60. A DECOY FOR A GODDESS
It could be any day now. Lyceius could descend upon the realm at any point and lay waste to it if we weren’t ready.
Our scouts had accurately estimated timeframes in previous wars based on our enemy’s movements.
But Lyceius had been gathering forces within Salterra for a while now, and with him summoning Auren through her dream, and making the statement of “putting an end to this before it begins”—as Auren claimed he had said—we all had a feeling that war was much closer than we would like it to be.
Which was why I was making the quick trip to Drastia, under the guise of “discussing battle tactics with Laurent,” to commission the creation of the decoy amulet Eathril had suggested.
No one knew about the idea, aside from Aremis.
I hadn’t mentioned it to anyone else, because if it came down to me having to use it, I wanted everyone’s reactions to be of genuine shock and protest. It would be more believable that way, and there was a greater chance that Skadi would take the bait and not question it.
Laurent was the only other exception. I’d have to spring it upon him while I was there, but I didn’t anticipate it to be any sort of inconvenience.
He was always one to accommodate new endeavors, especially secret ones.
That, and he’d probably sense I was there for another reason the moment I arrived.
His acute intuition was rivaled only by Aremis, and he had a way with sniffing out the things that were left unspoken.
In fact, I was pretty sure he knew he’d met the one the prophecy spoke of the moment he met Auren.
Auren had stayed behind in Calledan, offering to help Maeson go into the city and stock up on ingredients for the healers in anticipation for what was to come, which had given me my chance to slip away to the arctic for a few hours.
The same six wolves that always stood watch over Drastia’s gate escorted me across the frozen ice until my feet were on solid ground. I ruffled the fur on each of their heads with my fist before tearing through space to the glacial castle.
No sooner had I materialized than the grand, icy doors before me swung open, revealing Senna and an entourage of chatty females behind her. She froze mid-step when she spotted me, completely caught off guard.
“Oh! Niall! What a pleasant surprise! Laurent didn’t mention you would be here today.”
“A last minute meeting.” I inclined my head toward her. “Nothing of too much importance.”
“Did Auren come with you? I’m heading out with my ladies to a festival in town. She is more than welcome to join while you have your meeting.”
“She did not, but I will let her know she was missed.”
“Please do. She is always welcome here, as are you. Feel free to show yourself inside.” With that, she dipped her chin and led the group to a carriage that was waiting for them.
Once inside, I found Laurent striding down the hallway toward me. At his side, laughing in conversation, was another male who struck me as familiar. As he drew closer, I recognized him.
I blinked, confused.
Breck?
“Just in time,” Laurent called out. “Did you catch Senna on the way out?”
“I did . . .” I glanced at Breck, who, oddly, seemed like he was here willingly and not on business—judging by his casual dress and relaxed expression. “She inquired about Auren,” I added, clearing my throat.
“As she always does.” Laurent grinned. “Which, by the way, is quite the compliment. She’s terribly picky with the company she keeps.”
“I’m sure Auren will be thrilled to know,” I said, still staring at Breck and wondering what the hell he was doing here.
I felt Laurent’s eyes on me, assessing, the way he always did when he was searching for the unknown, undisclosed bits that lingered in the dark. “There’s a reason you didn’t bring her.”
I gave him a nod. “Best spoken of in private.”
“Ah, yes.” He put a hand on Breck’s shoulder. “Breck has been here since your mating ceremony. I’d say we’ve developed a liking for each other’s company.”
I lifted a brow. “Enjoying a break from the warmer climate?”
Breck shrugged, but it wasn’t a careless movement in the slightest. “Considering I’ve branded myself an enemy of Elandrew, this climate is better than death.”
Laurent huffed a laugh. “Oh don’t be dramatic. Killian wouldn’t—”
“Oh, he would,” I said in Breck’s defense. “But why here, of all the territories? No offense, Laurent.”
“None taken.” He turned to Breck, brows pinching in question. “Yes, why here? We never quite got around to discussing that piece of it.”
“Because Vahrenhall is too close for comfort, and Calledan . . .” He clenched his jaw. “I didn’t want to be a burden. Not with you and Auren having just been mated.”
I studied him, the pain that was lingering in his eyes. He wasn’t sure if he made the right call by standing up against his cousin—it had cost him his place in his court. Any male would feel the sting of that against their pride, especially if they had to flee to another’s territory to seek refuge.
And there was clearly still some sort of wound there when it came to Auren.
“Well, as we discussed,” Laurent said, “you’re welcome to stay as long as you need or want. But if it’s going to be longer than another couple of weeks, I’m going to have to see about getting you fitted for your own wardrobe because Senna will have a fit knowing I’ve loaned out all my good coats.”
Breck pretended to laugh, but I caught the wariness in it.
Was he that worried about what I thought of him?
Maybe I should say something to ease his mind. After all, he had stood up to Killian for Auren. For all of us.
“You’re welcome in my court as well, Breck. You’re not a burden.”
Something in his expression lightened, but not wholly. He dipped his head in a stern nod and tucked his hands behind his back as his focus shifted to the ground. He obviously didn’t want to travel any further down this road right now.
Laurent gave him a pat on the shoulder. “We’ll continue our conversation later. Please make yourself at home while Niall and I have a chat.”
“Certainly.” Breck turned on his heels and strode back down the hall.
“Is he all right?” I asked, trying not to sound too concerned.
Laurent ran a hand through his thick hair. “For the most part. Just a little lost at the moment, I think.”
I nodded. That was understandable.
“So, about this ‘secret business’ you mentioned . . .” He extended an arm, and I gave him a wary look as I took hold of it, earning a light laugh from him as we ported.
The chamber we arrived in was set further within the glacier, where the icy walls were so deep blue, it looked as if we were beneath the sea.
I’d been to this room once before, when we were last on the brink of war and my father had sent me as his messenger to relay information to Laurent’s father.
Nothing about it had changed except the placement of the furniture and the overabundance of candles that made it feel more like a prayer chamber than a war room.
The aesthetic was surely due to Senna’s delicate touch on the place.
Laurent leaned back against the crude, ice-sculpted table, ready to listen. I told him about what had happened with Auren, how Lyceius had summoned her through a dream. How Drastia’s army, like Vahrenhall’s and Benmoor’s, needed to be prepared to move at a moment’s notice.
“But that’s not the main reason why I wanted to come here today,” I said.
He grinned, lifting a knowing brow. “Are we about to do something no one else is aware of?”
“Something like that.” I took a small piece of parchment from my pocket and handed it to him.
He unfolded it and stared down at the image Aremis had sketched for me. “A gift for your mate?”
“A decoy for a goddess.”
Fully intrigued, he lifted his eyes to me. “I’m listening.”
I’d sent missives after Skadi’s manifestation at my northern gate, so Laurent, as well as the other High Lords, knew of the threat she posed, both alone and at Lyceius’s side.
But as I explained to him the significance of the amulet and what it contained, the urgency and depth of the matter seemed to solidify in his mind.
“This is where your power comes from?” he asked, studying the depiction of the amulet.
“Somehow, yes.” There was a long pause. “Can it be done?”
“Forging a jewel in such a convincing way that it will deceive a goddess?” He chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment. “Easy.”
The place Laurent had brought me to was part of the Ancient Fae tunnels, bored deep within the glacier beyond the castle.
It was the site of one of their most prominent forges, used to create all sorts of Drastia’s enchanted objects—objects that could produce heat without melting the surrounding snow and ice.
The walls of ice were so thick, their natural blue coloring looked black, and the splintered hairline cracks within appeared as silvery striations. It was enchanting, and one could easily get lost down here and never find their way back.
Luckily, Laurent knew the tunnels like the back of his hand, as most of his childhood was spent running the span of the long, cold corridors, and learning from Drastia’s Elder how to properly wield ice from water—the most difficult of all the elemental compounds to control, given that it tends to manifest in erratic forms.
We found that same Elder huddled over a table in a small room, spooning some sort of substance into a glass beaker.
His spectacles were about two sizes too large for his face, but beneath them, his eyes were bright and lively.
He wore a thick, gray, fur-trimmed coat that matched the color of his neatly-styled hair.
Taller than both Elspeth and Amarna, he was an enigma when it came to the Ancient Fae.
One would think he was more closely related to the modern fae, if it weren’t for his wings.