CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Iopened my eyes to the scent of woodsmoke and the sight of a fae man with shoulder-length auburn hair and piercing green eyes kneeling before me, his hands around my neck.
Pain crept up my throat and I panicked, lifting my arms to shove him away.
“Careful,” he said, his voice low and soothing while he lifted his hands palms outward, as if indicating he meant no harm.
Heart throbbing in my temples, I heaved in a breath of air, noticing the swelling ache from Preston’s fingers had vanished. He was a healer. Calming slightly, I scanned the area I was in. I was seated on a heap of blankets before a fire, surrounded by rustling canvas. Chilly, fresh air seeped in around us, but the pleasantly crackling fire combated the cold. An opening in the tent let the smoke swirl outside and granted a clear view to the starry night sky. The rest of the tent contained a wide cot and trunk in one corner, and a table laden with papers and maps and surrounded by chairs in another.
“Drink this,” the healer said before I could formulate a question, lifting a canteen toward me.
I frowned at it before slowly taking it from him. If my captors wanted me dead, they could have killed me rather than dragging me here—which I assumed was an army campsite somewhere near Silverfrost’s capital—and they certainly wouldn’t have bothered with healing the bruising and swelling along my neck. While I swallowed down a few gulps of cool water, the healer stood and paced toward the tent opening.
I stiffened. Though I wasn’t dead and I wasn’t tied to the chair, I assumed there were guards posted outside. Kindness that healing me had been, I was still a prisoner. I wasn’t sure I wanted the man with the soothing tone to leave, not when someone worse could take his place and begin an interrogation.
“Where am I?” I demanded.
The man paused, turning slowly. “I have a feeling you’ve already gathered you’re in our camp.”
“Far from the castle?”
Brow furrowed, his eyes dipped toward my neck before returning to my face. “Hate to be parted from your doting fiancé?”
“I hate to be kidnapped.”
His lips twitched like he was holding back a smile. “We will be happy to answer your questions, but there are a few others who would like to be present. Let me tell them you’re conscious and...feeling talkative.”
I tensed nervously as the man slipped out of the tent. Sitting up straight in my chair, I felt the back of my head. No lump or ache. He must have healed that injury too. I stretched my mind toward my magic, wondering if there were enchantments placed on the camp that would prevent me from drawing on it. But before I could summon any ice or snow, the healer was back, trailed by three more people.
The first made my heart leap with momentary hope—a human woman, with long, black hair bound in a crown braid and intelligent blue-grey eyes. There wasn’t a hint of that blank, glazed look the glamoured servants in Silverfrost possessed. But she was clothed in a finely embroidered tunic and trousers in shades of crimson, black, and gold—matching the attire the healer and the two others, both also fae men, wore. Perhaps the fact that she was human wouldn’t endear me to her, not if she was apparently allied with the Ashwood kingdom closely enough to sport their colors.
Behind her, a tall man with a handsome face that looked carved from stone and inky hair studied me with sharp eyes. Something in his gaze made a chill creep over my skin that had nothing to do with the cool air gusting into the tent. He was not one to underestimate.
At his side, a shorter man with blond hair and warm brown eyes crossed his arms. A smile played about his face.
I wasn’t sure which troubled me more—the emotionless look of the first man or the amused expression of the second. Did he find kidnapping women to be amusing?
“We’re not here to hurt you,” the blond man said, his tone friendly. His gaze snapped to where I held my hands before me, fingers curled into fists.
I glanced down and realized why he was grinning: I’d encased my hands entirely in ice. Cheeks heating, I lowered my hands and focused on retracting my magic, waiting for my fingers to thaw before tangling them in the skirts of my dress to warm them.
“Not unless you hurt us,” the dark-haired man ground out.
Eyes flashing, the woman elbowed him. “That’s not how you reassure a woman you’ve kidnapped,” she snapped. Schooling her features into kindness, she stepped forward. “But Holden is right. We didn’t bring you here to hurt you. My name is Elle Blackford, princess of Ashwood.” She gestured to the cold-faced man. “This is my husband, Prince Fitz.” The blond man moved closer. “That’s his brother, Prince Holden.” Lastly, she turned to the healer. “And this is Kinsey, a trusted friend...and, as you know, a healer.”
Elle paused a few feet away from me. She waited a moment, as if hoping I’d supply my own name. When I didn’t, she continued with her story. “We heard the rumors about a human being taken by the Silverfrosts—a woman with magic. But we had no idea what was true or even if you were betrothed to the king willingly until Fitz saw him attacking you. That was when we knew we had to get you out.”
I watched her carefully. “If you meant me no harm, why knock me senseless and drag me out of there?”
Elle shot Holden a look, and he shuffled on his feet, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully. “I’m sorry about that. I don’t see well in the storms Elle and Fitz wield, and while searching for you...well, I thought at first I’d come upon King Preston.”
I folded my hands in my lap, listening to the logs snap in the fire as silence settled over us. Did they want an apology from me? A story about my life and who I was? Gratitude for carrying me unconscious out of the castle?
At last, I swallowed against the dryness in my throat. “What happened when you invaded? Were many of the guests killed? Did you slay Preston and Nerissa?” I frowned thoughtfully. “If the castle is now yours, wouldn’t we be there?”
“As far as we know, the king and queen still live,” Prince Fitz answered, his tone a low rumble. “Not enough of our forces have converged on the capital to launch a full-scale attack. We were too outnumbered. Instead, we settled for finding you.” His gaze latched onto me pointedly.
As if they found me significant. Because they sympathized with humans, like Garrick had hinted? Or because they knew I was the true heir to the throne?
“And Preston got away,” Holden muttered bitterly.
“There was infighting as we left,” Kinsey interjected, and I turned to him, my attention rapt. The rebels must have chosen to make a move, perhaps thinking the chaos could be best used to their advantage. “But we didn’t linger. I couldn’t say who won the struggle, or how many perished in it.”
I sucked in a breath, thinking of Preston’s threats. If he and Nerissa lived, they knew of Aspen’s plotting and would ensure she suffered for it.
“How long has it been?” I asked, glancing up at the hole in the tent, trying to catch a glimpse of the moon.
“A couple of hours at most,” Elle said. “We had Kinsey heal your injuries as soon as we arrive.”
I studied each of their faces, trying to determine if I could trust them. Despite what Garrick had told me about possibly finding safety in Ashwood, I knew better than to believe fae that claimed they’d rescued me out of the goodness of their hearts. Especially when Ashwood was at war with Silverfrost. I didn’t know their motives, though I suspected taking me as a hostage could play to their advantage. What if they knew who I was, what value I possessed to the kingdom?
Even to Preston and Nerissa. They needed me alive for the solstice so I could open the entrance for them—that much was obvious, or they would have slain me long ago and filled a vial with my blood to use instead.
It was Kinsey who finally broke the silence, sliding a chair from the table over to the fire and sitting across from me. “I understand your hesitancy to trust us. But the only reason we are here fighting is because Silverfrost invaded our kingdom first. They’ve been slaying our people and causing problems for us all autumn, and we knew if we didn’t press hard toward an advantage now, before winter sets in, we might lose our hope of any chance of victory at all.”
“They’re toying with you,” I said. “Preston and Nerissa don’t plan for their fae army to overtake Ashwood.”
Prince Fitz and his brother shared a look before turning back to me. “What do you mean?” Fitz asked. “Why would they squander resources and soldiers on some...game?”
I leaned forward, resting my head in my hands. Though I felt no pain from the blow I’d sustained earlier, my mind was reeling. The information Preston had shared with me—the awful vision—wouldn’t stop flashing through my thoughts. A heavy weariness settled in my bones as I considered the actual fight before me, not one against powerful fae, but against undead souls who feasted on the living to sustain themselves. Who wielded death magic. Who couldn’t die again.
“I need to know,” I said slowly, taking measured breaths to calm myself, “what your motive is regarding Silverfrost. Do you intend to take it for yourselves? Will you harm the people? The servants?”
When I glanced up, Elle’s focus was intent on me. It was she, not Fitz or Holden, who answered, her grin conspiratorial. “We heard other rumors about you. That you wield magic because you’re half-fae, the lost heir to the Silverfrost throne itself. We don’t want your kingdom, Florentia Silverfrost. We want to help you take your throne.”
“Why?” I blurted.
Elle quirked a brow. “Because something tells me that, especially after we offer you our help, you won’t continue the war your predecessors began against our kingdom.”
“And we grow tired of losing our people in a needless fight,” Fitz cut in, his voice firm.
Before I could react, there was a cry outside the tent, followed by a feral growl. The hairs on my arms rose as everyone around me stiffened, hands flying to sword hilts. Storm clouds roiled in the tent corners, electricity tingling around us.
The four Ashwoods leapt for the tent entrance, and I threw myself from my chair to follow them. As they darted out into the cold night, I followed, scanning the few tents scattered nearby. Occupants were already spilling from their mouths, armed with daggers, bows, and swords. I caught a flash of white as a wolf charged from the shadows, mouth bloodied. Nearby, one of the guards stationed at the tent grimaced and pressed a hand to her bleeding shoulder.
Prince Fitz lifted his hands, clouds and lightning clashing in a powerful display as the storm gathered around us. Even outside Ashwood, with autumn breathing its last gasp, his magic was still formidable.
“Wait!” I shouted. “Please don’t hurt him!”
Holden and Kinsey hesitated, their hands on sword hilts. Fitz scowled, but Elle seemed to understand before he did—or perhaps, as a human, she was more willing to trust me quickly. She seized his wrist, jolting his attention to her. With a sigh, he released his magic and the storm clouds disintegrated.
I spun toward the wolf, meeting his familiar gold eyes. “Garrick. It’s all right. I’m all right.”
There was a beat where my breath misted between us as I waited, fearing he wasn’t under his own control and would continue to fight anyway. Feared how the Ashwoods would harm him if he lashed out against their own. But then, in a blink, Garrick was standing before us, clothed in the same leathers and fur vest he’d worn at the ball, though this time, he was dripping with knives and daggers fastened not only to his belt but also to leather bands strapped across his chest.
Eyes wary on the Ashwoods, he stepped toward me, his pace quickening until his hands settled on my shoulders. “Are you all right?” he demanded, scanning my body for injuries. His every muscle was taut, still poised to fight.
“Yes, they didn’t want to hurt me. They took me from Preston when he was dragging me to the dungeons.”
Garrick’s eyes burned with cold fury. “Did he touch you?”
My hand flew to my neck, brushing my unbruised skin. “The Ashwood healer helped.”
Garrick’s chest heaved. “Curse this...” He shook his head, unable to speak plainly about his blood oath per whatever rules the siblings had bound him to. “This restriction. I need to tear his throat out.”
Prince Fitz stepped forward, Elle at his side. “Who are you?” he demanded, studying Garrick warily. “Our people are at war, and you’ve invaded my camp and wounded one of my people. Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you.”
Garrick growled low in his throat, as if he were considering transforming back into a wolf any second.
Elle’s eyes narrowed. “Fitz. Why not wait for our guest to explain who he is before you start making threats?” She turned to me, arching a brow in a way that warned me her patience was only a little greater than that of her husband.
“He’s an ally,” I said hurriedly, clutching Garrick’s arm. “Garrick Darkgrove. He attacked only to rescue me.”
Garrick cast me a sidelong glance. “You trust them?”
I gave a single nod. “They know who I am. They want to help me take the throne and end the war.”
At Fitz’s side, Holden broke into a warm grin. “Another ally? Welcome.”
Fitz shot his brother a look, clearly still doubtful of Garrick’s intentions, but Elle grasped his hand, threading her fingers through his, and the gesture seemed to calm him. “If you trust him,” she told me smoothly, “then we do too.”
Over her shoulder, I noticed Kinsey was already at the female guard’s side, his hand pressed to the wolf bite in her arm. “I’m sorry about your guard.”
Garrick ducked his head, looking sheepish. “I am as well.” He glanced at the woman, who was flexing her arm, a healthy flush already returned to her cheeks thanks to Kinsey’s ministrations.
“I suppose it was an honest enough mistake, when you thought you were rescuing the woman you love from danger,” Prince Fitz murmured. “But we never meant her any harm.”
“Starlight,” Garrick murmured close to my ear, “they need to know. Preston and Nerissa sent me and could use—”
I squeezed his hand, silently cutting him off, noticing the way Elle was watching us. Had she and the others heard? I didn’t want them to start doubting Garrick’s loyalty, even if I understood his fears. They needed to know the whole story first. I bit the inside of my cheek, hesitating. “Could we return to the tent? We have much to discuss.”