Chapter 72
Seventy-Two
Moissanite
Gentle arms envelop me, already softening my sharp edges.
“What are you doing here?” I whisper in disbelief, pulling back to meet her gaze.
My mother smiles, the sight filled with sadness.
“You didn’t think I would come for my daughters?
” Her voice breaks and she turns toward a toppled shelf to the right of us.
She bends down, jars clinking as she shuffles them aside, stopping to inspect one every so often.
“Sending a messenger back to you wasn’t enough, Leda.
If you’re here and Lunaria is in Crea, I couldn’t sit in the palace knowing you needed me. Not just our kingdom, but you.”
Tears spring into my eyes and she stands, her gaze settled on a chipped mug.
She looks up at me, her knuckles turning white as she grips the cup.
“There isn’t time to waste,” she breathes.
My mouth opens to ask her what she means, but the sound of sticks breaking and leaves crunching from somewhere near the entry cut me off.
I twist toward the front door hanging off its hinges, Brielle’s eyes wide as fire roars to life in her palms.
The hair on the back of my neck stands on end, and I call on my light.
“He’s with us, Brielle,” my mother says quickly. “Stand down.”
Brielle’s head snaps to her, then back to whatever waits just out of my view. Hesitantly, she lets her fire extinguish. My mother looks to me, nodding to the light still winding around my fingers.
I swallow and let mine go out, too.
“Come in,” my mother says to the mysterious person beyond Brielle.
Brielle’s biceps tense as she crosses her arms, shifting from foot to foot. I’ve never seen Brielle so restless, and that makes me far more wary the closer this thing gets.
Leaves crunch.
Sticks pop.
Then I see it.
My eyes widen at the same time Brielle shuffles into the cottage, settling herself closer to my mother—a warrior protecting her queen. I do the same, taking a step toward my mother and letting my light creep out of my palms.
Standing in the doorway is a dreadwolf.
A white-furred beast that’s three times the size of an average wolf. A creature that’s supposed to be extinct, along with the Talven fae. Yet here one stands, half-covered in blood and mud.
It’s human-like gaze locks on mine, and it’s then that I notice the dagger clenched in its mouth. Clamped between the dreadwolf’s razor-sharp teeth is a blade covered in blood. Human blood. I can smell its slightly sweet scent and see the lighter shade of red human blood possesses.
But the blade…
My heart skips a beat.
“Nightfall,” I breathe. “How—”
“The dreadwolf belongs with Lunaria,” my mother explains quietly. My gaze snaps to her. “She did it. She found the blade, and this brilliant familiar brought it to us. How he made it all the way to the palace to find me, I still can’t figure out.”
Surprise ripples through every fiber of my being.
“How do you know that?” I ask, my eyes bouncing between her and the giant white beast.
She smiles sadly. “He told me.”
My mother has always had a knack for connecting with creatures of the land—she always explained it like she was an extension of Penyth once she gained the crown—but communicating in this way is far deeper than I’ve seen her do in the past.
“His name is Soren,” she continues. “And he brought me a message.”
Soren whines, lowering his head.
My magic evaporates, and Brielle relaxes. This creature isn’t a danger to us or my mother. He’s on our side. Despite that, my heart still beats wildly in my chest. Why does my sister always find herself involved with terrifying beasts?
“Lunaria and Graylen need our help.” My mother’s voice waivers, but she holds her chin up. “And we’re going to help them.”