Chapter 45
Draven
Islammed the barrier with everything I had, the blow echoing like distant thunder.
Ice slammed outward from my palms, Winter answering my call in a violent surge that would have shattered stone and bone alike. Instead, it rebounded, the force snapping back into me and driving me a half step backward.
The wall held. It shimmered with faint traces of golden mana, Thornhart wardcraft that was infuriatingly well made. My hatred for the Unseelie had never before extended to Thornharts. They had never been my enemies.
And yet here I was, caged within my own kingdom by shields strong enough to turn aside Winter itself.
I prowled the perimeter of the domed barrier. It spanned the width of the main road and just a little beyond. Blue flames from the burning buildings licked against the golden walls, but they didn’t breach them.
My breath fogged thick and fast, my fingers flexing as frost crawled instinctively along my knuckles.
The image Everly had shown me still burned behind my eyes. Unseelie banners snapping in the storm. Not just Skaldwings hovering above the walls, but Lupines who held the front lines, their teeth bared in anticipation, as if they had been starved for a fight like this.
Shadeclaws who lurked at the back, like they were waiting to see which way the blood would spill.
And the Thornharts who held the center of the frost-forsaken-formation, antlers lifted, their expressions solemn. They were prepared to fight, but there was clearly no hunger in it. Just a grim resolve.
Confusion gave way to anger as I stared the ones in front of me down. I needed to get back to Everly. To find her shards-damned sister, and face down the armies standing at my gates.
“I have no fight with you,” I growled, my voice carrying across the snow. “So why in the hells are you here?”
Even as I said it, I pictured the answer on a report shoved my way by my Lord General. An entire herd dead. Kill on sight.
One of the Thornharts stepped forward.
He moved with the deliberate calm of someone who did not need to prove his strength. Broad antlers swept back from his brow, their weathered tines traced with the faint golden sheen of his mana.
“I am Halwyr Oakbound,” he said, voice deep and steady, carrying easily through the storm. “Grovewarden of the Thornharts.”
Grovewarden… Which was essentially their king.
“It’s a pity you have chosen today to come all this way,” I replied coldly. “But as you can see, I am quite busy at the moment.”
I gestured toward the Frostdrakes circling the skies above us and the buildings devoured by blue flames.
Halwyr’s gaze didn’t waver, and he continued on as if I hadn’t spoken.
“Your soldiers slaughtered one of our nomadic tribes as they fled from frostbeasts that made their way into our territory,” he said flatly, resignation rather than fury bleeding into his words.
Ice tightened along my spine. I remembered the expression Eryx wore as he handed me the parchment. Remembered his question before I read it… if I wanted to keep the order to kill them on sight.
“They were mistaken for a hostile force,” I explained tightly. “My soldiers were given orders to protect Winter from—”
“Children?” Halwyr asked, his brown eyes brimming with accusation. “Fawns? Elders? A group of unarmed fae who were seeking refuge?”
I bristled. Frost curled along my skin, a little more with each word.
Golden mana stirred at the Grovewarden’s feet, sinking into the earth like it might just coax life from the frozen ground.
Around him, the other Thornharts shifted as one, their movements fluid and controlled, as they waited for my reply.
“Entering a kingdom at war comes with inherent risk,” I said coldly. “That truth does not change because the travelers were weary or afraid. The borders between our peoples exist for a reason. And hesitation in chaos like this is what gets my people killed.”
The words tasted like iron, but I didn’t take them back. I wouldn’t.
Halwyr’s jaw tightened, though his voice remained steady. “And so you deemed them acceptable losses.”
“I deemed them unknowns crossing from one armed territory to another during an active crisis,” I replied. “I cannot afford mercy that endangers Winter.”
A murmur rippled through the Thornharts. Not outrage as much as grief.
The Grovewarden drew a slow breath, grounding himself. The golden mana at his feet brightened, threading through the snow in root-like patterns.
“Thornharts are not blind to war,” he said.
“We know what it demands. But we are not your soldiers to spend. The tribe only crossed your borders because your monsters first crossed into our lands and chased them there. They came to you believing Winter would offer shelter.” His gaze hardened. “You taught them otherwise.”
Anger flared to the surface, cutting through the unease clawing at my chest. Fate hadn’t given me the luxury of a kingdom at peace. It hadn’t offered me anything but war and bloodshed, and I adapted to survive.
Panic pulsed through the bond, and my thoughts raced back to Everly. I didn’t have time to debate the morality of choices I had already made when there were armies at my gates and my wife was in danger.
“My laws protect my Court… They protect my family,” I said. “And I will not dismantle them for a handful of outsiders—no matter how tragic their fate. Now release me. Because I will not ask again.”
Halwyr’s expression finally shifted. Not to fury, but something that might have been worse.
Acceptance.
“Then you leave us no choice,” he said quietly.
The barrier surrounding me shimmered. Several Thornharts stepped forward, passing through it as if it were mist.
Ice surged instinctively down my arms, frost racing over my skin as Winter coiled tight and ready beneath my ribs.
“I have never set out to kill your people, but I will not hesitate if you bring the battle to me.”
Golden mana rose in answer, bright and grounded, nature bracing itself against the cold.
The Thornhart warriors took their positions with measured grace, either with antlers dipping and hooves raking at the ground, or as weapons were drawn—staffs, blades, living wood bound with metal and carved with runes.
Above us, Frostdrakes screamed, circling lower with each pass and practically frothing at the jaws at the power gathering between us.
With a growl, I drew Winter fully into myself, ice blooming along my forearms until it took shape between my fists, unfurling like a great, frozen blade.
I wasn’t going to die here.
And if killing them was the price of the crown I wore, the price of saving my wife, then I would make them remember exactly why Winter had learned to fear its king.