Chapter 41
My body feels like a boneless heap of flesh as I twist through the dazzling rainbow colors.
Blood rushes from my head and into my toes.
The ground reverberates through my legs as we land in Toraigh.
Soft sand cushions our impact, but I still wobble getting my bearings.
Lachlan’s hand grabs hold of mine, steadying me as I sway.
If Tuadanaan was a treasure box, then Toraigh is a painting. It’s nearly night. The watery light shimmies through the fog and caresses the land around us.
Not land.
Ocean.
This realm is a glittering turquoise ocean, except for the rising mass of sand in front of us in which the castle sits. An entire city rests on a sandbar in the middle of the ocean.
The fog is thicker in front of us, like a ward hiding it from outsiders. But from where we stand, half in the ward, and half out, I can see the outline of a great, black stone wall flanked with guard towers, and the looming peaks of a castle.
Eira and Balthasar stand in front of us, shouting orders at the soldiers who land in the realm. She glances back over her shoulder to see me and my court. A grateful smile flashes across her face, but it’s the relief in her eyes that has me taking a step forward.
“Where is he?” I ask.
Balthasar answers. “We assume he’s inside. We’re waiting for them to lower the drawbridge now.”
As he finishes speaking, metal whines and stone rumbles. A hidden door cracks open and lowers slowly onto the sand in front of us, allowing us entry. Soldiers run towards it, lining the front of the wall. Their black scale armor blending in with the stone renders them invisible.
Balthasar turns back towards us and gestures to the ocean. “We have entire cities under the sea, but most of our realm’s inhabitants live behind this wall.” He nods at the soldiers standing guard. “It has never been breached.”
Eira takes a step onto the bridge and looks over her shoulder to ensure we follow her, but she pauses. Her eyes widen. The whites of them swallowing the turquoise.
A shrill horn rents the air. The fog swirls behind us rapidly and, with its movement, there are glimpses of the churning ocean behind us. The ocean and the giant black clouds on the horizon.
Fire erupts in the guard towers. A warning of what’s approaching. The black clouds rip apart into individual sails, hundreds if not thousands of them.
An invasion.
The ground shakes violently and I grip Lachlan’s hand, trying to stay on my feet. Behind us, Mathilda steadies Tane. His brow lowers, darkness settling over his face.
Harald scoops up Mina, clutching her to his chest, as he crouches low to not fall over. Luna reaches out a hand to Evander, who squeezes it, pulling her to him. Piominko closes his eyes, a slow breath easing from his chest as we ride the quake out.
But fear is etched onto Freya’s face as she clings to Odr.
“The giants are here,” she whispers.
There’s a thundering boom, and then another. Sand slides away from the castle walls. The sea level rises rapidly, reclaiming the land it once owned. Giants wade through the water towards us.
My jaw drops as great, towering men cut through the surging waves. Their heads clear the top of the wall and easily peer over its side and to the castle behind it.
“Run,” Eira says, turning towards the opening in the wall. “Close the gate!”
We hurtle over the drawbridge and through the hidden door.
Racing across the stone bridge and through the walls as the drawbridge below us rises to shut. On the other side of the wall is a wide arched bridge high above more water. Houses and shops are afloat on the wide river that snakes under the bridge we hurtle across.
The castle rises before us, towering peaks, and gothic arched windows. It’s beautiful and haunting at the same time. Like someone has encased a dissolving sandcastle in stone.
A massive shadow streaks on the ground between us and the carved oak doors of the castle.
Someone screams, “Duck!”
A ball of flame explodes onto the bridge before us. Mina screams. I almost skid to a halt, but Eira merely waves her hand and a deluge of water springs up from the side of the bridge and douses the flames.
Fae magic.
My heart strikes against my ribs with each slam of my feet against the stone. Pain spears through my throat with each breath that comes out in uneven pants. We keep pace hurtling across the bridge until at last we reach the palace doors.
Open. Open.
A sharp gust of wind comes out of nowhere, ripping the doors open in front of us as we tumble across the threshold and into the entryway.
Balthasar throws a hand behind him and the doors slam shut. I bend over, gasping for air. Spots cloud my vision as I work to slow my rapid heart rate.
There are dragons and giants on the other side of that door. And who knows what creatures roam the decks of all those ships?
I count to four, still bending over my knees.
Black-and-white marble floor shines in the glittering light above us.
A giant chandelier, like a branch of a tree, has thousands of tiny droplets of light dripping from it.
It rattles as a thunderous crash slams against the castle, sending the light bouncing around chaotically.
Fear seizes my chest, tightening each space between my ribs.
A dozen locks click into place and a large steel bar is lowered, securing the door behind us. I scan the group, ensuring we all made it inside and my shoulders slightly lower with relief. Balthasar and Eira whisper tersely to each other, discussing where Julius might be.
But I know.
I know exactly where here is.
Striding up the sweeping staircase and past the lifelike statues of my father’s family, I make my way to the throne room. Lachlan keeps pace easily with me as I stomp up the stairs.
“Do ye ken where you’re going?” He asks, monitoring the halls in front of us.
My chin lowers in one swift motion.
Marching sounds around us, bouncing off the marble floors before being swallowed up by the soaring ceiling.
They’re all following me. My stomach pitches.
Lachlan, Mina, Mathilda, Tane, Luna, Evander, Freya, Odr, Piominko, and Harald. With me, that makes eleven. But with Eira and Balthasar, it’s now thirteen.
The Chosen of thirteen, her heart will deem,
If the night will grieve, then the land will bleed…
A long crimson rug lays out before me, leading the way to a carved oak door.
Eira clears her throat from on my other side. The lines around her mouth are taught as she grimaces. “I don’t think he’ll look the same as he did when he was in your realm.” I glance sidelong at her. “Prepare yourself.”
But nothing could have prepared me for the sight before me as Lachlan and Balthasar heave the doors open.
My father. Lounging on the throne.
A fist clenches my heart, snatching the air from my lungs.
“Well, now this is a surprise,” he purrs.
I’m relieved that the voice is not my father’s.
But still, I avert my eyes anywhere else, other than at his face.
The face of the man I loved so much. The man who gave up his life to keep me safe, who left his world and his people so that he could raise me in the hope I would one day save it all. To make it better.
I scan the throne room. Its grand stone arches are gothic, much like the exterior.
The throne he lounges on is entirely silver stone, carved with sea creatures.
The head of a sea dragon rises behind him as if peering at whoever stands in front of the dais.
The chair itself is enormous and could undoubtedly seat at least five men.
“What the fuck do you think you are doing?” Eira grinds out, walking beside me.
Julius’ familiar sneer is replaced with a forced pout. “I didn’t expect you back so soon, dear. But now that you are here. Let’s have a little family reunion while I tell you the plan.”
The hair on the back of my neck rises. Feeling for all the world that we’ve walked into a carefully laid trap.
Fury has my hands trembling and I clench them into fists.
But my voice is surprisingly steady as I ask, “Reunion?”
Julius sneers down at me from my father’s face. A glimmer of thin sunlight shines through the stained glass window and has his turquoise eyes glowing. Not his—my father’s. He snaps his fingers and a small company of guards march in from hidden doors beside the throne.
“Stop!” Eira orders, but they don’t listen. “What is the meaning of this?”
Julius laughs, the sound low and dark. “You’ve been usurped, my dear.”
The men all wear the same scale-like armor that Eira and Balthasar wear, but their eyes are wholly black, devoid of any human emotion. These are not their men anymore.
Their souls have been replaced.
We draw our weapons. Swords whine from sheaths and I unstrap my axe from my back.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Julius purrs.
He snaps again and a guard trudges up the dais from behind a stone archway, his dagger held at the throat of a woman. With raven black hair and slate-blue eyes.
Odessa.