Chapter 15
Casyl
He had hoped to keep the girl’s powers a secret, but now the king knew. He’d see her not only as a map but also as a weapon.
He gave the order for her skill to be tested and trained to see if it could be controlled.
The ability to nullify an enemy’s most powerful attack would provide a decisive advantage.
Voiders existed only in myths. They were perhaps one of the few things those with abilities truly feared.
Losing his power would be like losing a part of himself.
Perhaps her human nature had something to do with it.
If she were going to be taught how to control her ability, it would be prudent to train her how to use her body too. She’d never match a fae in strength, but she could make herself less vulnerable.
He was thinking of her as if she were part of his army instead of a prisoner. She was, whether she liked it or not.
Their contact was limited. Sometimes, he watched from afar as the training took place.
She had improved. She was a fast learner and could now defend herself from Ruven’s advancing attacks.
He followed her movements, his attention catching on the line of her jaw as it tensed with concentration. Heat bloomed beneath his armour.
Since her arrival, he’d been sent on missions to cross the border and search for where she’d entered the world. Between Eleandor’s account of where she’d been found and the king’s description of her memories, Casyl had some idea where to look, but the journey was long and dangerous.
He went alone to avoid suspicion. A solitary rider crossing the border would attract less attention than a small warband. He skirted the forest where he could, but he couldn’t avoid it completely.
She’d emerged somewhere near the base of the sacred mountain, hidden by the forest. It was not somewhere he’d ventured. No one had. The creatures kept everyone away.
Even with powers, the forest was an intimidating place. Not only were there huge Feltooths, but there were also strange humanoids such as the Leshies, whose sinewy limbs ended in razor-sharp claws and whose elongated heads bore antlers.
They were only found near the mountain, and that was enough to keep the fae away.
Entering the forest, he crept through the maze of trees until the bottom of the mountain became visible.
He’d never been this far in. The hum of power vibrating from the mountain pricked at his skin as he followed it, searching for the small caves and crevices that could have been her entrance, but he found none.
Stalking back through the forest, he could not shake the feeling of being watched. His skin tingled at the shriek in the distance that echoed off the mountain.
It was time to go. He was relieved when he finally saw the opening in the trees.
Travelling back through the wild grasslands, he skirted the border until the terrain forced him onto the dirt path leading to the High City, weaving into the forest to avoid people when necessary.
With their refusal to return the human prisoner, war was guaranteed.
He needed to gather intel on their army.
Under the guise of a peddler, he followed the roads into enemy territory as they snaked through mountains until they brought him to the crest of a hill looking down upon the city.
With his cloak wrapped tightly around him and his hat pulled low, he concealed the protruding antlers that would instantly betray his disguise.
The fae of the High City hadn’t been cursed.
Where Casyl’s kingdom was harsh and lifeless, the High City flourished, surrounded by greenery, secured by the safety of the surrounding mountains. Another reason to resent them. No matter what he did, he’d still be the son of the god-cursed king.
The city had been built inside an ancient crater, its walls carved directly from the mountain.
The holy priests said it was blessed as the bowl of the gods. They had spent centuries carving the rock and building upon it.
He descended the hill towards the city with his wares of carved wooden spoons packed on his mount. If ever searched, they’d raise no suspicion. It was a guise he’d taken on many times over the years. His contacts in the city could provide him with shelter.
He needed to find out what they were planning.
He dismounted and led his horse through the streets. It was afternoon, and the streets were busy with markets and people going about their lives. Women walked around freely here. It was such a stark contrast to life at the fort.
As he passed the fountains and gardens, the royal towers rose in the middle of the city, almost reaching the clouds.
Two guards walked out of a shop in front of him. He kept his head down and passed them.
His contact ran a spice shop near the Royal Quarter. Casyl perused the jars of aromatic spices until the shop cleared of customers. His contact quickly ushered him to the back of the building and up the stairs to a room where a tiny window gave a view out onto the entrance of the Royal Towers.
“Gandor,” Casyl greeted him.
It grew dark as he stayed watching until the early hours. Gandor brought him food and wine.
Workers wheeled covered wagons in and out of the Royal Quarter. What lay beneath those covers? Had something moved underneath one, or had he imagined it?
He’d have to send a spy into the towers to uncover that information.
Early that morning, he left the city and headed home. It was risky to stay in the city longer than was needed. He shuddered at the thought of being caught. Even he could not fight a whole city.
The roads led him near the border. Once he was out of sight, he urged his horse into a gallop across the wild country.
It would take him almost a full day to reach the fortress. He made no stops other than to rest his horse.
Now that he’d seen their army preparing, he would have to ready his own. It had been a long time since any of them had seen war.
It was the dead of night as he approached the last few miles of his journey. He had a strange feeling that something was wrong. It had been niggling in his mind. He urged his horse faster as he raced the last few miles.
The guards recognised him and opened the gates. Casyl dismounted, handed his horse to a servant and rushed into the fortress. The feeling intensified as he rushed to the human’s room. Where were the guards? Something was very wrong.
He burst into the room and saw a guard standing before the girl, a knife raised towards her.
The sight of the weapon sparked something primal. His body shook as he threw himself at the guard and snapped his neck without hesitation.
It was only when he’d calmed down that he realised he should have kept the guard alive and interrogated him. No matter. Someone else in the fortress knew, and Casyl would spill blood to find them.
He shook his head.
He spent most of his time trying to keep her alive, and to what end? His father had nothing good planned for her.
He helped her up. She appeared unharmed but stumbled a little. The smell of liquor hung in the air.
She’d been drinking.
He steadied her. Their eyes met. One of hers reminded him of the deep shades of the forest; the other caught the light like fire, flecked with gold.
She leaned into him. Her warmth pressed against him, her breath brushing his skin.
He paused a moment too long.
He pulled away and left before he did something he’d regret.
*
In the morning, Casyl ordered the human moved to the secure room at the bottom of his turret.
It would be safer there for her whilst he investigated how someone had managed to breach the fortress.
There was a window, but it was much too small for even her to climb through. She’d be more comfortable there too.
He frowned at the thought. Since when did he care about her comfort?
The king was disappointed that Casyl had failed to discover her entrance, but he was more infuriated by the High City’s preparations for war and the attempt on the human’s life.
He was ordered to ready their troops and prepare them for war. Before he could do that, he needed to find out how the assassin had infiltrated the fortress and who else was involved. He trusted no one else to do it.
Tharos could start the war preparations without him until he was able to join them. He would know what to do.
He went down into the dungeons of the fortress. They were rarely used but would now serve as a place for him to interrogate. He would find out what had happened, even if he had to resort to torture. The king would expect no less.
He had guards searching the servants’ chambers for any evidence of treason. The newest members of staff were the most suspicious. The warriors of the fortress had undergone intense training and had been there for decades. If anyone was going to be a traitor, it was more likely to be a servant.
“My lord,” the guard said, escorting a man into the dungeon. “We found him trying to climb out of a window.”
No one would try to leave the fortress without permission. The land was dangerous, and there was nowhere to go.
“Do you want to confess what you know before or after?” he said, tapping a finger to his temple.
The man turned, as if to cower, but grabbed the guard’s dagger from his belt. Casyl moved to disarm him, but the man drew the dagger across his own throat.
Blood spurted from the wound, spraying over Casyl as he fell to his knees, choking on his own blood.
Casyl and the guard watched as the man fell to the floor. To choose death over interrogation meant he knew something very important. Who was he protecting?
“Gather groups of servants for interrogation,” he told the guard.
The guard bent to pick up the body.
“Leave him,” Casyl said. “They’ll talk quicker if they see this.”
*
The interrogations dragged on into the night. None of the other servants had admitted to knowing anything. For now, the man who had killed himself appeared to have been the assassin’s only accomplice. The High City had to be behind this.
He cleaned the blood off himself and went to the Viewpoint to relax. It would be his only moment of peace before war broke out. He sat in the corner with a goblet of wine, admiring the moon from the shadows. Tomorrow he’d leave to join the rest of the army.
There hadn’t been a war of this size for centuries. There had been disagreements between the two lands, threats, and skirmishes, but there’d been no reason for full-blown war. He wasn’t sure there was sufficient reason now, but the king was certain, and that was all that mattered.
The door opened, and the human walked in. She stood in the moonlight, looking up at the sky. Casyl watched as she reached out as though to pluck a star from the darkness.
His shoulders loosened as the wine took effect. He wanted to sit there quietly and admire her. For the first time since her arrival, she looked less like a prisoner and more like a person.
They were alone in the room.
She’d been in here before. He was glad that Ruven was keeping her company.
He knew he shouldn’t remain alone with her, especially after the wine he’d consumed, yet he stayed long enough to share a drink. When he finally forced himself to leave, he paused at the doorway.
“Try not to die whilst I’m gone, Amelia.”
That was the first time he’d used her name. It sounded strange to call her by anything other than ‘the human’, as if calling her by her name was bad luck.
He sought his bed, but her moonlit face returned to his thoughts more than once.
The following morning, Tiryn sent him to war. As Casyl rode from the fortress, he found himself looking back for Amelia and resenting that she had become yet another thing his father could use against him.