For weeks now, Benjamin hadn’t had any contact with any of his friends— allies, whatever they had been. So, one last time, Benjamin slipped into the rhythm of his old duties. Though it was more difficult than ever to oversee the king’s luncheons, though making his reports was an effort of will, he did it. He had heard nothing from Aedion or Ren, and still hadn’t yet asked Dorian to use his magic to test out their theories about the spell. He was starting to wonder if he was done playing his part in Alin ’s growing rebellion.He’d gathered enough information, crossed enough lines. Perhaps it was time to learn what could be done from Anielle. He would be closer to Morath, and maybe he could uncover what the king was brewing down there. The king had accepted his plans to take up his mantle as heir to Anielle with hardly any objections. Soon, he was to present options for a replacement.Benjamin was currently standing guard at a state luncheon in the great hall, which Aedion and Dorian
A cooling breeze kissed down Matilda ’s neck. The forest had gone silent, as if the birds and insects had been quieted by her assault on the invisible wall. The barrier had gobbled down every spark of magic she’d launched at it, and now seemed to hum with fresh power.The scent of pine and snow wrapped around her, and she turned to find Leonard standing against a nearby tree. He’d been there for some time now, giving her space to work herself into exhaustion.But she was not tired. And she was not done. There was still wildfire in her mind, writhing, endless, damning. She let it dim to embers, let the grief and horror die down, too.Leonard said, “Word just arrived from Wendlyn. Reinforcements aren’t coming.”“They didn’t come ten years ago,” she said, her throat raw though she had not spoken in hours. Cold, glittering calm was now flowing in her veins. “Why should they bother helping now?”His eyes flickered. “Alin .” When she only gazed into the darkening forest, he suddenly said,
The darkness lashed at Matilda the moment she passed beyond the invisible barrier.A wall of flame seared across the spear of blackness, and, just as she’d gambled, the blackness recoiled. Only to strike again, swift as an asp.She met it blow for blow, willing the fire to spread, a wall of red and gold encasing the barrier behind her. She ignored the reek of the creatures, the hollowness of the air at her ears, the overwhelming throbbing in her head, so much worse beyond the protection of the wards, especially now that all three creatures were gathered. But she did not give them one inch, even as blood began trickling from her nose.The darkness lunged for her, simultaneously assaulting the wall, punching holes through her flame. She patched them by reflex, allowing the power to do as it willed, but with the command to protect—to keep that barrier shielded. She took another step beyond the stone gateway.Nakos was nowhere to be seen, but the three creatures were waiting for her.Unl
There was blood everywhere.As before, Matilda stood between the two bloody beds, reeking breath caressing her ear, her neck, her spine. She could feel the Valiking princes roving around her, circling with predators’ gaits, devouring her misery and pain bit by bit, tasting and savoring.There was no way out, and she could not move as she looked from one bed to the other.Jeremiah ’s corpse, mangled and mutilated. Because she had been too late, and because she had been a coward.And her parents, throats slit from ear to ear, gray and lifeless. Dead from an attack they should have sensed. An attack she should have sensed. Maybe she had sensed it, and that was why she had crept in that night. But she had been too late then as well.Two beds. Two fractures in her soul, cracks through which the abyss had come pouring in long before the Valiking princes had ever seized her. A claw scraped along her neck and she jerked away, stumbling toward her parents’ corpses.The moment that darkness
She lifted her head to find her mother smiling as she removed the golden chain and heavy, round medallion from beneath her nightgown and held it out to her.She looked at the amulet, then at her mother, eyes wide.The Amulet of Olive . The heirloom honored above all others of their house. Its round disk was the size of her palm, and on its cerulean front, a white stag had been carved of horn—horn gifted from the Lord of the Forest. Between his curling antlers was a burning crown of gold, the immortal star that watched over them and pointed the way home to Terrasen. She knew every inch of the amulet, had run her fingers over it countless times and memorized the shape of the symbols etched into the back—words in a strange language that no one could remember.“Father gave this to you when you were in Wendlyn. To protect you.” The smile remained. “And before that, his uncle gave it to him when hecame of age. It is a gift meant to be given to people in our family—to those who need its gui
The barrier fell.But the darkness did not advance over the ward-stones, and Leonard , who had been restrained by Gavriel and Lorcan in the grass outside the fortress, knew why.The creatures and Narrok had captured a prize far greater than the demi-Fae. The joy of feeding on her was something they planned to relish for a long, long while. Everything else was secondary—as if they’d forgotten to continue advancing, swept up in the frenzy of feasting.Behind them, the fighting continued, as it had for the past twenty minutes. Wind and ice were of no use against the darkness, though Leonard had hurled both against it the moment the barrier fell. Again and again, anything to pierce that eternal black and see what was left of the princess. Even as he started hearing a soft, warm female voice, beckoning to him from the darkness—that voice he had spent centuries forgetting, which now tore him to shreds.Leonard had hurled both against it the moment the barrier fell. Again and again, anythi
“I thought you’d be gone by now,” Leonard said.Gavriel’s tawny eyes flickered. “The twins and Vaughan left an hour ago, and Lorcan left at dawn. He said to tell you good-bye.”Leonard nodded in a way that made it very clear he knew Lorcan had done no such thing. “What do you want?”She wasn’t quite sure they had the same definition of friend that she did. But Gavriel looked at her from head to toe and back up again, then at Leonard , and said, “Be careful when you face Maeve. We’ll have given our reports by then.”Leonard ’s stormy expression didn’t improve. “Travel swiftly,” he said, and kept walking.Matilda lingered, studying the Fae Mob , the glimmer of sadness in his golden eyes. Like Leonard , he was enslaved to Maeve—and yet he thought to warn them. With the blood oath, Maeve could order him to divulge every detail, including this moment. And punish him for it. But for his friend …“Thank you,” she said to the golden-haired Mob . He blinked, and Leonard froze. Her arms ach
He leaned over his knees, dipping a large hand in the water. “You’re right. I don’t want you to tell me. Any of it.”“I hate that,” she breathed. “I hate her.”He looked away, toward Goldryn, discarded behind them on the rock. She’d told him its history this morning as she scarfed down enough food for three full-grown Fae Mob s. He hadn’t seemed particularly impressed, and when she showed him the ring she’d found in the scabbard, he had nothing to say other than “I hope you find a good use for it.” Indeed.But the silence that was building between them was unacceptable. She cleared her throat. Perhaps she couldn’t tell him the truth about the third Wyrdkey, but she could offer him another.The truth. The truth of her, undiluted and complete. And after all that they had been through, all that she still wanted to do …So she steeled herself. “I have never told anyone this story. No one in the world knows it. But it’s mine,” she said, blinking past the burning in her eyes, “and it’s time