20. Stellen
Chapter Twenty
Stellen
Thyra’s steady heartbeat fills my mind, but the world around us is anything but peaceful.
The darkness is gone, but now I face my final pain.
Putting my past to peace.
But it requires truth and vulnerability in the face of my mortal enemy.
The Ember King hunches opposite me, dwarfing his aunt, who kneels to my right. Maxim isn’t as tall as me, but his upper body is broader, and he’s proven to be quick on his feet.
He’s a threat to me.
I can’t forget that.
Yet he hasn’t spoken a word since he burned the blood to ash. He hasn’t broken the peace between us as he easily could.
Fuck, but he looks as drained as I feel.
I focus on Thyra, reminding myself that I can fight my way free and get her out of here at any moment if I need to.
I breathe in the gentle beats of her heart. Her quiet exhalations. The soft hum radiating from her armor, a calm that is no longer agitated and fearful.
“For they shall Sing no more,” I whisper, the same prayer she spoke over my family’s grave. “All of their hopes, spoken and unspoken, will now rest in silence.”
Carefully, I reach for the yellow ribbon, where Miriam supports Thyra’s arm, shivering at the power radiating out from it.
Slowly, I unwind my sister’s ribbon from around Thyra’s wrist. Two broken pieces now.
I lift them to my lips. “You are not dust, nor darkness,” I whisper, “but a dream of what could be. It is not the end. One day, we will Sing together again.”
The two pieces shiver in my open hand and then I can hear it again.
My mother’s song.
Her voice chimes like a series of bells, the purest, most breathtaking melody rising up and filling the air around me. A song of love. Hope. Faith. Protection.
Peace.
As her voice rises around me, I breathe it in, allowing my soul to calm, and so does the storm.
Through the snowfall, early morning sunlight finally begins to shine. The rays widen and the ice begins to dissipate.
The song ends and I raise my head, facing the peace of a storm that is no more.
My family’s pain is no more.
I thought I’d feel empty, but my heart expands. My next inhale brings Thyra’s scent to my lips. White roses. Life in this desert.
Sand dunes stretch out around me. The breeze is warm.
Directly ahead, the women standing in rows lower their arms before they sink to the ground, visibly exhausted.
I close my hand around the pieces of my sister’s ribbon before I press my cheek to Thyra’s. I vow that one day, I will braid these pieces into my hair again, create a warrior’s braid as my mother would have wanted.
When I open my eyes again, I find Maxim watching me, his expression hooded.
His aunt is quiet. “What will you do now, Frost King?”
Damn, but this might be my hardest decision. “Thyra deserves to be with fae who can take care of her.”
“True.” Miriam nods, astutely anticipating my thoughts.
“But before you sacrifice your own desires and walk away, you might consider that it was the trauma of losing you that gave the blood magic a foothold in the first place. Imagine how she will feel if she wakes up to hear you’re alive, but you chose to abandon her. ”
I can’t forget her cry when the Iron King left her after she asked him to stay. She had dropped her head into her hands, pressed the heel of her palm to her mouth, and tried to muffle her scream of pain, a broken cry that shattered my hearing.
“How can I stay?” I ask, brushing the hair from Thyra’s face, willingly drowning in her quiet breathing. “I can only tolerate this warm environment for a day. Maybe two. I can’t endure it much longer than that and neither can my wolf.”
Behind me, Nara gives a soft whine. Now that the sun is shining, she will be drawing on her inner energy to keep herself cool.
Maxim clears his throat, rolling his shoulders.
Stiffly, he says, “There’s an abandoned tower at the northeastern corner of Ember.
Very close to the burned-out cliffs. We passed it on our way here.
I don’t expect that you saw it through the storm.
I stopped manning that tower years ago because it was too exposed to Iron Fae attacks.
I kept losing men, so I built an alternative tower farther south. ”
My forehead creases at his long explanation about a tower. “What are you saying?”
“The temperatures there are cooler because of the eastern winds,” he says, without a hint of emotion.
“You would be distanced enough from my people that they won’t feel immediately threatened, but close enough to the border to watch for any Iron Fae attacks.
While also being accessible to Thyra if she needs you. ”
“You’re offering me a place to stay?”
He doesn’t seem to want to say it out loud. “You can identify that particular tower by its distinctive black stone. I had it constructed of charcoal rock to blend with the darker environment.”
“I accept.”
He bares his teeth at me. “I didn’t offer you anything.”
I keep a blank face. “Of course you didn’t. We’re enemies.”
“Don’t forget it.” He pulls to his feet, but he doesn’t reach for Thyra, backing away instead, his focus rising to the increasingly hot sun, which is once again burning orange in the sky.
Fire flickers around his hands, but his grimace tells me the flames aren’t voluntary.
The echo of his shout returns to me. It isn’t safe.
From what I’ve heard, his fire is becoming more uncontrollable, but now I wonder if his situation is far direr than that.
“Auntie,” he says, “pitch those daggers into the sand at my feet. I gave the Iron King my word I would confiscate any piece of that wood I found in my kingdom.”
One of the daggers lies on the sand where Miriam dropped it. The other has remained strapped to Thyra’s thigh.
Miriam retrieves both and throws them neatly to Maxim, who scoops one into each fist.
The metal blades melt between his fingers, scorching to ash, but startlingly, the wooden hilts remain intact. He grips each piece in one of his hands as he turns away.
“You’ve spoken with the Iron King,” I say, forcing Maxim to pause.
He half-turns back to give me a curt nod, but I don’t miss the sudden look that passes between him and his aunt.
“So have I,” I say.
Antony and I only had a brief conversation, cut short by the urgency of getting his warriors to safety, but I’m certain there was more he could have told me. And more I could have told him.
Maxim’s already retreating, his muscles bunching as if he were about to run the hell out of here.
Judging by the erratic flames licking along his arms, he has good reason.
“There are things you need to know about Thyra and the curse,” I call, my left hand shooting out, a cautious frost spilling into the air and cooling the space, but I’m conscious that it will take a lot more than this to neutralize Maxim’s burgeoning fire.
“When you’re ready, well, you know where to find me. ”
Maxim balances on the balls of his feet, the heat radiating off him growing more intense with every passing second.
His focus snaps to his aunt. “The minute Thyra wakes up, I want to be informed.”
“It will be done,” she promises.
A second later, he’s running, fire bursting around him. He races wide of the women and steers clear of his serpent, even though the beast edges toward him.
“No!” he shouts. “Stay away.”
He disappears over the next sand dune and only the heat waves wafting across the air indicate his receding location until finally even those waves are gone.
“He lives alone,” Miriam says. “Has done for years now.” She gives me a pointed look. “No sane fae invites the Ember King into their space.”
Ha. I’m reminded of the time I told Thyra that no sane fae travels across the Frost Kingdom during the nighttime snowstorms.
I give Miriam the same frightening grin I gave Thyra at the time.
To her credit, like Thyra, Miriam doesn’t flinch.
She remains at my side despite the threat I pose to her. For so many years, fae have avoided me, fearing my frost. Fearing my Voice. It’s strange that her presence feels natural and not forced.
“In all your hesitation,” she says, folding her hands in her lap, evidently completely relaxed, “you didn’t once mention needing to return to your people.”
I doubt news of the Winter Strife will stay within the Frost Kingdom for long. Too many spies everywhere for that.
“That throne is no longer mine,” I say, surprised by how a weight lifts from me with these words. “The fate of the Frost Fae no longer rests on my shoulders.”
“Ah.” Miriam nods, but now she’s the one giving me a frightening grin. “Only the fate of the three kingdoms, then.”
Before I can reply, the soft crunching of footsteps in sand becomes impossible to ignore. The women are making their way toward us, even though their steps are slow and labored. The golden serpent slides carefully alongside them, seeming cautious not to spray sand into their path.
“These women are known as the Mothers,” Miriam explains. “They are all Mother to the King.”
Before I can ask how that works, she gives me a hard stare. “Do not expect them to say anything. They have chosen not to speak with the king and as a consequence, they must not converse with any fae outside their circle, either.”
When my eyebrows arch higher, Miriam gives a sigh. “It’s a long story.”
I want to tell her I have time, but Thyra doesn’t.
Her lips are dry and beads of sweat are growing on her forehead. I missed the moment when her features stopped glowing and she resumed her lowborn appearance. Golden energy no longer pulses along her arm.
Her breathing is shallower than before. She acclimated to my freezing kingdom and now she’s exposed to growing heat while she’s also undoubtedly dehydrated.
Carefully, I withdraw the Alak-Teahan cloak from around her shoulders and drop it to the sand. She doesn’t need it any longer. Her armor will protect her from the burning sun without overheating her.
The women reach us a moment later, the serpent close behind them, all of them stopping expectantly nearby.
“We will care for her, Frost King,” Miriam promises me. “As if she were our own daughter.”
I guess they’re waiting for me to hand Thyra over.
I can’t keep the sharpness from my voice. “I told you, I’m not the Frost King anymore.”
Every part of my soul roars at me not to let Thyra go. Parting with her feels like breaking off a piece of myself.
Gently, Miriam gestures to the serpent. Rising to my feet, I carry Thyra to the beast, steering clear of its quietly hissing mouth.
The saddle the serpent is wearing is made of an unusual material, but I don’t have time to study it before Miriam leaps onto the serpent’s back and settles into the saddle.
“Pass her up, please,” Miriam says, reaching for Thyra.
I’m not taking any chances that Thyra will fall. Jumping lightly from the ground onto the serpent’s neck, I pass Thyra to Miriam, prepared to assist further, but the Ember woman seems remarkably strong.
Within moments, she’s pulled Thyra close, supporting her head while slipping her legs into the folds of the saddle to keep her secure.
Hmm. I’m reminded that Ember Law doesn’t permit women to fight in wars, but Miriam looks extremely comfortable on the back of this serpent.
Reluctantly, I slide to the ground, my arms now empty.
“Thank you, Frost King,” Miriam says as the Mothers turn and set off at a run ahead of her. “As soon as Thyra wakes, I’ll send word. What you do until then is up to you.”
The serpent surges forward, its body snaking along the sand before rising into the air, flying low and quickly catching up with the running women.
As the group approaches the top of the next dune, Miriam’s soft whisper reaches my sharp ears across the distance.
“Quickly, serpent,” she murmurs as she leans close to the serpent’s head. “We need to get the Oracle underground as fast as we can. Without being stopped. No matter what it takes. Do you understand?”
The serpent hisses and then the group passes over the crest of the dune.
I pause, my brow furrowing at the tension in Miriam’s voice. Without being stopped? No matter what it takes?
My eyes narrow, my gaze passing to the sand dunes that swallowed Maxim, an undefinable dread rising within me.
I should have asked more questions. I know the Ember Fae are a people of fire and that, other than Maxim’s sister, their women aren’t allowed to hold positions of authority, but I’m also not aware of any civil unrest.
Maybe I should have gone with Thyra…
But that would guarantee a fight. And many dead Ember Fae.
Dammit, I have no choice but to keep my distance.
Unable to turn away, I watch as the serpent’s body disappears behind the dune, the furrow in my brow deepening.
For a second… I think I catch a pulse of golden energy, just like the blade’s energy, rippling down the serpent’s tail, but I shake it off.
It can only be the sun’s reflection off the serpent’s scales.