26. Trust in Me
Chapter twenty-six
Trust in Me
We make it back to the stronghold, exhaustion and devastation weighing heavily on our minds.
No one speaks much, not even Ash, who usually finds a way to crack a joke or lighten the mood. Instead, we each drift off in silence, seeking the rooms we’ll be staying in this time.
Sleep comes fast and deep.
I must have slept through the rest of the day and into the next morning.
By the time I finally stir, the sun is already high, golden light filtering weakly through the curtains.
My body protests as I force myself out of bed, muscles stiff from the relentless storm and battle.
I dress without much thought, willing myself to move.
It is time for the monthly rebellion meeting.
By the time I reach the meeting room, Oberon, Zander, and Ash are already there, their exhaustion still etched into their faces. The dark circles under their eyes linger, a faint but undeniable reminder of everything we have endured. I sink into my seat just as Oberon calls the meeting to order.
He begins with the grim truth of what happened in the Southern Territories, how we failed to solidify an alliance, and how the storm ravaged the land, leaving destruction in its wake.
His voice is steady but heavy, his expression unreadable as he recounts the devastation.
The leaders listen in tense silence as he announces that we will be sending troops to the Southern Territories to help them rebuild.
We have only seen the destruction in one village. I can’t begin to imagine what happened to the others.
Were they able to protect each other as we tried to? Or did the storm swallow them whole?
I know the kind of power Oberon and Ash wield is rare, even more so now that the King has spent the last century hunting down Fae like them, seizing their magic, twisting it for his own gain.
Oberon shifts the conversation, his tone sharpening as he stresses the urgency of securing an alliance with the mountain clans.
Since our negotiations with the Southern Territories failed, they are now our last hope for solidifying the rebellion within the Dark Realm.
One by one, the leaders update him on everything he missed while we were away.
He listens intently, concentration tightening his features as he sorts through every piece of new information.
When the meeting finally concludes, the leaders waste no time.
Reluctantly but without hesitation, they set to work organizing relief groups to send south.
We all know the cost: sending aid will weaken our own defenses here.
But it is the right thing to do. Alliance or not, we can’t turn our backs on them.
Later that day, while most of the rebellion heads south, we prepare to leave for the mountains. I meet up with the others a short while later, exhaustion still clinging to my limbs like a second skin.
Oberon is the first to break the silence. “Let’s hope this trip goes better.”
Ash, finally showing a glimmer of his usual playfulness, smirks. “Thank the gods we don’t have hurricanes in the North.”
Zander lifts an eyebrow at him but says nothing. I am still too tired to respond.
With a flick of Ash’s hand, the vortex opens, swirling the world into the familiar green-and-black shimmer I have grown accustomed to. One by one, we step through.
The shift in the air is instant. Gone is the golden warmth of the southern beaches, replaced by the harsh, biting chill of the mountains. This is the world I am used to: cold, unforgiving, and bleak.
Towering peaks loom above the small town we arrive in, their jagged, snow-covered forms casting long shadows over the land. Snowflakes drift lazily from the sky, slow and unhurried, so unlike the whirlwind pace of my life. The wind nips at my cheeks as I take in my surroundings.
The town itself was built from gray, unremarkable stone, dark and gloomy in a way that reminds me of Umberfall.
But unlike that forsaken place, the buildings here are sturdier, built to withstand time and war alike.
The skeletal trees scattered around the village stand twisted and bare, offering no comfort, no beauty, just the same eerie stillness that seems to settle over every place the war hasn’t completely torn apart.
The people here were not spared entirely, but they fared better than most.
This is only the first of many villages we will pass through in our attempt to secure the alliance.
I know my training with both Zander and Ash will continue here, but I push the thought away.
My body still aches from the storm, and I can only hope I’ll have a few days to recover before I am thrown back into that relentless schedule of physical and mental lessons that always pushes me to my limits.
Oberon leads us through the town, his strides purposeful, until we reach the house where we will be staying. Thankfully, as with every place we have traveled to, clothes are waiting for me, thicker garments suited for the brutal cold of the mountains.
We move from one town to the next, met with nothing but cold winds and even colder stares.
The villagers here are sour, unwelcoming, their wariness thick in the air.
The brutal mountain weather mirrors the icy reception we receive, making every step toward the main village feel like a battle in itself.
The leader there will have the final say on an alliance, but so far, every attempt to build relationships with the smaller towns has ended in failure. Hope is slipping through our fingers.
I still train with both Zander and Ash, though Oberon steps in occasionally.
Things between us are . . . strange. Uncertain.
He has let me in, just enough to make me feel the closeness before pulling away again.
Every time we share a space, I feel the weight of something unspoken, something tense and fragile, teetering between us, a longing for something more solid than what he seems willing to offer.
Is he afraid of something real? Or did he simply decide it isn’t me he wants it with?
He lingers in my thoughts more than I want to admit, but I have no idea if I haunt his in the same way.
Instead, he keeps up that dark humor I have grown used to teasing and taunting, always dancing just at the edge of closeness before retreating.
Maybe it is a shield. Maybe he wants to keep me at arm’s length.
As we near the largest city yet, Dusk Haven, the streets grow denser with travelers, merchants, and wary-eyed strangers.
Among them, a figure draped in a heavy cloak moves in the opposite direction, hood pulled low enough to obscure their face entirely.
Something about them feels . . . off. Their steps are too measured, their presence almost unnatural in the way they wove through the crowd without truly seeming to belong.
I barely have time to process it before we pass them, the moment fleeting until, a few strides later, Zander abruptly slows. “Damn it, I think I dropped my coin pouch,” he mutters, already turning on his heel before anyone can question him.
I exchange a glance with Ash, but neither of us has the chance to speak before Zander disappears into the throng of people.
Minutes pass. Too many.
When Zander finally returns, he is composed, but something is different.
He doesn't meet my eyes, and there is a tension in his jaw, a calculation behind his gaze that wasn’t there before.
He strides directly to Oberon, lowering his voice but not enough that I can’t catch the edge in it. “We need to talk.”
Oberon stills, then gives a slow, measured nod. Without another word, they step away, disappearing into a shadowed alley.
I frown, a prickle of unease curling down my spine. Instinct urges me to glance back, searching the crowd for the cloaked figure, but they are gone.
When they return, Oberon’s expression is indifferent, but his words are sharp and final. “I need to leave.”
Ash scoffs. “What could possibly be more important than this mission?”
Oberon’s gaze is steady, his voice devoid of emotion. “The King is planning something. I need to make sure he doesn’t strike too close to home.”
I frown. “How long will you be gone?”
“As long as I need to be,” he replies, offering no further explanation.
Ash leans back, crossing his arms. “And what exactly are we supposed to do while you go put on your crown and play villain?”
Oberon doesn’t rise to the bait. His voice is pure command. “You continue on. I chose you for a reason. I know you’re capable of carrying out this mission with or without me.”
Ash smirks, but there is an edge to it. “So you do trust me not to get into trouble.”
Oberon only gives him a look before turning to me, his dark eyes softening just a little. “Trust in me, Lyra, no matter what you hear.” His voice is quiet, intimate, meant for me alone. A reminder. A promise. Or maybe a warning.
Before I can search his expression for more, he turns to the others, the sharp authority returning to his tone. “Keep her safe.”
Then, without hesitation, he steps closer, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of my head. The warmth of it sends a shiver down my spine, before I can react, before I can even part my lips to say something, his shadows coil around him like a living thing and swallow him whole.
He is gone.
Silence settles around us, thick and heavy.
Ash lets out a dramatic sigh, breaking it first. “Well, that was unnecessarily dramatic.” He glances at me, his smirk half-hearted. “I will wager five coins that while he is off playing evil prince, we will be the ones cleaning up the mess.”
I ignore him, my gaze still fixed on the empty space where Oberon stood just seconds before. The warmth of his presence is already fading, replaced by the cold bite of the mountain air.
Zander shifts beside me. “We should get moving.” His voice is all business, but his sharp gaze flicks to me, assessing.
I nod, forcing my thoughts back to the task ahead. Whatever Oberon has gone to do, whatever danger he is stepping into, I can’t let it distract me. We still have a mission to complete. I square my shoulders and start walking. “Let’s go.”
Ash and Zander fall into step beside me, their silent presence steadying, even as a part of me remains tangled in the last words Oberon spoke, Trust in me.