5. Keira #2
Rainier wraps his hands around two of the bars, staring at me intently. “Do not give up your true nature, no matter what happens. Jasper will protect you and the nymphs will not harm you.” He looks over his shoulder to the battle, then back at me. “Now, you must understand, I have a role to play.”
I watch Rainier as he strides into the fray, his white hair standing out among the darker tones of the Spring fae. He takes a position right at Torin’s side, protecting his back, and they fight together like true allies. He gives me whiplash. I cannot tell if he plays both sides.
The nymphs are winning the battle, but they are not slaughtering the High Chancellor’s forces.
No, many high fae are wrapped in cocoons of fine roots, writhing on the ground.
Others have been collected by thick tree limbs and thrown deeper into the woods, staggering back with severe limps and blood dripping down their faces.
The wind picks up, then howls like a thousand tormented voices. It grows in speed and intensity until my clothes whip around me and I am pelted with twigs and pebbles. Then ghoulish voices are threaded through it.
“Show yourself, High Chancellor, who dares to sit on our king’s throne!”
“Come see the land’s corruption that your reign of ignorance causes!”
“It is you who kills our babies. You who makes us suffer from the agonizing rot.”
“Show yourself! Show your face.”
“Come see. Open your eyes. All of you, open your eyes before we all fall.”
“The end is nigh! Death looms over us!”
Those voices and their words continue, overlapping and haunting.
I press my hands over my ears, but still they pierce me to my soul.
My guards become restless, scanning in all directions for an attack, but neither the nymphs nor their trees assault us.
It is the oddest sight, considering my cage stands in the heart of the battle, with clashes all around us.
They know that I am Aldrin’s mate and queen.
Florian resolves out of the chaos. His blood-red eyes flash and his features twist when he sees the ring of soldiers around me. Titania’s general cuts an imposing figure, taller and broader than the other hardened warriors, practically vibrating with barely restrained violence.
He stalks straight for us, bloody sword pointed at Jasper. “You should be fighting for your High Chancellor, not protecting this pathetic human girl.”
“Keira is a highly valuable guest of the Spring Court,” Jasper snaps back.
“A valuable guest ?” Florian pushes Jasper against the bars of the cage with a hand around his throat, making the entire litter rattle.
The man is rotten through. I could burn him alive with my fire.
Stab him with hundreds of spikes of air.
Or lean forward and touch him, corroding his very life force to nothing but decay with my Autumn earth magic.
I bet I would save this realm a lot of heartache if I did.
Perhaps I could make it look like it was Jasper’s doing.
But if the two men are touching, I cannot guarantee my wields will not hurt them both.
Florian leans in close to Jasper’s ear, but I can still hear him over the top of the nymphs’ wails. “Is your allegiance faltering, Jasper? Decided you prefer Aldrin as king and will suck up to his woman to get back into his favor?”
Jasper shoves Florian hard enough that he staggers backward. “I have done enough for our High Chancellor to be irredeemable in Aldrin’s eyes. Never, never , question my loyalty when we both know heads would roll if we lost this prize to Aldrin’s followers—or worse, to the exiled king himself.”
Florian throws his head back and laughs.
The sound raises bile in my throat, because there is no mirth in it.
“Do you think this is an attack by Aldrin to get his little mate back? He cannot break the bargain, and besides, he would be swarmed by assassins the moment he entered this realm. No, this is personal. These nymphs want Titania’s blood. ”
Jasper pokes a finger in his chest. “What’s wrong, Florian? Are you afraid of a few forest nymphs? I thought you were a brave warrior, highly decorated from the Winter Wars. Or do you prefer your victims to be helpless and unable to fight back? Untrained women and children, perhaps?”
Jasper pushes him again, hard, right into the path of a swinging tree root. The woody appendage wraps around Florian’s middle, ripping him backward through the air. I witness a moment of panic on the fae general’s face before he disappears completely into the gloom of the forest.
Almost as quickly as they came on, the nymphs disappear into the night. Their shrieking falls silent, along with the howling wind, and the trees become still. An eerie peace descends on the site, where even the high fae are too shocked at the sudden change to move.
I find myself shaking from built-up adrenaline, with no one to fight.
Jasper gives me a quick nod, then he and his people dissolve into the fray, helping the injured scattered across the mossy ground and those who stagger back from the inky depths of the woods, still bleeding.
The soldiers make quick work of packing up the camp, including Titania’s pavilion.
I watch as she races frantically from the structure, straight to her litter, pulling the curtains tightly around herself and hiding once more.
A ring of guards surrounds it, swords drawn and eyes scanning for signs of a second attack.
Torin alone represents his family, barking aggressive orders at the soldiers and yelling in their faces.
He strides up to his mother’s litter and parts the curtains slightly, speaking to her.
I strain my ears to listen, but their murmurs are only an echo to me.
Biting my lip, I create a subtle air wield to collect those words and bring them back to me.
“Asha is dead, and we have a few soldiers too injured to travel without being healed first, which is currently happening,” Torin says. “But our damage from this attack is surprisingly low. I believe they were sending a message, but weren’t trying to kill us.”
“I don’t care what their intentions were, Torin!” Titania’s shrill voice hits me and I cringe. “An attack on their High Chancellor is still treason! Punishable by death!”
Torin looks around nervously. “Perhaps we can discuss that after we leave their territory and set up camp somewhere else?” He pauses. “Both Florian and Rainier are unaccounted for. Shall I send out guards to search for them?”
“Leave them. They are replaceable,” she snaps, and my heart sinks. “Get me out of this grove immediately.”
Torin flinches, but he merely nods and closes the curtains. As he looks away, his gaze meets mine, narrowing with suspicion once more. I hold his eye. I will not cower or back down to the likes of him.
A crash at the treeline is the only thing that tears our eyes apart.
Rainier appears, supporting Florian, who staggers and almost loses his footing.
He has a head wound dripping blood and seems somewhat dazed.
I’m surprised Rainier didn’t leave such a man to his fate in the forest, but I truly don’t know a thing about Drake’s son.
I am finding it harder and harder to work out which side he is on, or if he has motivations of his own.
Potent relief cascades over Torin’s face as he races to both men, calling over healers to help them. One thing I have learned about the fae of the Spring Court is that they all have healing abilities to one degree or another, but there are some like Klara who truly excel at it.
Florian’s red gaze flicks to me as Jasper and his guards take the poles of my litter and gently raise me from the ground.
That usual demonic mask of his wrath hits me tenfold, and I can’t help cowering backward as his narrowed eyes take me in like he is dreaming up new punishments.
They roam over my filthy clothes and cage, his lip curling, like I can help my situation.
Like he blames me personally for the tree nymphs’ attack.
Even as our procession hikes through the darkness to a new campsite, he continues to throw me those looks that blaze with a hundred unpleasant promises.
When we settle in an open meadow and both litters are finally lowered to the ground, Titania bursts out of her protection of curtains and cushions like a riled-up cat. I sit back and prepare to watch this nightmare of a show.
Titania grabs Florian by the breastplate and snarls right in his face. “You will go back there and you will slaughter every fucking low fae that just dared to defy me!”
Torin steps forward. “Mother. We should call on more forces and burn their little grove to the ground. Show them that they cannot attack us without deadly consequence. We need to send a message.”
Titania turns to her son and slaps him so hard his head turns to the side. My stupid, soft heart almost squeezes for him as his hand flies to the slashes her claw-like fingernails left across his cheek, utter betrayal flashing in his eyes.
What chance does a man have with such a cruel mother?
“Why did you not kill more of them, Torin?” Titania growls at her son. “Always such a disappointment. And now you have brought shame to our family.”
“High Chancellor,” Florian cuts in. “As much as I am tempted to crush this lowly filth and turn their grove to cinders, if we attack now, we will turn all the low fae against us. Already Aldrin has so many in his pocket. We must be smart and play the long game. I will take care of them, discreetly. When they die screaming they will know they should never have committed treason against you.”
I shake with impotent fury as I mark that man for death. The need for action burns through me, but I cannot do a damned thing. Fae should be able to protest without dying for it. Especially when their survival is on the line.
Titania’s black lips curve into a cruel smile. “Good. I knew I could count on you, Florian.” She shoots Torin another look of disdain and he withers under it.
Florian leads her away to the pavilion that is being hastily furnished with furs and cushions, pulling open the doorway for her. “Now sleep. We will discuss politics in the morning,” he says as he disappears inside.
I close my eyes. I am a mess of rage, fear and anxiety. I cannot let them kill nymphs for taking a stand, cannot let them destroy their home and people. I wrap my arms tightly around myself as a heavy weight settles within me, knowing there is nothing I can do. I have never felt so helpless.
I open my eyes and find a red-eyed demon staring at me through the bars of my cage.
I draw in a sharp breath. Florian doesn’t move as I rear back from him. His gaze only narrows further, flicking over me and taking in every inch of my degradation.
He plays with the lock on my cage and my pulse jumps up a notch.
By the gods, I hope he doesn’t come in here.
I keep reminding myself that there are too many people rushing around us for him to hurt me, but I don’t truly know if that would stop him.
He holds a clean, damp cloth to his head, even though the bleeding has stopped, and I hope he is too injured to be a true threat.
I stare at him, the silence between us stretching out and the tension growing while he analyzes me.
Then he takes a bite from the peach in his hand and his expression twists.
The stone fruit looks divine, the orange flesh covered in a thick rosy dusting that glows with vibrant magic like a jewel, juice spraying out from it.
Florian spits the fruit on the ground. “Sour and tasteless. Is this the sort of rubbish your family grows in their precious orchards? What a waste of fae technology.” He throws the peach at me, smacking me hard in the stomach. “Add that to the pile of rotten fruit you have to eat in your cage.”
Torin turns from the conversation he is having with a handful of others and snickers at Florian’s display.
I don’t care, because the peach in my hands seems perfect and my stomach growls.
Florian drops a small bag outside my bars and more fruit from my home rolls out of it.
Apples, peaches and nectarines. It is a feast to my eyes and his cruel lips quirk up when he notices the longing on my face.
He thinks he has positioned it outside of my reach.
“Too bad you are a little human with no magic to drag this to you. You can stare at this fresh fruit while you scrape rotten juices off the floor. Titania has made it clear that no one is to feed you.” He laughs, but there is no mirth in it. “You look disgusting. Clean yourself up before I vomit.”
Florian throws the towel he holds against his head and it hits me with a wet slap.
I hardly feel the pain. He thinks this is degrading, but the joke is on him—having something to wipe myself clean with is a luxury at this point.
He walks away, with no idea that he just did me two favors in his attempt to humiliate me.