Chapter 51 David
DAVID
“She should know, David,” Faelad said.
The weight of his words pushed down on me. He stood in front of the arched tower window, thoughts drifting off into the distance.
Wyatt quietly swayed off to the side, arms crossed, pinning me with that I-told-you-so look.
I leaned heavily on the round council table, splaying my palms wide against the cool surface, trying to keep my anxiety in check.
No. It’d break her. My heart couldn’t bear the thought of her looking at me the way she did when she found out about her mother.
And if she knew the whole truth about everything I’ve kept from her—to protect her—she’d never forgive me. And then I’d never forgive myself . . .
“If word spread, there’d be a target on her back,” I said firmly, words tasting like embers on my tongue.
“She already has a target on her back!” Faelad’s voice snapped over his shoulder, his scrutiny condemning me.
Slowly, I eased back into my seat, feeling their expectations suffocate me.
“She just—” I hesitated, struggling to find the right words, not sure what I was defending anymore. “She just needs more time.”
“What you mean is you need more time,” Wyatt shot out. His voice sliced through the tension, seeing right through me. As always. My love and my thorn.
The stare I gave back was weak, half in defense, half in guilt.
“What of the Eostre Queen,” I asked, swiftly changing topics to snuff out my growing irritation.
“She’s agreed to make ya both honorary advisors since Loveland can’t be represented—so that’s a positive sign.
” Faelad’s brows pulled together, concern slipping into the lines of his forehead.
“Queen Ostera’s still convinced we’re overreacting—projecting our trauma, as she put it.
” He shook his head and scoffed. Then he turned to me.
“It’s crucial we have Eostre Land’s support, David.
” Faelad’s tone became drastically grave.
“That’s why I need ya to convince her—tell her what we all suspect the Skell King is doing.
Feel her out. Sway her court.” His golden eyes flared with determination. “We need them as an ally.”
Wyatt’s hand rubbed against his freshly shaved chin, ever the warrior, piecing together our next strategy.
“And what if she’s not convinced?” Wyatt questioned, voice even, but sharp as the blade he carried.
“Fates be damned,” Faelad let out a grave, humorless laugh.
“Then we’d need more luck than sense. It’s not like Vinterland will crawl out of isolation to aid us.
” He walked over to a cart and poured himself an amber ale.
“Ya know, I sent four messages to them—no response! Luck knows they won’t be at Fecunditas, so we’ve lost that opportunity to convince them to ally.
They could all be dead for all we know,” Faelad snarked, clunking the bottle down.
Wyatt and I exchanged a quick with a loaded thought.
“Well, not all dead,” I retorted.
Faelad’s face lifted. “What?”
“The Shield of Vinterland was here—in Luckland—looking for something,” I said, flatly.
The skin under Faelad’s eye twitched for a fraction of a second.
Love strike me, here we go . . .
“What?” he repeated pointedly, eyes going frantic. “When? How?”
Even with Faelad’s deep ring of spies, Alvar seemed to slip past them all.
“He was veiled by a foreign magic. But it doesn’t matter,” I clipped, instinctively keeping Carwynn out of it. “It was brief. He left when he realized whatever he was looking for wasn’t in Luckland. But his presence is evidence Vinterland is very much alive and active.”
Faelad’s raging stare cut me down. To him, this offense was personal.
“I’ve built a network—so deep—that it’s carved into the very bones of this land!
And yet, here he slipped past them like smoke through my fingers!
” He slammed the glass onto the table, and shards clinked over the surface like dice.
“If he can slither his way in, so can others! I made a vow to protect my people!” Faelad’s voice cracked, chest heaving in anger.
“Tell me—how? How do ya know this?” Faelad ordered, stepping forward.
Decades of friendship taught me all of his bluffs. He was a fighter by nature, but not with his own—not with me. I understood how upsetting this news was to him, but in twenty minutes time, he’d steady his head. Carwynn needn’t be involved.
“Carwynn,” Wyatt interjected, grounding and firm—saying her name like a peace offering. He gave me a stern, annoyingly adorable look. A reminder to reign it in.
Bleeding hearts. My eyes shot at him like an arrow through the chest.
“She unexpectedly bumped into him. He helped her evade Lochlainn’s men at the time.
Only told her he was searching for something—wouldn’t say what.
” Wyatt let silence settle for a beat before adding, “Alvar wasn’t here to harm anyone.
Just passing through, using some cloaking magic.
Not sure how he made it through the grove unnoticed. ”
Wyatt didn’t say it, but we both knew—if she was involved, we couldn’t keep her out of this anymore. He’d warned me about this—of the inevitable. It was my nature and my job to do what I could to delay it.
Faelad’s face went contemplative. A hand dragged over his copper beard as he released an exhausted breath.
“Vinterland coming out of hiding means something. If their Shield is active . . .” His voice trailed off, face sullen.
“What has Vinterland been doing this whole time without their King? Why enter the lands now?” Then he turned back to me.
“Ask your Cherubs if they’ll deliver one last letter.
Maybe if I call out his trespassing, they’ll respond.
We need to know what they know, and what their next move is. ”
In the distance, deep melodic pipes echoed, the sound vibrating through the air like a distant warning.
“Let the Fortuna Ball begin,” Faelad mumbled, words weighted, burdened by truths unspoken. “The snakes are already on the move. Chances are the road ahead could be longer than any of us foresee. Enjoy the festivities while you can.”