Page 117 of The Blood Crown

The night was frigid as Ven’s shadows dispersed around her, blocking the worst of the biting wind as he cast them to the patch of forest just outside of the wards.

Around them, the darkened canopy of pines were dusted with snow, the space eerily hushed from the Allokin’s barrier of spells that had been put in place to hide the host of Wraiths and soldiers from view.

Nira’s voice carried over the crowd as she shouted commands, and Aurelia caught the familiar flash of auburn as Asher stepped forward, Seth, a shadow beside him.

Before them was the shimmering portal.

Asher’s steps were cautious as he approached, but determination glimmered in the green of his eyes as he removed a blade from his gear, slicing his palm and placing it on the quicksilver surface.

The Capitol had been thrown into chaos.

Dark plumes of shadow hit the ground of the courtyard, scattering the blue cloaks nearby as they ran to take up their positions atop the wall. Men, women, and children from the Capitol were already pouring through the gates.

“Halt!”

A tall figure pushed through the crowd.

“Asher—” Wellan uttered, disbelief written across her oldest brother’s face—a murmur rising through the ranks of the Blue Guard. “Aurelia?” His green eyes studied her face, the shadowskin, his golden brows furrowing.

And then his gaze lifted to the male beside her, the Wraiths behind them.

Wellan's eyes narrowed, his voice low as he took a hesitant step back. “Youdo not belong here.”

Aurelia stepped forward. “I can explain who they are—”

“I know exactlywhatthey are,” Wellan uttered, hatred lacing his words, fear glimmering in his eyes. “Old Ones,” he spat the name like a curse.

The blue cloaks surrounding him raised their blades, the bitter tang of terror permeating the air between them.

The look of shock was evident on their faces, and yet Wellan seemed to have expected this . . .

“You knew?” Aurelia whispered, betrayal hardening her words.

“Of course I know,” he bit out, his eyes never leaving Ven, “as every Councilor knows when they take their family’s seat.”

“But father—” Asher pushed.

“Warned us,” Wellan supplied, finally tearing his eyes away from Ven to look at her. “And we’ve been preparing since.” His gaze traveled the length of her boots, snagging on the gleaming blades strapped to her body, along the dark gear she wore. Wellan’s expression was one she remembered clearly—one she’d seen thousands of times as his younger sister.

Disdain. Disappointment.

Nira stepped beside her, Seth angling himself between their oldest brother and Asher—noting the threat in Wellan’s words.

Aurelia straightened her spine, her voice unwavering as she said, “These aremypeople—and we’ve come to offer help.” No longer Wellan's little sister. No longer just the daughter of a powerful family. She was a leader. An equal.

Shock widened her brother's green eyes, and maybe it was the panic around them, the realization that they needed all the help they could get—and Wellan was pragmatic above all else. But his expression softened just a fraction as his gaze lifted to her face once more. And he said with something that sounded like relief, “It’s good to see you, Ari.”

Every torch in the Capitol blazed high above their heads, the sounds of shouts and muffled screams from far off at the edges of the city.

Blue cloaks were ushering in panicked people by the dozens. Trying to round up as many as possible and get them safely behind the gates. The Wraiths' appearance had been noticed immediately, but they’d been deemed allies as they walked the perimeter atop the palace walls with Asher and Wellan.

Asher had been gone for months, but his men clasped his arm in warm greeting as they murmured their relief at seeing him again. She could only guess where they thought he’d gone and what to make of his return, but at least they welcomed them now.

The Wraiths received wary looks as they stalked the top of the wall; she’d gotten so used to them that she forgot how they appeared to everyone else. Standing a good six inches taller than most of the men, and solid walls of muscle.

None of them were sure what to make of Nira, but they knew well enough to keep their thoughts to themselves as she shouted orders to the Wraiths and dispatched them at intervals between the blue cloaks.

The night hid most of the defining features of the Blood Folk and the Allokin that had joined their ranks. The blue-grey skin of Prince Agius’ archers could almost pass for pale porcelain in the moonlight, and the deep red eyes of the Blood Folk were no more than rich brown. But Valea—with her milk white skin and her moonstone hair—there was no confusing her for anything other than an immortal.

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