Chapter 3
Niko
Aworn and discolored map is rolled out on the table before me, displaying our court and the surrounding kingdoms. A large black X indicates the castle, and a smaller red X shows our current location, about ten miles from our home.
We are on the line between the Ice Court and Earth Court, so the wind holds a chill I’m not accustomed to, settling deep in my bones.
A quick scan around my table shows everyone feels the temperature change, but they’re doing their best to keep their heads bowed and focused on the map below.
The only person who doesn’t seem affected by the chill in the air is Zephyr.
My mate.
His posture is rigid, holding more tension in his arms and shoulders than I’ve seen before.
His dark skin that used to glow from within as if he’s the sun is dulled and ashen from lack of food and sleep.
I once tracked his meals to make sure he’s getting enough, but with how scarce food is these days, I’ve stopped, no longer wanting to know how many days his body suffers without nutrients.
I fear even if I presented him with a four-course meal, he’d deny it and let it go to a family with young children, despite how much he needs it. He’s stubborn that way.
Of course, I can’t say I would do anything different.
Perfectly in tune with me, Zephyr raises his head, meeting my gaze. He holds so much behind his eyes. Exhaustion. Fear. Love. I wish I could take all the bad and assure him—as his king and mate—that everything is going to be okay. But the reality is I’m no longer certain of that.
Despite the melancholy mood, Zephyr offers me a smile, easing the fears warring inside me. His smile reassures me he’s here with me. That despite the war on our kingdom, I’m not fighting alone.
“We fear the Nephilim will try to break through our southern borders.” My general pulls my attention back to the map. He points to our southern shore, the closest to King Taivan, the pixie king, and his kingdom.
“Do you believe they’ll attempt to infiltrate the Pixie Kingdom through our shores?” my mother asks, her sharp gaze scanning the horizon, missing nothing. Even as a child, I couldn’t get away with anything, as my mother’s senses are sharp and knowing.
I pleaded with her to remain at the castle, but my mother listens to no one—not even her own son, the king.
Stubborn as she is, her presence here has its advantages.
She is a gifted healer, able to harness the power of nature to create potent remedies.
As a child, I lost count of how many times she had to mend my wounds, soothe my fevers, and patch me back together after one reckless misadventure or another.
I was always wild—too restless to sit still and too eager to chase the next thrill.
Even as king, I find myself in the midst of battle and adventure more often than not. Only this time, it’s not by choice.
My general warns of the heavy burden resting upon us. “Yes, Lady Thalia. I believe that’s exactly what the Nephilim plan on doing. We are simply collateral to them. Their true purpose is to obtain the magic from Pixie Cove and wreak havoc along the way.”
“We need to call upon all the kings. This has grown bigger than what we and the dragons can handle,” Zephyr says. My mate has been preaching about getting the others involved for some time. I don’t think he’s wrong, but I also don’t think we’ve exhausted all our options yet.
“That will only be a bandage on the real problem, my love,” I tell him gently, all eyes focusing on us.
We don’t disagree often, and rarely in public, but this hardly seems the time for secrecy.
“Each king has defended their kingdom with the help of their human wives. We just accepted The Guardian’s deal.
This could be the exact thing our kingdom needs. Let’s at least wait until she arrives.”
A hush settles over the room. Even my mother stares between Zephyr and me with something akin to sympathy on her face.
Zephyr clenches his jaw, closing himself off to me.
There’s nothing in our bond but thinly veiled annoyance.
I can usually feel his emotions because of the bond, but he’s been holding back on me.
It is not uncommon for the fae to take multiple partners, which is something Zephyr and I have spoken about a lot.
He’s never been opposed to me taking another mate, but he’s vehemently against getting involved with another.
I understand why, and though I’ll never voice it to him, I’m concerned he'll start to resent me. He’s been by my side since we were boys. Losing him would be a death sentence.
A flash of green streaks past my head, and a tiny figure lands gracefully on Zephyr’s shoulder.
The small sprite pats his ear affectionately, a familiar gesture between them.
My half-brother, Finnick, has always felt a kinship with Zephyr.
Perhaps it’s because, as one of the few sprites in the kingdom, he understands what it means to be different.
Zephyr, an ice fae surrounded by earth fae, knows that feeling all too well.
Finnick’s father was my mother’s old pixie friend, who has since passed away.
Both have spent their lives as outsiders in one way or another.
Even being mated to the king or brother of the king matters little when you are one of a few.
Finnick grins, his voice light with mischief. “Just think, Zeph—if Niko gets another mate, that means you’ll finally have someone to back you up when he’s wrong about something. Let’s face it, he’s wrong a lot.”
Despite the tension in the air, Zephyr smirks. “You’re right. How could I have forgotten about that?”
“Don’t make me flick you, Finnick,” I tease…
mostly. My brother would do well with a good flicking, as mischievous as he is.
Sprites, offspring of fae and pixies, are known to stir up trouble, but my brother makes it his personal mission to cause chaos and havoc around the castle.
It’s mostly in good spirits, except for that one time he was truly pissed at me and filled my bed with earthworms. I still shudder at the thought of it.
“Boys,” my mother chastises, a warm smile on her face. “Finnick, don’t terrorize your brother. And, Niko, we don’t threaten violence.”
“Since when is flicking violent?”
“Since your big, fat, chubby fingers could split me in two,” Finnick spits, shooting off Zephyr’s shoulder and flying over to our mother. As the younger brother, he’s entirely babied by her. In all fairness, I treat him much the same.
“Big, fat, and chubby all mean the same thing, my little love. Perhaps we need to resume your vocabulary lessons,” my mother says to Finnick. I try to hide my laugh behind a cough but fail because Finnick sticks his tongue out at me. Very mature.
“Even with the arrival of Niko’s new mate, we still need to be prepared for a battle,” Zephyr gets us back on track.
The teasing and lighthearted atmosphere quickly disappears as we glance back down at the map.
“Our closest allies will be the wolves. We should inform King Alpha Rip that we may need help in securing our borders. We are the last defense before the Nephilim breach Pixie Cove. If things are bad now, they will get a whole hell of a lot worse if they steal the magic.”
“Zephyr is right, sir,” my general, Mason, says. “Without the magic from Pixie Hollow, the Nephilim make a formidable opponent. I fear our chances of survival are—”
“We’re all gonna die!” Finnick shrieks dramatically, fainting on my mother’s shoulder. He stays down for a beat before picking his head up. “Is that what you were going to say?”
Mason shifts awkwardly, nodding. “Not as dramatic as that, but yes.”
“We at least have eyes in the sky now,” Zephyr continues. “And, no, I don’t mean you, Finnick. Though you’ve been extremely helpful.”
“Thank you. I usually am,” he agrees.
“The dragons have taken to patrolling the sky, watching the Nephilim’s movements. They have the best vantage points of Mescos,” Zephyr says. “Finnick can continue to send word to the dragons as we need.”
I nod and turn toward Mason, my voice steady despite the weight of my question. “The fae have survived numerous attacks from the Nephilim. Can our guard withstand more?”
The first sighting of the Nephilim near our kingdom was just a month ago. Shortly after, our lands began to wither—crops shriveled, soil turned barren, and the lifeblood of our territory drained away. Then came the attacks, swift and relentless, catching us unprepared both times.
From what we’ve gathered, the other kingdoms only suffered sporadic assaults, their encounters with the Nephilim scattered and infrequent.
But here? The moment they set foot on our lands, everything changed.
Now, we no longer live in a thriving kingdom.
We live in a war zone. The Nephilim grow ravenous for victory.
The end is drawing nearer, and I fear we are woefully unprepared.
The burden is growing heavier to shoulder each day.
My human wife is my last hope of saving my kingdom.
Before anyone around the table can say more, a loud crash erupts from outside the tent, followed by the sounds of men shouting and unsheathing weapons. The flaps of the tent entrance part as a soldier runs in, out of breath. “My kings. General Mason. Lady Thalia—”
“Enough. Say what you came here to say,” Zephyr barks before the fae can address everyone in the room.
The soldier stumbles forward, his entire body trembling, eyes wide. His breath comes in ragged gasps as he forces out the words. “Sir—there’s another attack. The Nephilim…they’re back.”
Fuck.
General Mason is the first to sprint out into danger, already shouting orders outside the tent.
Zephyr looks at me, and we lock eyes. Our bodies gravitate toward one another, and then my lips are on his.
I kiss him deeply. Kiss him like it could be our last. I hate how many of these kisses we share these days.
When I pull back, his pupils are blown wide. “Stay safe. Don’t fucking die.”
“Is that an order, Your Majesty?” Even amid war, my mate sasses me.
“You bet your ass it is.”
Zephyr’s teasing smirk fades, and he gives me one last curt nod before running out of the tent to join the fight.
I can’t dwell on his safety because, if I do, I’d never be able to let him leave my sight.
Zephyr is a trained warrior, one of the best I know.
He can handle himself, but that doesn’t mean I enjoy being separated from him.
I whirl on my mother and brother, who puffs out his small chest. “I’ll help,” Finnick says, flying toward the tent flaps.
I manage to grab hold of his tunic, forcing him back before he can escape. “You’ll help by staying with Mother.”
“But—”
“Don’t argue with me, Finnick. You and Mother stay together. Don’t leave this tent unless your lives are in danger,” I command.
“Our lives are always in danger!” Finnick snaps, throwing his hands in the air, exasperated.
Before I can reply, my mother takes Finnick from me, placing him back on her shoulder. “Go, my boy. We will be fine. Your people need you.”
“Stay put!” I command, my voice sharp with authority as I push past the tent flaps and step into the chaos beyond. The thin walls of the tent offer little protection, but out here, beneath the open sky, where steel meets flesh, I feel truly alive.
Despite the looming danger, a surge of adrenaline floods my veins, setting my pulse ablaze. A wild grin spreads across my lips, unbidden. I crave this fight—the clash of blades, the raw intensity of battle. The thought of cutting down every Nephilim in our path sends a thrill through me.
I’m going to enjoy this far more than I should.