Chapter Forty-Two
Réalta Avermont
My knuckles turned white as I gripped Fidela’s reins, staring at the skies above, waiting for the signal to lead my soldiers into the fight.
“Come on, where are you, Gilen?”
“He’ll be here,” Captain Wyndfall said at my side. “Trust him.”
I squared my shoulders, my nostrils filling with the pine trees surrounding us as time seemed to trickle at a snail’s pace. I could feel the tension rising beyond our hideaway. Magic flowed in invisible waves from the earth below our feet as if Valdor itself had become aware of our fight.
Then, in the distance, light refracted off an object in the sky, followed by flames and the thunder of thousands of marching feet and battle cries.
The fight had begun, but where was Gilen?
My mind raced with my beating heart, memories springing forth from when Gilen captured us on the outskirts of Burns.
He hadn’t taken us to my father or Minaeve.
Instead, he returned us to the Rainbow Woods, ripped the pendant from my throat, and confiscated Wyndfall’s sword, telling the handful of High Fae with him to remain hidden until he returned.
I assumed he was reporting to Minaeve with evidence so she could handle us herself, but thank the gods above, I was wrong.
It took Gilen six days to return to us. And when he did, he was beaten and battered, with a split lip and blackened eye. I remembered being shocked to see him in this state, knowing that many more bruises were likely concealed beneath his clothes.
When he entered our camp, Gilen knelt before me and confessed everything.
He told me of the challenge he lost to Skylar, of how she spared him, and how he finally felt at peace, no longer burdened with a role he never wanted.
He owed Skylar everything, and he was determined to earn back her trust and honor his alpha.
So, when she returned to Solace to help ferry their people to safety, she asked him to take on this task—to become a spy.
He would gain the enemy’s trust, break the pack bond, and then… deliver a killing blow to their enemy.
I couldn’t explain why I believed him, but my instincts were screaming at me to trust him, to reach out my hand and allow this thread of hope for a new beginning to take root.
Gilen returned the enchanted parchment to further prove himself, but Wyndfall was adamant about asking Skylar if all this was true.
Her response was dramatically delayed, but she confirmed everything Gilen had told us.
Together, we allied with a handful of High Fae that falsified their blood oath to Minaeve on Seamus’s orders and rallied the other human troops at my back.
“Easy, Fidela,” I said, rubbing her neck in small circles. “Wait until we see him.”
My mare’s ears flicked, sensing the pulse of magic rolling toward us from the mountain pass. The distant clamor of steel and the guttural roars of spell-born creatures rattled through the valley. Fidela danced beneath me, following the rhythm of countless other mounts anxiously pacing in place.
Then, a screeching call tore through the sky, piercing the building tension in the line of soldiers sitting atop their steeds, ready for battle. Horses neighed and bucked at the sound. Their riders strived to remain calm and to steady their beasts.
Beside me, Wyndfall snapped his head up and pointed to the sky. “There!”
I followed his gaze as a streak of flames arced over the nearby treetops, spiraling like a falling star before exploding into a burst of radiant light.
My heart thundered in my chest at the sight of my cousin in all her glory. “Skylar.”
And then, following the flames sprang a magnificent roc with golden feathers. Gilen soared high into the sky before diving back down toward the earth with a powerful gust of wind, deflecting an array of arrows aimed to take him down.
“Ready yourselves!” Wyndfall roared.
The ground trembled as our soldiers gathered their weapons while our cavalry tightened their reins to keep their horses in check.
I lowered myself over Fidela’s neck. “Ready, girl?”
She nickered in reply as I leaned up and turned my attention to the sky.
“For Valdor!” I yelled, squeezing my legs and releasing the pull of my reins. My mare launched like an arrow toward the fray, with my people riding alongside me.
Once we cleared the trees, with the White Fang Mountains at our backs, the battlefield unfolded before us.
The pass between the mountain ranges, once a peaceful valley of lush greenery, was now a wound carved into the scorched earth.
Shattered boulders lay in ruin from the mountain’s base, where magical assaults from mages had struck moments before.
A cacophony of dust and smoke from Skylar’s fires hung in the air, turning the sunlight into fractured shards of color.
My lungs burned with the thick scent of scorched pine, grass, and burning flesh, yet we rode on to the battlefield.
“My gods.” I gasped, eyes wide with fear.
A shriek erupted from the sky as Gilen, in his roc form, swooped down beside me. I pulled on my mare’s reins as he shifted in midair, rolling in the grass before springing back onto his feet. “Our northern flank is exposed!” he shouted over the chaos. “We need reinforcement!”
“Then you shall have it,” I said. “Wyndfall, to the north!”
Gilen gave me a blunt nod in thanks.
“Here,” I said as I withdrew a sword from my side. “I have a feeling you’ll need this.”
Gilen looked at the blade and chuckled. “Thank you, Princess, but I’ll manage just fine with my own talons.”
“Very well,” I said, shaking slightly as I sheathed the weapon.
Gilen arched his brow and asked, “Do you know how to use that?”
I swallowed heavily. “I… um—”
“Look out!” a soldier shouted as what looked to be a beast from hell appeared near our line.
A massive misshapen dog with eyes the color of blood, brown fur, and spikes along its spine stared me down, its terrifying jaws gaping open as it leaped for me atop Fidela. I didn’t have time to think, let alone pull the blade free at my side and save myself. I’d never been trained to fight.
Shutting my eyes, I tensed, caging what I believed to be my final breath in this world.
Suddenly, a rush of wind raced over me, followed by a muffled whimper of a dying monster taking its last breath. I pried my eyes open, gasping as the dead beast hung from a massive talon.
“Gilen?”
Gilen shifted back onto his two legs and gave me a pitiful look. “Looks like you’re with me, Princess. Can’t have the future ruler of the human lands dying on my watch. What skills do you have?”
“I—” I shuddered, still shaken by the horrifying beast lying dead at his feet. “I have some basic healing skills. I can help tend to the wounded.”
Gilen nodded. “Good, there’ll be a lot of them.”
Ahead, Captain Wyndfall lifted his horn and blew a single, piercing note that cut through the screams and clashing steel. Our forces answered with a roar that shook the marrow of my bones, turning to charge north.
I forced my hands to stop shaking, putting on my mask and looking the shifter square in the eye. “Lead the way.”
Gilen shifted once more and took to the skies. Wyndfall drew his sword, raised it to the gods above, and charged into the battle with a victorious snarl. I kicked Fidela, and she surged forward. The battlefield continued to rage before us in a storm of magic, fire, and fury.
With Gilen watching me from overhead, I raced to a fallen High Fae dressed in black battle armor with three silver peaks along his shoulder, blood streaming down a fresh cut on his arm.
I dismounted and quickly reached into the supplies hanging on my saddlebag and began wrapping the wound, praying it would hold.
“Thank you,” the High Fae said as he sprang to his feet and charged back into the fight.
I wiped sweat from my brow as my heart rate began to settle. My eyes scanned the chaos, looking for the next ally to help.