Chapter 40
HIGHNESS?
Soren accepted the title without blinking.
So did the rest of the surrounding fae, even King Mordeus and Prince Caius.
No. Way.
Soren was royalty?
I caught my jaw hanging open and snapped it shut.
“I consider my role in the treaty between our courts to be fulfilled and revoke my status as a diplomatic hostage,” Soren told King Mordeus in a firm tone. “Feel free to request another if you so choose, but release me from the contract.”
Honestly, the king looked as shocked as I felt, though probably for very different reasons.
Diplomatic hostage? Was that what he’d meant when he said his father had sent him here?
That he’d be disowned if he didn’t stay?
This strange role had ripped away more from him than his wings—he’d let them humiliate him and had given up nearly all his rights, not to mention the lack of respect from the court here.
Until now . . .
“I must protest.” King Mordeus frowned, not making any move to get up from his throne. “The treaty states that as long as you live here, the Shadow Court will not attack the Hollow Court. If I were to let you leave, we would no longer have this protection.”
“I cannot tell if you’re being deliberately obtuse or if you truly never read the contract closely enough to notice,” Soren said to the king as he stalked toward him.
The royals tried not to react, but their too-still forms gave away their uncertainty as Soren’s presence seemed to fill the whole stage. Guards stepped between them, but Soren ignored them.
“The exact wording in the contract is that as long as I choose to live here, you receive guaranteed protection from the Shadow Court. However, as I’ve been here many years now, I believe I’ve served my time.
” Soren stopped a few feet from them and raised his voice so the amplification would carry it even farther.
“I no longer choose to live here.” His voice deepened with a clear threat as he added, “If you attempt to keep me here against my will, I can almost guarantee it will have a counterproductive effect.”
What a fancy way to say, “Back off or you’ll start a war.”
King Mordeus stuttered, “We—that’s not—I had not intended—”
He couldn’t finish any of his sentences, which made me wonder if he was trying to lie.
I could almost guarantee he’d known about the way the contract was worded though, otherwise, he would’ve demanded to check.
Mentally, I cheered, Go, Soren!
The king coughed and finally said, “I would not risk starting a war with the Shadow Court, of course.”
“It’s settled, then. If you’ll please, officially release me from the contract.” Soren’s words were mellow, but the sharp edge of his jaw and the glint of restrained fury in his eyes said otherwise.
A tense silence made my heart speed up.
The king grumbled, almost to himself, “I release you from your service to the Hollow Court.”
Dark feathered wings sprang loose from Soren’s back, as if returning from another dimension.
They expanded out into the air on both sides, wider than he was tall.
Bowing slightly under their sudden weight, Soren groaned.
He bent forward beneath them as they flexed toward his body, then slowly stretched out until they spread to their full wingspan.
I forgot to breathe.
The wings had ripped straight through his shirt and vest in the back, forcing him to pull the dangling fabric off.
Wide-eyed, I stared at his bare chest.
Clapping a hand over my gaping mouth, I tried to hide my reaction, but the movement drew Soren’s attention, and whatever he saw on my face earned me a silent laugh before he fluttered those massive wings and drew them back into an arched resting position behind him.
It was obvious why the Hollow Court had demanded he remove them, why the prince was jealous of him. Not that Soren wasn’t impressive on his own, but the wings added an intensity to his presence that made him impossible to disregard.
Facing the king, he ignored Caius altogether. “I’ll need writing tools and the use of one of your messengers before we depart.”
Not waiting for a response, he turned back to Alaric.
“You’ll have to send someone back for my things.
We’ll bring these four humans.” He pointed at me and my family casually, like we hadn’t just been told no.
Then he gestured to Lore, Julian, and Peregrin.
“As well as these three folk. We’ll send someone back for a fourth, who’s not present at the moment. ”
At the mention of Gwen, I bit my lip. I didn’t know her well, but I had a feeling she wouldn’t appreciate us ditching her.
I swallowed.
Did Soren have enough pull to convince them to bring us?
“Yes, Your Highness.” Alaric didn’t show even a hint of protest as he shrugged out of his leather vest that held some of his weapons and handed it to Soren, who pulled it on without a word.
Just like that?
His “absolutely not, and you can’t make me” had turned into “yes, sir” because of Soren?
My gaze flew back and forth between the two of them, as I struggled to process that it might actually be happening.
Soren was taking me—taking all of us—to Mom.
Honestly, I’d schedule my meltdown for later. I wasn’t about to turn this down.
“A pen and paper, as requested, Your Highness,” a voice croaked from two feet below us. An amphibious scribe whose head reached our knees held out the items. Soren took them.
He strode to the king’s dramatic table of roots and scribbled a quick note—I assumed to Gwen, currently stuck back at the burrow, about our quick exit and sending someone back for her.
Soren folded the pages and turned to the scribe, who offered him a seal. Setting the sticky red stuff over the fold, Soren pressed one of his rings into it before handing over the message along with directions on where to deliver it.
Lore and Julian had come out of the shadows to join us, more subdued than usual. Peregrin looked excited to fly again, though, grinning the same way he did when making breakfast each morning.
“You don’t have to come with me,” Soren told them softly. “It’s your decision.”
“We would’ve gone home a long time ago if not for you,” Lore said, speaking for all of them. She crossed her arms. “And you know it.”
When Soren turned to Julian and Peregrin, they both nodded agreement. Julian added in a firm tone, “As Brynn put it, we’re going, and you can’t stop us.” He gave me a wink.
I ignored his teasing, way too overwhelmed to process a joke right now. This was finally happening. I’d pinch myself, but there was no way I could’ve dreamed this up.
Soren spoke softly to Dad. He made sure that he, Rissa, and Olive were all comfortable with three other winged fae, including Alaric, who ended up with Olive.
Her blonde form was tiny in his huge muscled arms as he lifted her with one hand under her back and the other beneath her legs.
He flung his dark wings wide, and the fae behind him followed suit.
They held Rissa and Dad the same way, waiting on us.
A shiver of anticipation shook Soren’s wings as he stepped up to me. “The journey is a few hours on foot,” he murmured, ignoring everyone else. “But less than half of an hour by air. That said, if you’d prefer not to fly—”
“No,” I interrupted, unused to seeing uncertainty on his face. I stepped closer, studying the soft dark feathers on his wings in awe. “Flying works. I’m good.” Was I? I hadn’t really thought it through, but I didn’t want him to worry.
Reassured, he took my arms and wrapped them around his neck. “I’ll take you, then.”
Nodding, I swallowed and then whispered, “So, did I overhear someone calling you Your Highness?”
The tiniest smile touched the corner of his mouth. “Long story. I’ll fill you in when we get there.”
Apparently, I was a bobblehead now, because I just nodded some more.
His arms moved to my back as if we were hugging. But his lips lowered to my ear, and he whispered, “Hold on tight.”
He flung his wings wide, scooping me up to wrap my legs around his body. It wasn’t until he crouched to take off that my heart started beating frantically.
Launching us up, Soren’s wings pounded the air, shooting us into the night sky.