Page 64 of Of Wind and Terror

“Your Highnesses.” The fae female dips her head respectfully as she steps closer.

Despite her cordial words, her tone is curt and cold. Clipped, almost.

On closer inspection, I see a bruise marring the warrior’s cheek, the black and blue striking against her pale skin. Dried blood has just begun to crust in her hair.

“Cayetana,” Treyton breathes. “What happened?”

Cayetana pivots to regard her prince, her features and posture stiff. “We were following you across the Summer Court.” Her tone holds a hint of reproach, and I imagine she’s not happy that her charge left the crown’s armed regiment. “We were only a few hours away from the Forest when we were attacked.” Her eyes glaze over. “My mulino and I were both injured, but we managed to escape.” She swallows and then begins again. “The rest of the team didn’t.”

I glance at Treyton out of the corner of my eye as I ponder her words.

That must’ve been…a few dozen soldiers, minimum. All dead.

“Who took them out?” I demand, though I already know the answer.

The Day and Night forces, of course.

Fucking Draven and Sylvan.

Their cowardly fathers wouldn’t be stupid enough to start a war against the other four kingdoms. Only the princes have the ambition and drive for world domination.

Every fae knows that the Day and Night Courts are mirror images of each other. The only difference is their landscapes. Where the Night Court has the Moon Sea, the Day Court has a dry canyon. Where the Day Court has Mount Solis and Mount Audistio, the Night Court has deep trenches carved into the ground the exact distance down as the volcanos’ height.

Nobody knows exactly how it works—or the magic behind it—but most believe it’s because the only difference between day and night is the presence and absence of light.

Even their princes are eerily similar, at least in appearance. Draven has midnight-black hair and silvery eyes. Sylvan has blond hair and metallic-gray eyes. The two boys were close when they were children—practically brothers—and I imagine that was due to the close nature of their kingdoms.

Though, now that I think about it, aren’t all of the other courts made up of opposites? Spring and Fall. Summer and Winter.

Are they all just mirrors to each other as well?

“I don’t know who it was,” Cayetana says, drawing my attention back to her. “They didn’t wear any identifying markers or crests.”

“That doesn’t sound like Draven and Sylvan,” Treyton murmurs, frowning.

The Day and Night Princes much prefer to advertise their brutal slaughterings. They want the world to know just what they’re capable of.

Cayetana’s gaze flits over my shoulder momentarily, and she swallows. “Kassandra, is she…?”

“She’s alive. Safe,” I rush to reassure her, though I don’t know why.

When have I ever reassured anyone in my long, harrowing life? I don’t care about this female in the slightest, yet…

Kassandra does.

Fuck.

Cayetana looks relieved, and my respect for the warrior fae grows exponentially. Kassandra deserves the world. To know that she has one more fae who cares about her—one as formidable as Cayetana—brings me a modicum of peace.

“Can I see her?” Cayetana’s voice is clear and strident. Despite the blood continuously dripping down her face, her back remains straight, her posture immaculate.

“You can,” Treyton agrees, frowning. “But before you do, I need to tell you something you’re not going to like.”

Instantly, her brows draw together, and her lips tighten—one of the first cracks I’ve spotted so far in her mask. “And that is?”

“You can’t come with us.”

Cayetana’s head whips back as if she’s just been physically slapped. “For Gaia’s sake?—”

---