Chapter 44 – Neve
NEVE
Thyra and I approached the Drassil. How the tree was here, bathed in sunlight while darkness ruled the rest of the cavern, baffled me.
Since arriving in Winter’s Realm, I’d not seen a holy tree so alive. So vibrant. Or with as many leaves.
Like the first Drassil I’d seen in Traliska, I yearned to touch it.
To see if this tree would speak to me too and, if so, what it might say.
Would I hear my mother again? My father?
A stronger tree had to mean a stronger connection to the Faetia and with Thyra by my side, I yearned to attempt contact.
But first, the Scepter.
Sassa’s Blade remained sheathed; however, I needed to only touch the top of the hilt to know it was hot.
I assumed the Fr?r Crown was too. Throughout the journey in the tunnels, between feeling our Hallows and hearing whispers no one else heard, my sister and I had traded assurances we were on the right track.
So where was the Scepter? I didn’t see it down here. Nor in the branches above. The tree featured a hole that I could imagine an aura owl nesting in, but it was not deep. From paces away, I could tell no Hallow of the realm glittered inside.
Had we been wrong? It didn’t feel like we were wrong. If anything, the closer we got to the Drassil, the stronger the magic that came off it. Magic that was familiar, but also somehow unidentifiable. Different from other holy trees.
“I don’t see it.” Thyra exhaled a long breath. “But I was so certain.”
“As was I.” I turned to my sister, my eyebrows pulled together. “Do you think it’s beneath the tree? Buried there by purpose or chance? Maybe that’s why the tree is healthier than others of its kind.”
From behind, Vale cleared his throat. “It would be sacrilege to find out.”
“An affront to the dead gods themselves,” Ulfiel added, a tremor in his voice as three fingers went to his chest and he dragged them downward in reverence.
If people continued to die, and younglings continued to be born misshapen and weaker than generations before, would it be worth it to cut down the tree? Or, at the very least, to dig under the roots? Imagining the tree tipping if we’d dug too deep made me cringe.
Thyra gestured above. “I say we search the tunnels. An animal might have dragged the Scepter anywhere. If it’s not there, we dig around the tree,” Thyra cleared her throat. “Dig with great care.”
“Don’t fly for too long,” Vale added. “It’s utterly freezing in here. Colder than outside.”
He was right. I’d managed to not be bothered by the temperature because the hunt preoccupied me. Once you stopped moving through, the cold was piercing indeed.
“Let’s take it in turns,” Luccan suggested.
I was about to agree, but a whisper teased my ear. I twitched. That had felt close. Closer than any had been before. I twisted toward the sound and found a dark, male face looking back at me.
“Screaming stars!” I jumped into Vale, who placed me behind him.
“What is it?” he commanded, Skelda in hand.
“The tree!”
A few shuffled back a handful of steps as they took in what I’d seen.
“It’s rare that visitors enter my mountain.” The face rasped, his voice so familiar, despite the motion of the barky face being so completely strange. “I almost thought the voices I was hearing were but a dream.”
A body appeared below the face and the features sharpened and began to look more like a normal fae, though the color of him was still the same as the tree bark.
The result was a male as tall and muscular as Vale with wings sprouting from his back.
However, unlike our wings, they tapered to nothing at the ends, like smoke blowing away on a faint breeze.
No, not smoke. Shadows.
I stared at the male, recognition dawning at the sharp hawkish nose, the dark eyes, and the square jaw. The same face I’d seen when I’d placed the Fr?r Crown atop my head.
“Who are you?” Vale asked, Skelda still aloft.
My mate wasn’t the only one to have drawn a weapon. In fact, I was in the minority, alongside Xillia, as the only fae not prepared to attack. I righted that oversight, pulling Sassa’s Blade from the sheath, and immediately regretted the action, for I swore the trapped fae’s eyes lit up.
Fool. He’s in a tree! His eyes are nothing but bark.
And yet, judging by the expanding pit in my stomach, logic was not convincing. Not even to myself.
“I am a visitor to this kingdom who took a wrong turn,” the fae smiled and though he was undeniably attractive, it was not a thing of beauty. No, his smile set my teeth on edge.
“You’re a Shadow Fae,” I stated, having found my voice. “I’ve seen you before.”
“Did you? That makes the two of us, for I’ve seen you before, Isolde. You as well, Thyra.”
My sister’s expression, as hard as a blade, revealed the slightest shock before she hid it again.
“How?” she demanded.
“I live in a Drassil tree,” the Shadow Fae waved a hand up at the leaves. “Tending it takes much of my time, but like all Drassils, mine connects to others—like the ones Isolde has communed with. Like the one at Valrun Castle, the same tree you often stare at, Thyra Falk.”
My sword lowered. “Have I spoken with you?”
“Alas no,” he said. “I’m not of this kingdom and cannot speak through your other holy trees, just this one. But I can listen. I can watch.”
I didn’t believe him. Something in the way he spoke made me think he was lying. Could Shadow Fae lie?
I knew next to nothing about the exterminated race of fae.
Those that sought to take over all of Isila and bathe the land in darkness.
To devour the light in more ways than one.
Maybe an ability to lie was part of what made other fae despise them so?
That and the Shadow Faes’ tendency to violence, of course.
“When did you listen?” I needed to learn more, to see if I should trust this creature.
“The day you stopped in Traliska was the first time I heard you,” the fae replied. “Then I heard whispers the day you wed the prince. A marriage blessed by the Faetia and the stars, was it not?”
“What’s your name? Vale asked. “And why are you in a holy tree? Are you from another world?”
The idea hadn’t occurred to me, but yes, what Vale suggested made sense.
Drassils, like certain places in Isila, were said to be hinges—areas where gateways could most easily be made.
Sometimes natural portals formed there ever so briefly too.
Hinges were as rare as snow in the Summer Court, but they existed. Somewhere. Sometimes.
“From this world,” he replied. “Once, I roamed the lands of Isila. At that time, I had many names.”
“Give one,” Vale retorted, his tone hard.
“King érebo of House Nikao, ruler of the Shadow Isles, husband to Queen Nyxa of House Skialo.”
My heart fell to my knees. He was not just any Shadow Fae, but the Shadow King.
“Why would a king believed to be dead be watching me through the trees?” I asked.
“You intrigue me, Isolde.”
Thyra stepped closer to the tree, and Thantrel made to follow, but my sister swept a hand out, not wishing for him to protect her.
“All this is interesting enough, but we’re here for the Ice Scepter. We feel it, and seeing as you’re stuck in a tree, I have to ask, is it in there with you?”
Again, he laughed. “I know of the Scepter, but I believe that I have answered enough questions. If you wish to know more, you must give me something in return.”
“What do you want?” Thyra asked.
“I wish for you and your sister to come closer,” he replied. “To touch the bark of my tree, so that we may speak without others listening.”
I recoiled. Nothing in me wished to comply, but Thyra cast an expectant glance back at me.
“Come on.” Desire for the Ice Scepter sat heavy on her face.
“I’m not sure this is a good idea, Thyra.”
“I won’t hurt you,” said King érebo. “I only wish to speak privately, and no matter how low I whisper, we all know that the others will hear. Particularly the vampires.”
No answer escaped my lips right away, and in the silence that permeated the cavern, a sound came from above. Skittering?
I looked up. Found nothing.
“Please, Neve,” Thyra whispered. “We need the last Hallow. If we’re to take our home back, if we’re to avenge our family, we need it.”
As it stood, Thyra had a band of rebels who had been fighting King Magnus on and off for many turns.
I had my friends, my powerful mate, and the dwarves of Dergia.
That small force could not stand up against the royal army, Roar’s forces, and likely those of Houses Ithamai, Qiren, and Vagle too.
Perhaps I could convince a few noble houses to side with me, but to ask them to fight their king was a very large matter indeed.
They would want to be certain that we’d succeed, or the fates of their houses would be dire.
Having all three Hallows would surely help to sway the great houses I hoped to ally with.
“You won’t hurt us?” I asked.
“I only wish to speak, not harm you.” He pressed his palms to the bark. An invitation.
“Fine.”
“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Vale said.
I turned to look my mate in the eyes. “The matter is mine and Thyra’s to decide, my love. We need the Scepter.”
For a beat, we only stared into one another’s eyes.
He loved me, and I loved him, and of course he wanted to make sure I was safe.
But I saw the moment that Vale acquiesced and understood why he did not push.
My mate was a warrior. He knew that risk was often necessary for great reward. “I’m with you.”
“Until the stars fall.” I smiled at my mate before moving to Thyra’s side.
In step with one another, we approached the tree, pausing only to exchange glances before placing our hands on the rough bark, right where the Shadow Fae’s hands were.
It’s been so long since another fae touched me. The King of Shadows sighed. That it is you two makes it all the better.
Why? I asked mentally.