Chapter 25
Wren
“There was a human government formed by our ancestors that came multiple generations before mine,” Ryoden begins.
“There were elections for all areas of the government and one president at the very top. They signed the treaty with the factions—your kings’ predecessors—early on as our formal government began.
That treaty divided land and gave humans their own areas to live on and govern, but it also included… concessions.”
“Concessions,” I repeat softly, not liking the dip in his tone on that word specifically, as if it disgusts him.
He nods once and my brow creases, suddenly uneasy about what’s about to come out of his mouth.
“Mandatory blood donors sent to the vampires. Human children tithed to fae courts and never seen again. Reports of shadows showing up in people’s homes and assaulting them in the middle of night with no recourse for justice.
Shifters that would come into cities and steal women on the night of full moons. ”
My mouth parts and widens the further he goes on, both shocked and appalled by this information. Disbelief clouds my mind, not seeing how any of that is even possible after the time I’ve spent with each faction.
His hands tighten on the wheel once more. “The treaty kept the peace while it lasted, but at a heavy cost, and a lot of people decided they were done paying it.”
For a moment I just sit there with the quiet hum of the jeep’s engine filling the space. It all feels so…unbelievable.
“The humans were handing over children to the fae,” I say, because that’s the part from the human side of this scenario that my mind trips over and can’t quite move past. “Willingly.”
“Yes,” he says, voice tight and teeming with anguish. “Some families volunteered for monetary compensation, some were…encouraged. Some didn’t have a choice. The old government justified it as the price of preventing open war. The rebellion saw it as selling our own kind to placate monsters.”
I feel how much he believes what he’s saying and what he’s fighting for in this war. It’s the same deep pain that the kings carry around in their hearts and voice when they speak of injustice to their people.
How is it possible for both to be true at once? They’re complete juxtapositions—which means someone has to be lying.
My fingers rise to rub against my temples as my eyes flutter shut. I have to process this and get to the bottom of it, but I don’t even know where to begin to untangle this from either side of the war.
Images flash unbidden behind my closed lids—fae hands curling around small human ones and vampire courts with humans chained and their goblets gathering blood from their open wounds.
I have never once heard Sylvin or Riven speak of humans as a resource to be taken for their own needs without consent and compensation, but I suppose that doesn’t mean the older generations didn’t participate in something far uglier before them.
“Eventually,” Ryoden continues, drawing my attention back to him as my hands fall to my lap.
“The rebel factions rose up against that government. Riots and assassinations. Full-scale attacks on those in power. They shattered the old chain of command and replaced it with their own. You wouldn’t call them rebels now, though; they are just our new government, one that truly protects our people and our rights. ”
I blink repeatedly, knowing I need to push on past that to catch up to the events of our lives now, but it’s hard to not dwell on everything he’s revealed.
“And what happened with your civilians and way of life with that change?” I ask carefully, not wanting him to realize how tough of a time I’m having believing this history.
“Mostly stayed the same,” he says casually, tilting his head lightly to the side.
“Same cities, same infrastructure. Just different hands on the reins, and now everything runs through the military. We have a General of the Army and an Admiral of the Navy. They’re the ones guiding us all through the war now.
You’ll probably meet both of them at this event. ”
I sit with that for a few breaths, watching a cluster of houses slip by. I have so many questions, but one floats to the surface of my mind first—arguably the most important for the clarity I need at present.
“So what is your goal as a whole now?” I finally ask. “In this war against the factions? What are you actually fighting for?”
Ryoden’s voice shifts subtly as he answers, taking on a cadence that sounds almost rehearsed, formal and familiar. At the same time, Eli speaks from the back seat, his tone matching.
It’s like listening to a shared script.
“To ensure humanity is never again treated as livestock, currency, or collateral,” they recite together, “but as sovereign equals in the eyes of every power on this earth.”
The words sound noble and on the right side of honor. There’s conviction in both of their voices that makes the hairs on my arms lift.
There’s no doubt in my heart that they believe this, but a gut feeling is telling me there’s more to this side of the story. I sit there, tangled in the space between that conviction and everything I don’t know.
I think of Riven’s grief-stricken fury, Sylvin’s cutting charm, Torryn’s steady protectiveness.
I think of how the kings talk about humans—with frustration, with wariness, with anger, yes, but never as cattle.
Never as things to own. I’ve also never heard the kings or anyone in their lands mention the atrocities that Ryoden just mentioned being a part of the treaty.
I press my lips together and swallow my confusion down. I’m not na?ve enough to think that if I speak up now that Ryoden and Eli will nod and accept that their leaders may not be telling them the truth. I don’t need the answers today, just at the end of our month.
So I keep my questions to myself and let the silence settle back in.
The longer we drive, the heavier my eyelids feel.
The rhythm of the road becomes a lullaby as the warmth from the sun's rays seep into my bones. Despite Torryn leaving last night to play it safe, I’d still only managed a few hours of sleep past his departure before Ryoden woke me up.
Soreness hums in my muscles, but even that begins to blur at the edges with my exhaustion.
At one point I turn my head, meaning only to take in the profile of the confusing man at my side—the tight curve of his mouth and the bruises on his throat that stand out at first glimpse.
But then my gaze stays glued to him as my eyes drift, tracing the faint stubble shadowing his jaw and the way his dark hair falls over his forehead in loose strands he seems too tired to push back.
What a conundrum you are, Ry.
I drag my heavy gaze from him finally and settle my head against the window.
A soft pulse glows in the back of my mind, a steady warmth at the edge of my awareness with my bond to Torryn.
It soothes my restless thoughts and my eyes flutter shut, a small smile tugging my lips up at the tranquility our connection brings me.
Between that and the hum of the jeep, my body finally gives in as sleep takes me.
I wake to a warm hand on my shoulder and my name whispered in a familiar voice.
“Wren.”
I blink as the world comes back in groggy pieces. The faint ache in my neck from sleeping at an angle rushes in first. After that, the warmth of Ryoden’s hand resting lightly on my shoulder sets in.
“We’re here,” he says softly before pulling his hand back.
I sit up fully, rubbing at my eyes, and then the sight outside the windshield shocks me fully awake.
The buildings in front of me are unlike anything I’ve ever seen.
They thrust up into the sky made of glass and metal.
Some are straight and severe in their structure, others are curved and sweeping, catching the setting sun in a thousand fractured reflections.
Where Charlotte’s structures were mostly rectangular stone and utilitarian in looks, built with defense and function in mind, these are clearly meant to be flashy and inspire awe in the onlookers.
It makes me uneasy. While there is an initial feeling of beauty in the craftsmanship of such towering structures and the way they reflect the beauty of the world in their glass panels, part of me wonders what it took from the earth to make them.
How heavy it feels weighing down against the ground and what would happen if it crumbled?
How many resources were used to construct such buildings?
We roll into a line of vehicles inching toward a grand entrance as I mull that over.
The cars are brightly colored and sleek, matching the opulence of the buildings: all different shapes and styles, but staunchly different from our jeep.
Just off to the side of the vehicles men in crisp black uniforms stand with women clinging lightly to their arms in dresses that shimmer under the lights.
Is that how women are expected to dress here to be on the arm of the members of the military men?
My gaze drops to myself. I’m wearing a knit sweater that’s a size too big, sleeves pushed up so they don’t swallow my hands, and worn jeans cinched with a belt to keep them from sliding. Comfortable and practical, but utterly wrong for this place.
Panic flares deep in my chest as I drag in a heavy breath.
“I’m going to stick out horribly,” I squeak out, dread pooling in my stomach. “I’m going to draw attention to us from everyone the moment I step out of this car.”
The fear must be obvious in my voice, because Ryoden’s head turns immediately. His eyes skim my face, and then, without seeming to think about it, his hand reaches across the center console and closes gently over mine. His palm is warm and a little rough, his grip firm but gentle all at once.
“Don’t worry,” he says, voice low and certain.
“I called ahead and spoke with an employee here. Told her we had a pipe burst in the house that destroyed your wardrobe right before the invitation for the ball came.” The faintest hint of wry humor trails over his mouth as a rare smile graces his face.
“I asked her to dock my pay and have a new wardrobe waiting for you in our room.”
I stare at him, the weight of that landing slowly.
He’s risking his position and his life, yet he also still had the thought to plan for me in all of this. I don’t know whether I’m more shocked by the depth of that thoughtfulness or by the fact that I like the warmth and support of his hand wrapped around mine.
His gaze flicks down, following the direction of my thoughts, and he seems to realize at the same moment I do that he’s still holding on. His green eyes widen imperceptibly and his fingers twitch.
Before he can pull back, the tension snaps from the back seat in the form of a bright, unabashed voice.
“It’s showtime, love birds,” Eli announces, popping his door open with a grin.
Ryoden drops my hand like it’s on fire and my heart trips over itself, caught somewhere between racing in panic and doing that unhelpful flip of an emotion I don’t even want to give thought to.
I draw in a breath and smooth my palms over my thighs, reminding myself of what’s at stake: the survival of those I hold dear and every other living soul on this planet.
This is another battlefield, just in an entirely different format than I’ve seen before.