Chapter 18 Rhianelle #2
“I’ll oversee the fortifications,” Aelfric volunteers. “We can’t fight them on completely open ground. I’ll take teams out to the Plateau now, start digging trenches, raising palisades, anything to slow down those mammoths.”
“Do it. Take whatever resources you need,” I say.
Aelfric bows. “I’ll leave within the hour.”
Lord Wesley and Lord Nemarion do the same. I see the determination in their eyes. They are ready to die if that is what this battle demands of them.
One by one, the Aldarelf commanders step forward. Some pledge their household guards. Others offer archers, healers, mages, every available Noctral, and every able-bodied warrior under their command. No one speaks of surrender. No one asks what will happen if we lose.
They already know.
“Prepare your forces,” I tell them. “Make certain every soldier understands the plan before we march.”
Chairs scrape across the floor as the commanders rise. The room empties in a steady stream of armor, cloaks, and grim faces until only my closest circle remains.
“Your Highness,” Vayne says, his deep voice respectful but firm. “My warriors and I will fight to our last breath. You have my word as Prince of Myrkheim.”
Blaire flinches at his words but doesn’t look at him. Her knuckles are white where she grips the edge of the table.
“You have my gratitude, Prince Vayne,” I say, and he bows before leaving with the others.
It is almost too much to bear. All these people willing to sacrifice everything for the kingdom. They would march into fire because they trust their queen. I cannot afford to fail them.
The mate bond between me and Landon thrums painfully in my chest. It pulls at me like a fishhook in my heart. I press my hand against it, willing the pain away. But it doesn’t fade.
“Rhianelle?” Rainer’s voice sharpens. “What’s wrong?”
Pain tears through the bond so violently that my knees buckle.
The floor rushes toward me, but Shade catches me before I strike it. One arm circles my waist while the other braces my shoulder.
“Easy,” he says.
He guides me toward the dark throne chair beside the strategy table. Arescaine moves at the same instant, appearing before me so quickly that his body seems to form from the shadows.
Shade lowers me into the chair. The throne is carved from black wood and crowned with twisting horns, more suited to a conquering king than an elven queen. I think Garrett made it. I don’t know why even a chair can leave an ache in the empty places of my memory.
Another wave of agony pulses through the bond. I clutch my chest.
Landon.
They are hurting him.
Shade’s wolf companion barks, sharp and worried. He presses against my knee.
I lower a trembling hand to his head, stroking the fur between his ears.
“I’m all right,” I whisper.
The doors burst open and Cedwyn hurries into the room, his face pale. Several members of Landon’s legion raise their heads when Cedwyn enters.
“Your Highness,” Cedwyn says. “We’ve confirmed the report. Landon is being held beneath the Palace of Bones.”
Alys makes a broken sound and covers her mouth. Around her, Landon’s warriors lower their heads. Theo turns away, his shoulders trembling.
“The information reached us too easily. Whoever sent it wanted us to know exactly where he is,” Cedwyn says, looking from me to the others. “The enchantress wants something.”
“Me,” I whisper, the pieces clicking together with horrible clarity. “She wants me.”
“What could she possibly want from you?” Garrett asks, confused.
I don’t have an answer, but I’m certain that whatever it is, it’s nothing good.
“Your Highness.” Darstan’s voice pulls me back. “With your permission, I’d like to say something.”
He steps forward. Darstan looks around the room, meeting each person’s eyes in turn, before his gaze settles on me.
“Your Highness, you should go save Landon,” he finally says.
A murmur passes through the room.
“What?” Rainer’s voice rises above the others.
I stare at my oldest knight, my heart pounding. “Darstan, I can’t abandon the kingdom.”
“You’re not abandoning anything,” he says. I see the desperation in his eyes now, the fear he usually keeps buried so deep. “Your Highness, I have a son. His name is Aldric.”
Little Aldric.
Darstan looks at Siofra, and the hardness in his face softens. “He has his mother’s eyes and my stubborn temperament. I think about him every time I put on this armor.”
I feel tears burning in my own eyes.
“I wonder whether he will grow up in a safe world or spend his life running from the horrors the Fae King will unleash if we lose,” Darstan continues.
He turns back to me. “I realized something. Winning one battle will not end this war. The only people who may be able to stop it are you and the Fae King.”
Siofra’s hands move. “Aldric is safe right now in the temple of Anastarros. I will fight here for his future.”
Her gaze does not waver from mine. “You must fight for it another way.”
I blink and stare at her, stunned by her words.
“But who will lead the army?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. “If I’m gone, who—”
“I will.”
Everyone turns to stare at Blaire.
“I’ll lead them,” she repeats, stronger now. “I can dye my hair silver and put on your armor. From a distance, in the chaos of battle, the enemy won’t know the difference. They’ll think you’re here, fighting alongside your people.”
“Blaire,” I protest, my voice thick with emotion. “I can’t ask this of you.”
“I’m the Maiden of Arawynn,” she says. “I channel the power of a goddess. And I know you, Rhianelle. I know how you think, how you move.”
“We’ll make them believe their queen is on that battlefield,” Siofra agrees. “We’ll give such a performance that the Fae Prince himself will think you’re there.”
This is insane. I can’t possibly leave my kingdom in the hands of others while I run off to rescue my mate. But I look at Darstan’s face, at the desperate hope in his eyes as he speaks of his son growing up safe. I look at Siofra and all of them.
I realize they’re right.
I am a healer and a summoner, not a skilled close-combat warrior.
Once the creatures of Astefar are called and bound to our cause, my presence on the battlefield will add little.
I could remain here and fight, but even if we survive this assault, the war will not end.
The Fae King will attack again and again until nothing remains of Aelfheim but ash and memory.
But if I can reach him, and if Landon can persuade the king he once served, we might stop this war before either army is destroyed.
“Your Highness.” Garrett steps forward. “You’ve given everything for this kingdom. Let us give something back and fight so you can save the one person who might actually stop this war. I will come with you.”
Shade’s wolf gives a low whine and looks toward Garrett.
“I don’t know what we’ll be walking into.” I shake my head.
“You won’t be doing this alone,” Rainer says immediately. “I’m not letting my niece walk into an enemy stronghold by herself. Where you go, I go.”
Shade rests one hand on the hilt of his blade. “I’m going too.”
The wolf barks sharply beside him, then steps forward as though volunteering too.
My heart swells with gratitude and terror. Every person who follows me is another life I could lose beneath the Palace of Bones.
Cedwyn straightens. “I’m only a scribe now, but I was trained as a knight. I want to come with you, my queen.”
“And me.”
The voice comes from behind me. I turn to find Arescaine standing in the doorway, the shadows gathered around him like a cloak.
“We’re losing the light. The Noctrals won’t be able to carry us once darkness falls,” he says. “You’ll need someone who can use shadow portals to move quickly. And if those cells were built to hold powerful fae, ordinary magic will not be enough to breach them.”
His gaze settles on me. “I can get you inside.”
The room is silent. I think everyone knows the complicated truth. Arescaine is more to me than I can remember. But no one says anything.
“All right,” I finally say. “The six of us will go to Avalon. We’ll find the deep cells and we’ll free Landon.”
The wolf barks again, louder this time, and plants himself beside Shade.
Despite everything, a small smile pulls at my mouth. I crouch and stroke the fur between his ears. “You too. The seven of us.”
He presses his head into my palm.
I rise and look at Darstan. A father fighting for his son’s future is the most dangerous kind of warrior. The only thing that can rival that is perhaps a mother’s resolve. I turn to Siofra and find the same fierce determination burning in her eyes.
They will hold Aelfheim.
I have to trust them.