Chapter 16
MAE
The portal spits us in front of a quaint cottage nestled in the middle of a forest, filled with gargantuan trees with trunks as thick as the bears that climb them.
Birds chirp, and brilliant beams of light cascade through the canopy.
To the right, a massive wall of rock juts upward, small collections of trees and bushes adorning its granite surface as it stretches toward the sky.
A chipmunk dashes past us and races toward the cabin, slipping into a hole where the forest floor meets the cabin wall.
“This is it?” I ask, eyeing the small cottage skeptically. The front door is the largest feature, its wooden facade almost reaching the roof.
The corner of Asmo’s mouth twitches. “It’s more of a grower than a shower.”
My jaw drops as I burst into a laugh. He turns and heads toward the cottage, but I reach for him and grab the back of his wool coat. “Wait!” I say with a huff. “I know August said it’s okay to come as ourselves, but should we put our marks on? Just to be safe?”
Asmo frowns. “I—”
The wooden door opens before he can answer the question. Asmo shifts to step in front of me, shielding me behind him. Over his shoulder, a mop of brown, curly hair comes into view.
Barrett.
He looks the same, but his normally tidy hair is loose, wavy locks curling just below his ears.
I shove Asmo to the side and close the distance between us, slamming into Barrett and crushing him in a tight hug.
The last time I saw him was at my wedding, his bear form vicious and cutting through cambions and dark creatures as he fought to defend me and my kingdom.
“It’s really you,” he whispers into my hair. He smells of clay and dust and I cling to him. He gives me one final squeeze before releasing me. “When August told me…” He trails off with a shake of his head.
I step back to Asmo’s side.
“I can’t believe it. I really can’t believe it,” Barrett says, pulling the front door open. “Come in. Let’s get out of the cold.” He ushers us inside and I freeze when I see what exactly is hidden inside this quaint cottage.
“Told you,” Asmo mutters in my ear.
We stand at the top of a large stair landing. Beneath us, a wide stone staircase winds in lazy circles into the depths of a massive cave. The stairs lead to different levels, each entry alcove bright with lit candelabras embedded in stone walls.
Barrett turns to face us, a grin on his handsome face. “Cool, isn’t it?”
I snort in response. Cool is an understatement.
This place is grand, stunning, its size and depth staggering.
He gestures for us to follow him. Although the stairs are wide enough for the three of us to walk side-by-side, one glance down at the emptiness beneath us has me walking behind Barrett and Asmo.
“Welcome to the Court of Bears,” Barrett says, pride in every word.
We stop at the third level down, candelabras blazing brilliantly. Even from the top of the stair landing, this level was illuminated. A chandelier of branches hangs from a tall, sloped ceiling, highlighting two stone thrones and the figures perched in them.
King Torben and Queen Artis.
Torben wears a simple black robe with a light brown tunic and matching trousers.
His short, brown curly hair is neatly styled underneath a crown of branches.
His large hands rest on the armrests of his stone throne, thick fingers gripping the edges.
Beside him, Queen Artis wears a loose blue gown the color of the sky on a cloudless day.
Her straight, thick brown hair flows freely, resting behind her shoulders.
Her eyes are warm, the color of milk chocolate, a stark contrast to her husband’s hard and unyielding gaze.
One princess, both tall and broad in stature, stands on each side of them. Their gazes are soft, but their postures are ramrod straight. Barrett leaves our side and stands centered between them, a sudden look of apprehension on his face as his gaze flits between his father and me.
I form a deep bow. Beside me, Asmo huffs a sigh of impatience.
“Rise,” a deep voice rumbles from the throne.
Unease prickles in my gut. I stand straight, tall. I am still the High Queen. Barrett gives me a brief nod. That’s all I need.
“Hello,” I say, projecting my voice. “You must be King Torben.” His face remains impassive. I dip my head toward Queen Artis. “And you, Queen Artis.” Her eyes twinkle, but her features remain neutral otherwise. “It’s lovely to officially meet you both.”
Less is more, Holly’s voice echoes in my head. Quiet is confident.
So, I wait.
The King and Queen of the Bear Court watch me carefully. I don’t take my eyes from them, not even to glance at Barrett. They could both shift and tear me to shreds in an instant.
“Welcome to our court.” Torben’s tone is official and lacks any warmth.
“We received a visit from Prince August. He informed us of the meeting you had with him. Of the tale you weave.” Every sentence is a statement of fact, devoid of any emotion.
He’s careful to hold his cards close to the vest, but his words tell me all I need to know—he doesn’t believe me.
I shift on my feet. “It is no tale. He speaks the truth.” He doesn’t say anything, so I continue, “We’ve come to seek your help in destroying the usurpers of the throne—High King Marik and his…consort,” I say, the word tasting like ash on my tongue. “The First Witch.”
Torben tilts his chin upward. “You mean to tell me that the First Witch is on the throne? And everyone thinks it’s you?”
I shake my head. “No, not exactly. My advisor and friend, Elle, is on the throne.”
He quirks an eyebrow. “Your friend?”
Damnit, Mae. I regain my composure, my confidence, and project my voice again. “Yes, we believe the First Witch and Marik are compelling her to use dark magic to transform her appearance. To pretend to be me. Although there is an imposter on the High Throne, that imposter is a prisoner.”
Torben steeples his fingers together. “And? How do you expect us to help? You got yourself ousted from the throne, and expect us to divert our limited resources to helping you get it back?”
I suck air through my teeth, trying to bottle the rage I feel, but it slips through. “If you don’t, then Marik and Cora will ruin the kingdom. You’re a fool if you think they’ll stop with my throne.”
Torben directs his gaze to Asmo. “And you, boy, your brother is responsible for this? And you had no hand in it?”
Asmo bristles at the title, or lack thereof.
“Might I remind you, I’m the same status as your son,” he says, and I swear I can feel darkness radiating from his every word.
“I’ll tolerate your disrespect toward me, but I will not tolerate, nor will I forget, the disrespect you’ve shown the High Queen today.
We come to you seeking your assistance out of respect, but Mae could easily order you and your entire court to go to war for her.
She could send your court to their deaths to fight for her.
But she stands here, in front of you, bowing to you, while you sit on your thrones and treat her like she’s beneath you. ”
Torben shifts in his seat. He opens his mouth, but Artis speaks first. “Forgive my husband,” she says, placing her hand on his forearm.
“When August came to us, we were skeptical. And we remain so. High King Marik has visited us several times, trying to place witches in our court, and we were under the impression that you stood beside him and supported this. We’ve been noncompliant, at least in his words,” she says with a shrug.
“We are just trying to protect our home. Forgive us for our caution, Your Highness.”
She rises from her throne. Despite her large frame, every step toward me is fluid. Her pale blue gown flows behind her on the rough stone floor. She stops in front of me and sinks to one knee in a deep bow.
“Please rise,” I say, still hating the way the words feel on my tongue.
When she does, a smile graces her face. She returns to her throne, long brown hair bobbing at her waist. Torben stands next. I thought Barrett was tall, but his father is colossal. As he walks toward me, I can’t help but feel like I’m shrinking with every step.
He drops to a knee before me, the top of his head coming to my chest. I let him remain on his knees for a few moments longer than Artis. “You may rise,” I say, not hating it as much this time.
He stands, offering me another tilt of his head before returning to his throne with a deep sigh.
“My wife is right,” he says gruffly. “I apologize, Your Highness. We are, of course, happy to see you are unharmed. We are also undoubtedly glad to hear it is not you behind the witches’ resurgence.
But it seems we have a long road ahead of us,” he says, exhaustion now weighing down every word.
“I know time is of the essence, but I’d like to meet with my family before we speak further.
Shall we reconvene in the morning and discuss how to defeat the usurpers? ”
I swallow hard at the dismissal. I’m eager to get back, to see how Cally’s doing, to finally get some kind of direction, some answer on how the hell we’re going to move forward and defeat Marik.
Barrett comes forward. “I’ll take you to our guest quarters.”
We offer the King and Queen a final, albeit brief, bow before following Barrett from the throne room and onto the landing. The moment we step from the throne room, I feel like my lungs can fully expand.
Barrett is silent as he leads us down three more levels, the light from above fading with every step downward. We reach the third landing down and turn toward another caved hallway.
“There’s a private kitchenette and a private bathroom in the guest suite.
You should have no need to leave, unless, of course, you’d like to.
” He places his palm on the center of a door at the end of the hallway and mutters something under his breath.
“Give it a try. The spell should recognize both of your magic now.”