced. “I know you probably brought me Fangloop as a surprise.”
He froze, but held on tight to the dagger. “Orion knew about Allie’s archer ring. He could have told you to trick me.”
I gritted my teeth until they hurt. The shadow of Orion’s betrayal was still cast upon us all.
Dax’s shoulders tensed, ready to attack.
“For the love of–” I rolled my eyes. “You’ve always wanted to do it the hard way.”
I tightened my bowstring to its limits. Just before Dax pounced on me, I let the arrow loose.
It hissed through the air, but didn’t impale itself in his chest. Instead, the arrow arced through the air, almost nicking his shoulder, before embedding itself with a thunk in the tree right behind him.
A curved arrow.
A shot only The Huntress could make.
Dax froze, eyes wide.
The forest grew solemn and tense.
“Now do you believe me?” I breathed heavily, words turning to mist and concealing the lower half of my face.
It took too long for him to lower his weapon and nod.
I exhaled a long breath.
Of relief.
Of shame, for even thinking he would attack me.
Of being sick and tired of treason, even the ghost of it.
“Godsdammit, Allie, you could’ve shot me,” he said, but it lacked bite.
I gaped at him. “You were acting crazy!”
“I was trying to protect my favorite cousin,” he said primly and sheathed his dagger. The ferocious man who was ready to kill for me was gone as fast as he had appeared.
“Don’t let Clara hear you say that.”
“I would never.” He kept looking at me strangely, as if seeing a spirit.
“Stop it.” I swatted at him. “It’s me.”
“I was wrong.” Dax hummed low in his throat and tilted his head to the side. “You seem different.”
He had changed, too, and not for the better. The shadows underneath his eyes had drained all the easiness from him and the slump in his shoulders hissed of defeat.
“Losing one’s Clan does that to a person,” I muttered.
“You haven’t lost–”
“You must be freezing,” I said quickly. “I almost turned into an icicle the first time I came here.”
“Changing the subject will not help.” He crossed his hands in front of his chest, the leather of his coat crinkling.
It was strange seeing Dax dressed in anything other than his pristine suits or the imposing ritual robes.
“But it is ungodly cold here. Your Commander has strange tastes in accommodations. Where is he, by the way? I was half expecting him to decapitate me as a welcome.”
“Protecting his city,” was all I said.
After the troll incident, I didn’t know who–or what–was listening.
Something devious was festering in Solkar’s Reach and nobody could be trusted until we found out what was really going on.
“He should, with the war coming.” He gave me a grave look. “And it is coming, Allie.”
Another shiver coursed down my spine. My heart wanted to protest, but my mind knew the truth.
The Serpents–and whoever was helping them and destroying our lives–would attack.
“He’ll come home soon,” I said, a pang of longing blooming inside of me.
A ridiculous one.
He’d only been gone for less than a day, yet my heart galloped at the mere mention of him as if we were long-lost lovers separated by an ocean of time.
“So this frozen wasteland is now home?” Dax raised a haughty brow. “The Commander really is welcoming.”
“It’s not a wasteland. And you can trust him,” I said. “He protected me when nobody else could or wanted to.”
The humor vanished from Dax’s gaze, replaced with shadows I hadn’t seen there before. This wasn’t the ruthless darkness of a warrior or the calculating glint of a mastermind.
No, this was shame, an emotion I knew too well.
“I wasn’t talking about you,” I said quickly. “You had your own mission–and your own arranged marriage to deal with.”
He huffed. “That blessed union will never happen as long as I have breath in my lungs.”
“The Clan Council will not stand for that,” I warned.
“The Clan Council first needs to find me before they can punish me. They know where the rest of you are, but the Council–and my future fiancee–have no clue how to find me. Problem solved.”
“They could punish the Protectorate.” There I went again, protecting a Clan who didn’t want me.
“It won’t come to that. I have it on good authority that the magistrates have bigger problems than my whereabouts.”
“But that Viper of yours–”
“She is not mine,” he bit out, enunciating every word. “She does not want me and I do not want her.”
“But–”
“I really am cold.” He shivered for added emphasis. “Couldn’t you have gotten kidnapped in balmier weather? Like Evie. She’s near the coast, enjoying the ocean breeze in her hair. Smart girl.”
“Now who’s changing the subject?”
“We are family, after all.” He smiled brightly and turned. “After you, Huntress. Show me where the warmth is, merciful hostess.”
I rolled my eyes but laughed despite myself.
We walked through the forest in silence, only the brittle, crunching snow to keep us company. Dax’s gaze wandered all around us, whistling in awe at the massive firs, while my eyes didn’t stray from his face.
I couldn’t believe that he was here, after all these weeks of worry and death.
The familiar face I hadn’t known I’d needed, in this crater which nobody could penetrate.
So how had Dax?
There was only one passage in and out of Solkar’s Reach, and one had to be escorted in by someone who’d already traversed the secret entryway.
Dax didn’t know anyone here apart from me, and I definitely hadn’t brought him in.
“Dax…” I began. “How did you get into Solkar’s Reach?”