Chapter 9
“Those few days of rest were exactly what you needed.” Neena bowed her head, placing salve in my bag. “Have patience with him. He’s stubborn, but when he finally lets someone in, he cares completely.”
“Thank you.” I smiled softly.
Lioran tugged his black leather vest taut. His hand gripped Veylar’s saddle. “Thank you again for everything, Neena.”
His hand wrapped around my waist, steadying me as I pulled myself up onto his stallion. Veylar’s rhythm was one with the land as he carried us through the lush forest of Lythira. Lioran commanded his horse without words down the winding path.
A familiar screech cut through the rustling trees—a falcon soared overhead. Muscles seized in my back as it slid into a nearby tree.
Lioran and Fyn exchanged glances.
The falcon circled us.
Memories of Thalen flashed in my mind—the way he commanded the falcon as if it were an extension of him. My fists clenched tight until my palms throbbed.
Only fae could cross the divide. Could his bird?
“Keep an eye out, Fyn.” Lioran shifted in the saddle, gripping Veylar’s reins tighter.
The falcon circled us for an hour and then finally disappeared before sunset. Thunder cracked, dividing the sky. Tiny orange embers descended into the darkness as Fyn prodded the fire. Lioran unrolled mats not far beside it.
A chill had descended. I longed for the cabin’s warmth, for anything that felt like the home I once knew. It was all gone and now only this world remained. Everyone I knew was gone with it.
Lioran and Fyn spoke so softly that I could barely hear their words. Lioran’s gaze softened on me as he caught me watching.
He didn’t have to be kind to me.
He could have left me where he found me.
Golden glittering flecks cast a glow in the inky sky. Looking to the stars would always remind me of her.
“The stars hold our stories. They design our fate.” Lioran sat beside me. My palms caught the heat from the fire.
“My mother used to always tell me that.” I wiped a stray tear that escaped. “Where I’m from, no one else believes it.”
“They don’t need to understand it. Bailoc hasn’t experienced their call.” He offered a tender smile. “But you have.”
A breathy gasp escaped my lips. The tower. The book. It was the start of it all.
“They chose the wrong princess.” I nervously laughed, but Lioran’s gentle expression didn’t falter.
“They don’t make mistakes.” His voice lowered. “Only those who are worthy of their favor are chosen.”
My heart stilled. No one had ever spoken that way to me before. Something settled within me—a calm that pulsed through me until my shoulders loosened. I had never felt it before.
“Few will agree with you. I am the princess of a kingdom that destroyed yours.”
“No one will challenge you in Lythira.” He looked around to the horses, to Fyn. “I’m Guardian of Lythira. This territory and the fae that live here are my responsibility.” He wrapped his hands around his knees. “As long as you reside in my lands, you are my responsibility, too.”
He brought me to safety. He even offered to find someone to train me. Despite everything he was taught about me, about my people, he was kind to me. Maybe he truly meant to protect me.
Lioran watched the fire flicker. His eyes avoided mine.
“It’s his fifth year in the role, and already he’s making lavish promises,” Fyn interrupted.
“Fifth year as prince?” I asked.
“No, fifth year as Guardian. My father waited until my brothers, and I reached thirty to assign our territories. Lythira is mine. Calyth overseas Eyrsea and Pyrran is responsible for Kybar. Each a living, breathing part of the Kingdom of Nythrel.”
“You’re thirty-five? I assumed you were much older,” I said.
“Do we look it?” Fyn warmed his hands by the fire.
I shook my head.
“We all know how old you are.” Fyn tilted his head toward Lioran.
“You must have just turned twenty-five,” Lioran said.
“How did you know?” The hairs rose all over my body.
“The war started just after you were born.” Lioran exhaled slowly. “It’s not a year I can forget.”
Pain radiated deep within my chest—I would always be a reminder of the war. My lips parted, but as I opened my mouth to speak no words came.
“Do you all really think we live for thousands of years?” Fyn asked. A snort escaped my mouth.
“I thought I remembered it from my mother’s stories, but honestly it’s been so long since I’ve heard any tales of the fae to know whether I remembered correctly,” I said.
Lioran raised his brow. “I imagine they’re not shared frequently.”
“No.” My smile faded remembering all that was lost from our library. “Any book that once contained your stories was…” I exhaled. “Burned.”
Silence held like an unnatural divide between us as I watched the embers shift.
“My mother made sure I knew as much as I could.”
“So, you would know the truth,” Lioran spoke as if he knew.
My smile faltered as my eyes filled with water again. “So I would know the truth,” I repeated, digesting his words. “I think I’d like to rest now.”
As I rose, my muscles resisted. Each step toward the sleeping mats brought me closer to the book—to the answers I needed. I waited for Fyn and Lioran to speak again before I pulled it from my satchel. With an exhale, I pressed it open, breathing in its scent. Something about it felt like home.
I wondered still if they were telling the truth. About the war. About me. About my magic.
Each letter formed quickly.
The fae prince speaks the truth.
It is how your story began.
The war started from hatred and jealousy.
You did not make the decision—it is not your burden to carry.
A chill trailed my spine. So many truths had been hidden from me, and now I was uncovering them all. All my life there was something within me that felt unnatural. It was a pain that hovered in my chest even long after I walked through grief.
King Ardyn and Lord Joran were so quick to act on the marriage pact. Maybe they knew that in time who I was would be revealed and then they couldn’t hide it anymore.
I still saw glimmers of the destruction I caused in Evyn. They danced through my mind. I didn’t know what my magic was, or what it would do if left untamed. The ink dashed across the page, catching my eye.
Your magic is a gift from the stars.
You were chosen to be one with the land—it is a rare and special gift.
It was a gift I couldn’t control.
I slid the book into my satchel. There would be a time I’d open it again, but for now, I needed only the starlight. The stars twinkled in an uneven cadence as I lay back on a mat. Maybe they knew I questioned them.
An unfamiliar, melodic laugh echoed. I turned on the mat to see a wide smile spread on Lioran’s face as Fyn spoke. The wind drowned out their words, but still I watched their joy with envy.
The day had been warm, but the night brought a crisp chill. The wind bit at my cheeks until I trembled, yet a gust of warmth trailed through me. A calm and quiet energy that left me feeling as if everything would be okay.
“You’re shivering,” Lioran said. I hadn’t heard him approach. He knelt beside me with a wool blanket in his hands. I was already draped in my own. The lines around his eyes softened as he looked at me. “Take my blanket.”
“I’ll be fine.” My hand met his as I shook my head. His warmth flooded me and I pulled back.
“Maybe, but I won’t be able to sleep knowing you’re awake shivering.” The scratchy wool sifted over my skin as he lay the blanket on top of me.
“I would hate for that to happen.” My smirk quickly shifted. I spoke that freely with Cael before, but never another. “Thank you,” I quickly whispered.
“You’re welcome, Your Highness,” Lioran said as he lay down on the mat beside me.
I froze—I hadn’t thought to shift the mats, to give myself space, and now I would have none. Lioran rolled over on his mat, until only his back greeted me.
My body relaxed. I trusted him. I trusted them both. Maybe I would regret it, but for now, I felt safe.
Fyn pulled his mat off to the side, shaking his head.
Then only the stars held my attention until my eyelids grew too heavy.
Veylar raced down the path after the first glimmer of light danced over the horizon. Lioran shifted in the saddle behind, his thigh pressed firmly against mine.
The shrill screech amplified. Lioran held one hand tight on the stallion’s reins, and another firm at my waist. I would have pulled away, but Fyn’s joyful demeanor shifted. He pulled his fist back and Lioran pressed Veylar harder.
He leaned into me in the saddle. “Whatever happens, hold your ground,” Lioran hissed in my ear. “By any means necessary.”
A bitter taste settled on my tongue.
Hooves pounded the land in the distance. A stallion and a rider gaining speed on us—and then another. Veylar sped down the winding path.
Brush scraped over my legs, over Veylar, but still he continued onward. Lioran tightened his grip on me. His breath quickened against my skin. I counted the riders—four, five, and then the sixth came into view. The dagger bounced at my riding belt. It called to me.
The unsteady terrain jolted my hand as I attempted to free it.
“I’ve got you. Go. Now!” Fyn yelled as he fell back behind us.
They were closing in on us. In moments, they would be beside us.
Finally, I wrangled the dagger free. The chill met my palm. My stomach lurched.
“We’ve come for the princess.” The rider gripped the hilt of his sword as he raced beside us. “Give her to us and we’ll let you leave.”
They knew who I was.
Lioran didn’t stop Veylar, but I heard his breathing quicken.
A hand clamped around my leg. Without thought, I lifted the dagger and drove it into the attacker’s hand.
He released me as the dagger struck—his low, guttural growl left me quaking.
The dagger tumbled from my grasp as the terrain shifted.
An impassable, dense thicket of trees lay ahead of us.
Veylar reared back. Lioran braced me as my body slammed into his.
With a final thud of his hooves, Veylar spun. We were surrounded. Each breath was heavier than the last.