Page 190 of The War and Deceit Series omnibus

Pushing up from my seat, I ball my hands into fists so tight my nails bite into my palms, and I’m sure I’ve broken the skin, but I don’t care. A wave of something ripples from my body, and I swear the ground rumbles beneath us, but I know I must be imagining it. My wrist glows as I glare at the leader of the mountain tribes, my aunt. “Will someone explain what is going on and stop talking in circles?” Everyone is watching me with wide eyes, most of which are focused on my wrist, some even a little fearfully, all except Revna, who looks pleased.Have I just passed some sort of test?Anger stirs in my blood again as I open my mouth.

“Your mother, my sister, was the Queen of Arhaven.”

Her words hit me like a physical blow. “No.” Stumbling back, I fall into my chair, horrified by her words but knowing their truth.

“The king saw her on one of her trips to Arhaven and instantly desired her,” Revna explains, ignoring the shaking of my head. “He killed her husband, your father, ripped the memories from you and her with dark magic, put you into slavery, and married her.” There is no kindness in her voice, no delicacy in how she informs me how my father was murderedand my family was torn apart, but her eyes grieve. They grieve for the life I should have had with her in the mountains.

“No,” I whisper, remembering the evening where the two of us met in the dark courtyard. My mother. It felt like we had known each other, and she warned me. Did she know? Did some part of her know deep down that I was her daughter?

Why didn’t the king just have me killed? Why put me into slavery? Was it some sick power trip, knowing that his wife’s child from a previous marriage, who she doesn’t remember, is a slave? Did he know it was me when I was blessed by the Great Mother? Or was I just another nameless slave at that point? He always kept an eye on me, but I thought that was because Jacob had an interest in an ex-slave.

Jacob. Jacob is my half-brother… No, that can’t be right, he’s older than me, or at least around the same age as me, and the other princes are older than him. So unless my mother had been seeing the king while she had still been married to my father… Could that explain why she kept disappearing for long periods of time like Revna said? And how did he manage to wipe our memories?

I know more about who I am, yet I feel more lost than I ever have before.

Something moves in front of me, and as I focus back on the present, I see that Revna is now standing just a few paces from me. “We tried to find you. We have been trying to find you for years,” she assures me, and I see her hand flicker at her side like she wants to reach out and grasp mine. Her voice is low, so I know she’s talking just to me. “When he took my sister…I tried so hard to get you back.” A tremor of emotion enters her voice, her dark eyes looking into mine in earnest. “Do you believe me?”

Yes,I want to answer, and I’m about to when a tribesman runs into the tent, out of breath, and quickly makes a symbol over his chest. “Chief,” he says, but Revna is already moving,following him out of the tent with several of the other tribesmen on her heels. Frowning, I look at Vaeril, who is also now standing, staring into the distance with an odd look on his face. Naril is also wearing a strange expression, which makes me nervous.

“Clarissa,” Tor calls, and I spin to see him standing just behind me. He looks like he’s expecting me to punch him, which I’m half tempted to do with everything he kept from me, but I know he wasn’t able to tell me. However, I remember the comment I overheard before I entered the tent, and my body stiffens.

“You were searching for me, you’ll be made chief,” I state, waiting for him to contradict me, to tell me that I’m wrong, that I misunderstood. Except he doesn’t, he winces.I hate it when he winces.

“Possibly, but—” he starts, but that’s when Revna storms back into the tent. She looks furious, her eyes glowing, and I can hear the sound of running feet against stone.

“Everyone, get to your stations!” she orders, before her eyes land on me. There’s a sadness within her gaze that fills me with dread. “We’re under attack!”

Vaeril and Naril are suddenly surrounding me, taking defensive positions, and I realise what their distracted expressions were moments ago—they were obviously hearing something farther away with their fae hearing. With one crouched in front, and another protecting my back, they scan the tent for any immediate threats, their instincts going into high alert. Daggers drawn and teeth bared, they look feral. As my eyes run over my mate, although my heart is pounding inside my chest, that newly bonded part of me can’t help but admire his strength. I want to run my tongue along his—

“Now is not the time,Alina,” he chides as he continues his scan of the tent, and I realise I’ve been blasting my thoughts right down the bond.Mother above. Please tell me Grayson didn’t hear that,I pray, scolding myself for being inappropriate. Glancing over his shoulder, Vaeril runs his eyes over me as if reassuring himself that I’m okay, and he flashes me a quicksmile. “But if we live through this, remind me of those thoughts later.”

Revna is still in the tent and staring at me like she’s torn between duty and heart. Her gaze goes to my elves and then to Tor, hardening when she looks at my tribesman. “Tor, stay with my niece,” she commands, and something passes between them. “You know what you need to do.”

“Yes, Chief,” he replies, placing his closed fist to his chest and bowing his head in a show of respect.

With one last look at me, Revna turns and exits the tent, shouting directions as people run by.

There’s a moment of silence as we all pause, staring at each other. The only sounds are from outside, but it’s like they’re separate, muffled. The pounding of feet on hard ground, shouting, and noises from many people all gathered together doesn’t seem real in these precious few seconds where it’s just us.

The spell is broken when someone shouts just outside the tent. Tor blinks and strides over to us, looking down at me with a stern expression as he takes in my flimsy riding dress. Unlike Tor, I’m not dressed for battle. “Can you fight?”

Swallowing the sudden lump at the back of my throat, I nod. “I can defend myself hand-to-hand.”

This apparently isn’t the answer he was looking for, because his body tenses and he bounces on the balls of his feet. “Weapons?”

Eldrin and I had only just started training with weapons back at Galandell, and I was still working on my defensive training. It seemed like the best plan at the time, but I’m beginning to regret not learning any offensive weapons. “I’m okay with a staff.” My voice is tight, and I’m not too proud to say I’m afraid. Feeling my fear through the bond, Vaeril snarls, the low vibrations making the hair on my arms stand on end.

Tor groans and rubs his hands over his face, glancing over his shoulder at the tent entrance as another shout sounds. “That will have to do, come.” Gesturing for us to follow him, we leave the tent. As soon as we exit, Tor takes an immediate left into a smaller but no less opulent tent. We aren’t outside for long, but the whole atmosphere of the camp has changed.

“No one will get near her,” Vaeril growls, as he ushers me into the tent, Naril close behind. My eyes widen as I look around. It’s an armoury, but there are weapons here like I’ve never seen before—all shapes, sizes, colours, and materials.

“Agreed, but it’s better to be prepared,” Tor replies, as he strides farther into the tent. He heads straight to the back wall, examining a row of what look like spears. “We stick together,” he instructs, his tone leaving no room for argument. The elves nod in agreement. Pulling something from the wall, he walks over and holds it out to me. “Try this.”

I take the staff, surprised by how light it is. It looks like metal, but it’s far lighter than I was expecting. I’m used to fighting with plain wood, but this is much more ornate and decorative. Taking a few steps away from Tor, I give it a few swings, surprised by how easily I can move with it. I’ll have to adjust my fighting stance a little, but it’s a good length for me, not too long where it’s going to hit the ground, and light enough that I can use one hand if I need to. I’m certainly no expert, but this will give me a chance if I was separated from the others.

Tor’s watching me with approval, and when I look up, he smiles slightly. “Good, you have more skill than I expected, and the staff is a good fit.” Striding over to the huge table in the center of the tent, he picks up a large sword and sheath and straps it to his back.

“What a lovely compliment,” Naril comments, as he lovingly strokes the edge of an axe at the other end of the tent while slipping a jewelled dagger into his pocket.

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