Chapter 20
KAELERON
The hot, smoky air of Fierel’s workshop curled around me, the heat and scent of it calming my mind and spirit as much as my task of keeping a promise to Saphira.
She would have her first token of her travels.
I sat in the corner of the open room, my sword and tunic jacket resting on the sturdy wooden bench beside me as I hunched over it, carefully working the silver I had blended with fae steel to give it strength and a connection to my court.
A fine sheen of sweat stuck the longer lengths of my onyx hair to my nape, and the braids I wore tucked behind my silver-capped pointed ears swung forwards as I leaned further over, peering at my work.
Fierel worked the bellows and the steel not far from me, the sounds he made as he moved between the forge and the anvil, and the ringing of hammer striking metal, filling my ears and my heart, lifting both.
I nimbly tooled another piece of the dagger, working on the hilt and trying to make it a perfect match for Saphira’s blade, one I had crafted with my own hands as well.
My breaths stilled as I carefully cut into the silver, the failed attempts scattered across the workbench taunting me. I had restarted this dagger that was no larger than the tip of my little finger several times already due to a missed stroke cutting off a detail or the shape just seeming wrong.
I missed her.
I could admit it here, without shaking my court.
I missed her deeply, but this act of creation grounded and calmed me, and seemed to connect me to her and fill that hollow in my chest where our bond had been.
This was the gift I would take to her when the time was right and we met again.
A reminder of my court—of me. Of her time here, and how precious it had been to both of us.
I set the miniature dagger down, regarding it as I allowed myself a break to take a breath. A king had to breathe.
Fierel uttered a greeting to a customer, guiding him out before he could notice me.
I was grateful to the old male for allowing me to use his workshop as my own for however long I wanted, a gift he had given me when I had approached him about it.
I had not even asked if I could use it, had not even said a word, before he had been ushering me inside and telling me to work for a while.
I knew by ‘a while’ he meant as long as I wanted.
Sometimes, I felt as if Fierel saw me as the son he never had.
His daughters had not been interested in learning the craft, and when Fierel had made his home here and I had approached him as a far younger male, wanting my armour repaired, and had expressed an interest in watching him work, Fierel had welcomed me with open arms.
And over the days that had followed, I had done more than merely watch.
It had started with Fierel noticing my interest in his process, and the request to help him that had followed it.
I had found happiness here, a passionate side of myself I felt had died that night with my parents, and in time I had found the courage to ask Fierel to teach me his craft.
And I had discovered something about myself in the process.
I strategized best when my hands were occupied.
The act of metalworking, whether it was hammering steel or tooling silver, freed up my mind and allowed me to think clearly, letting my thoughts flow uninhibited. Everything seemed simpler when I was making something.
I glanced at the ring on my finger, at the sapphire stone that told me she was still in the Summer Court, and then looked at the tiny dagger.
The only thing that was grounding me and keeping me from shaking my court.
It was not rage that she had been taken from me that made my mood darken, not anymore. It was the feeling of powerlessness and uselessness, the same feelings that had overcome me the night I had watched my mother die.
The feeling of being unable to protect someone I loved.
Only it was worse this time, because I did not know what was happening to Saphira.
I did not know whether she was hurt, or afraid, or suffering.
I closed my eyes and conjured her, reaching into my memories of her to calm myself as the darkness stirred and shadows grew restless around me.
I thought of her stubbornness, of how she had always bravely stood up to me, challenging me as I had challenged her. I thought of her strength. Her courage.
Her warmth.
It calmed me, pulling me back from the darkness and that dangerous slip towards rage.
I looked at the ring again. The only thing that connected me to her. I was not sure she was at the other end of it. I could only hope that she was—believe that she was—and that she knew I would come for her. I would not leave her there. In time, we would be together again.
Once all the pieces were set in motion.
Once my court was ready for her.
I picked up the dagger charm again, and the finest tool among the ones laid out near me, and went back to work.
Piecing together a strategy I felt sure would work.
I knew my little wolf, I knew how deeply she wanted to help me, how fiercely she wanted to give me revenge and discover what happened to my brother.
A revenge I no longer wanted. A brother I now felt had never reached the Summer Court, just as Oberon had insisted.
I wanted to know where he was, but Saphira would not find him for me there.
What she might find was a path to revenge, one that would trigger the agreement between myself and the high king.
It left me cold.
Elduin had already threatened war, and I knew the male well enough to know that if my vengeance against the Summer Court was completed that I would be forced to wed Vaeleryn. I would not have a choice.
Or perhaps I would.
War.
But could I truly risk my court for Saphira?
War against Ereborne would be devastating, and Ereborne would not be alone. The Nightmare Court would side with him. Would the Winter Court side with me? Would others become my allies against their own high king?
Would they side with me if they knew my intended queen was seelie?
I did not care, and I felt Rhyn would not either, but others might not look upon the match so kindly. Rhyn had never named his seelie mate as Winter Queen.
But I would name Saphira Shadow Queen.
How would my own court feel about that?
My mind raced down avenues as I worked, thoughts splitting and multiplying as I followed the paths to their conclusions, poring over every detail so nothing was left to chance.
Saphira would be my queen, and I would need to reshape my court to make it suitable for her.
Some among the nobles would need to be weeded out and dealt with, and making an example of them might cause others to fall into line.
The people would need to be informed, and I would appeal to those among them who knew her best, using them to convince others that she would be a good and gracious queen, regardless of her bloodline.
Ereborne would be a problem.
I twisted the tiny dagger in my fingers.
I needed allies.
Perhaps there was a way to win them to my side and deliver a message to Ereborne at the same time.
I sat back and looked at the wall in front of me, seeing beyond it in my mind to the mountains that bordered the Forgotten Wastes, tracking that range left towards Wraith Wood.
Mountains that were a source of a material greatly prized by all the unseelie courts.
The strongest fae steel in Lucia.
The wealth of my court came from those mountains and the endless demand for the steel mined there by the dwarves, the ceaseless trade for it filling my coffers with gold and the bellies of my people with food brought in from other courts.
I had reserves. I would need to check them, and made a mental note to do so when I returned to the castle, but I was sure that the Shadow Court could feed itself for several lunar cycles at minimum.
Cutting off supply might mean my court had to go without some luxuries or necessary items from other courts, and might make it more difficult to convince them to love Saphira as deeply as I did, but the first would be worth it if it strengthened my position and the second was something within the sphere of my control.
Jenavyr would call me reckless and would try to convince me not to do it.
So I would have to send notes to the mines, and to the docks to halt the ships, and then the courts, before she found out.
No steel would leave my lands for the time being.
I grinned at the tiny dagger.
It would also send a delightful message to Ereborne.
If Elduin wanted a war, he would have to do it with inferior weaponry and armour.
I marked down the first phases of my plan to reshape this court and make it fit for my queen, so I could have the future I wanted with her and she would feel as if she belonged here, as she had before the seelie had taken her.
She would be my queen.
No one could stop that from happening.
Screams rang out over the sound of metal striking steel behind me. Fierel’s blows stopped and dreadful silence fell like a thick shroud over us. I slowly pushed to my feet, sure I had not imagined that terrible sound tearing through the air.
Another shriek shattered the silence.
I grabbed my sword, not bothering to snatch my tunic jacket with it. I left it on my chair and raced bare-chested outside, into the square, my silver eyes narrowing as smoke billowed into the air on the other side of town, close to the main thoroughfare.
My head whipped right, towards the sea. No sign of boats. This attack had come from land. The Summer Court? It could not be. I would have felt the wards being breached since I had recently helped shore them up.
I kicked off, sprinting towards the smoke as screams and cries filled the air, as the thundering of boots joined them.
Several people raced past me in the opposite direction, some glancing at me, eyes filling with recognition before they were gone, left far behind me as shadows swirled around me and inky night swallowed me.