Chapter Three
Skylar Cathal
The city was frantic, and yet, I had never felt so calm.
Determination guided my footsteps as Castor escorted me through Silver Meadows and toward the harbor. The others would not be coming with us to say goodbye. It would be too difficult if they all came with me.
As we walked, I admired how resilient Silver Meadows was.
The people were diligently repairing the damage caused by fires and the soldiers who had ravaged their homes.
Even the children were lending a helping hand, caring for the wounded, or assisting the adults with various small tasks to rebuild their proud city.
Buckets of water were carried from the sea and the tranquil green river to cool the burning embers of the buildings that were left standing. The wounded were gathered near the archives tower for treatment, which thankfully was left untouched.
Not even Minaeve would threaten the guarded history of their people.
As Castor led me through the city, however, all eyes and busy hands paused to watch us pass through.
There were whispers back and forth, and I would be lying if I weren’t afraid of what messages they might carry.
Did the people blame me for all of this?
For Daxton’s imprisonment… For their home and families being destroyed?
As the harbor came into view, a familiar face stepped into our path.
“Stand aside,” Castor said in a warning tone.
Despite a direct order from his prince, the male refused to move.
“We have something to say.”
“You realize we’re on a tight schedule, and more time wasted means—”
“I know,” he cut in, hazel eyes highlighting contrasting whispers of silver that streaked his brown hair hanging just below his jawline.
“We all know this, my prince.” He paused, his gaze turning toward me.
“I do not mean any disrespect, but I come here as the voice of your people. She needs to hear this.”
I would always remember his face: the face of the High Fae cadet who helped carry Daxton into our rooms in Aelius. The male who fell from the Gauntlet and lived. Lived, because I was there in time to save him.
“Reece,” I answered, placing a hand on Castor’s shoulder, silently signaling to him that this was all right. We could spare this moment. “What do you have to say?”
“Be quick,” Castor mumbled, the lines on his forehead creasing with unease.
Reece was not a Silver Meadows warrior, but it was evident that he still fought to protect his people, and I’d be damned if I didn’t admire him for the strength of his heart.
His fine clothing was torn, pieces of his shirt burned away from combating the flames, yet still, he carried a graceful, poised demeanor. One worthy of royalty himself.
Reece stepped closer, tilting his chin in my direction as his nostrils flared and his eyes widened. “It’s true,” he whispered.
“Careful,” Castor said with a hard edge to his tone.
“It… It all makes perfect sense,” he said, threading his fingers through his smoke residue hair. “You’re the mate of our high prince.”
“Yes,” I answered, warmth spreading through my heart. “Daxton is my mate.”
Reece dropped to his knee before me, bowing his head. “What I came to tell you rings true regardless of this fact.” He paused, others around us stopping to watch with eyes and hearts full of wonder. “You have our gratitude, Skylar Cathal. We openly thank you for all you have done.”
“Thank me?” I stammered. “Your city was burning, and…”
“Yes,” Reece answered, raising his head. “Are you familiar with the concept of wildfires?”
“Well, yes,” I answered, skeptical about where this was going.
“Nature has a way of cleansing the land and beginning anew. A delicate balance of life and death.” His expression softened with kindness beaming from his smile.
“But this cannot happen until the earth is burned and given a chance to start over. This is our chance. Silver Meadows is eternally loyal to our high prince. And…” Reece paused, rising to his feet.
“We follow you, Champion. Our hope of rebirth and a new beginning.”
Castor was no help. In his typical fashion, his mask of deception was firmly set in place.
And I… well, I didn’t know what to say.
“I won’t keep you any longer. Gods-speed, Champion.” Reece smiled, gave me a final bow, and turned on his heels to leave.
The commotion of the city resumed its previous pace, confirming that Reece’s confession was nothing of note because it was something they all believed to be true. A fact.
“Come, Skylar,” Castor said, stepping to my side. “The Opal awaits.”
I followed his guided touch, meandering through the final streets leading to the harbor.
The wooden planks of the dock were steady against the crashing waves that swirled beneath the barrier.
Reece’s words on behalf of the citizens of Silver Meadows repeated over and over in my mind.
I was honored by what he said, but the gravity of those words was not lost on me.
The fae would follow me, but would the Solace pack do the same?
Two worlds tied together by one fate.
“Welcome back,” Fjorda announced as he lowered the walkway.
He leaned over the edge of his beautiful ship, so cleverly named the Opal, after the elegant accents of white.
“I knew you’d be calling sooner rather than later,” he added with a smirk that no doubt had brought a fair share of females onto this very ship, and possibly a few water nymphs.
“Hello, Captain,” I answered, stepping onto the walkway.
My boots creaked on the planks, my steps heavy, almost like stones were weighing them down.
“Are any companions coming with you this time?” Fjorda asked, his seafoam eyes churning with curiosity like the waves of the sea that held his heart.
His long brown hair swayed over his shoulder in tune with the wild ocean breeze. Reaching up a hand, he casually stroked his neatly trimmed beard, speckled with highlights of blond, patiently waiting for my reply.
Frozen in place, I paused at the final step on the plank. “No, not this time,” I rasped.
“I imagine you have an idea of how to cross the veil?” Fjorda asked
“Of course.” I scoffed. “I have a plan.”
“Is it safe?”
“Is any of this safe?” I dared, knowing that nothing in Valdor was ever truly safe—not with the wilt or Minaeve in power.
His grin stretched, sharpened canines beaming brightly on display. “Nothing on the seas ever is.”
“How fitting,” I said.
“Indeed. It’s part of the charm of my crew, and the fleet pledged to serve under my banner. The promise of the unknown. To live with the thrill of adventure.”
“Well, prepare yourself for one hell of a ride.”
“Gladly,” Fjorda replied, crossing his arms and leaning against the railing. The smell of the salty sea air transported us from the commotion of the mainland. “Why do you think I gave you the mark?”
A piece of me wondered if his loyalty could be trusted or if the excitement of chaos was his driving purpose for lending his aid.
“And before you begin asking questions as to my intentions,” he said, reading my unease, “the Opal will always answer the call from the High Prince of Silver Meadows. The prince who was promised, for I owe him a life debt, due countless times over, as does my ship and every member of my fleet, for the sacrifices he has made. The sea has our hearts, but he will always have our loyalty. Along with yours,” he said with a half-grin.
“I’m honored.”
Fjorda dipped his head and bit his bottom lip as his fingers tapped the hilt of the bejeweled sword at his hip. “Care to come aboard?”
Realizing I hadn’t taken that final step, I took a deep breath and crossed the threshold.
“I see you come well-armed this time around, Champion,” Fjorda added. “Is that the—”
“Yes,” I answered, noticing his gaze fixated on my chest plate. “This is the armor of Aegis.”
“I was commissioned to extract this armor from the depths of the Blue Hole. I know it well.”
I made a silent note to inquire more about that comment later.
“And is that the bow of Arabella, Daxton’s mother?”
I nodded, my fingers tracing over the silver-trimmed ebony weapon strapped to my back. I hoped my mate’s mother would approve of me wielding it.
“I added a few others as well.” I patted the hilt of a short sword, and daggers tucked along my outer thigh.
“Excellent,” Fjorda said with a hint of mischief. “Females with more bark than their bite are not meant to rule.”
Crew members moved around us, hurrying to prepare the ship for our voyage. Ropes were cast along the mast pillars, anchors raised from the sea floor, covered in seaweed with various small creatures clutching the metallic covering.
I gazed upward at the elegant white sails swaying in the wind. They waved with the circling gusts along the shoreline between Starfall Island and Silver Meadows. Riding the wildness of the currents that held the fate of countless seafarers.
“Skylar.”
My spine stiffened in anticipation, knowing I couldn’t refuse the call. I turned around to see Castor standing alone at the end of the dock. His head was held high with the regal air of his stature, in the steadying breaths he forced himself to take.
“Prove my brother right,” Castor said on the wandering winds.
My heart surged, seeing the same look of determination and absolute faith I had seen in Daxton now reflected in Castor’s stare.
His silver and black fighting leathers shifted across his toned frame, his silver-white hair whipping across the hard lines of his face.
Twin swords were strapped to his back, with three silver mountain peaks visible on his shoulder.
He was ready to march north with Gunnar and the other Silver Meadows warriors.
Ready to fight and, if needed, die to free themselves.
“Return. And free us all,” he said.
All I could do was nod and hold back my tears.
“Cast the sails,” a sailor hollered as the white sheets filled above my head. The Opal drifted away from the shoreline.
My eyes never left Castor’s. He stood at the edge of the docks, immovable against the fearsome weight threatening to tear us all down.
I recalled a portrait of the late rulers of Silver Meadows hanging in the grand hallway.
While Daxton and Castor were the spitting image of their father, Castor had their mother’s cunning dark eyes, inheriting this trait along with his unique gift to foresee death when it was near.
I wondered what else he might see through the gifts of his mother’s bloodline, and if they somehow allowed him to see the world in a different light compared to those around him.
Solace was my homeland, but this place had become a safe haven and a refuge for me. Silver Meadows was as much my home now as perhaps Solace was.
The ship drifted far enough to catch the current separating the island from the Inner Kingdom, and with a burst of speed, Castor and the rest of Silver Meadows faded in the distance.