Page 68 of Fae Reckoning

Silence reigned.

Eventually Ivar said, “And all this time … you were alive and she was taking your power for herself. Which means … by dragon’s blood, it probably means she figured out the way to heal you and just never told us.”

“Or that yer sister was never sick at all.” The point was gruff but clear, made by the goblin Edsel. “The queen coulda been poisonin’ her all along, then pretendin’ to heal her when she mighta just been holdin’ back the poison.”

“In tactical warfare,” Ryder said, “an enemy in your midst secretly creates a problem, then offers the solution to that problem to become your ally.”

I regarded Larissa. She looked from me to Edsel to Lisbeth and back to me. When she spoke, her voice quaked. “Is it possible then that I’m not really sick? That I’m not going to die?”

“By the whole of the Etherlands,” I said, “I don’t know. But we’ll ride a dragon’s back through the very Igneuslands if we have to until we find out.”

22.THE LOST PRINCESSES OF EMBERMERE

RUSH

I should have been paying attention as Ivar continued speaking. So long as the queen lived, none of us were safe. Regardless, the voices of my companions didn’t penetrate the daze of shock that held me in its grip. All I could think was how the three females I loved most in this cursed world were here with me—alive and safe.

I’d feared my beloved might be lost to me forever, and now she stood with her body pressed to mine. The bonded beastly part of me had ceased its constant fighting to reach her, longing now only to be closer, always closer. Ramana was miraculously alive, a gift, it seemed, from the Etherlands itself. And Larissa … was it actually possible that the queen might have tricked my family so thoroughly that we’d believed my baby sister was sick when she was no such thing? Might Larissa truly live a whole and healthy life for many centuries to come?

El went suddenly rigid, yanking my attention to thepresent. I scanned the clearing we occupied while I drew Ivar’s cutlass. It only remained sheathed for short minutes before I needed it again. The male was still the queen’s advisor, after all. No matter what he claimed, he was dangerous. He’d proven so many times over the years.

The smooth glide of steel being unsheathed sliced the air: my brothers responding to the threat. El guided Saffron to her back, drew the dagger from my borrowed weapons belt since she had none of her own, and leaned onto the balls of her feet. Xeno’s hands drifted to the hem of his shirt to draw it over his head, presumably to undress in preparation for a change. Roan smacked the handle of his ax against the palm of his hand, and Reed nocked an arrow into his bow. The others crouched around the recovering fae on the ground.

Gazes darted into the woods surrounding us, a few up at the huge black dragon blocking the sun, but no one looked at Ivar, who stood protectively over Lisbeth.

“What is it, Rush?” El asked me in a hurried clip. “Did you hear something?”

I studied Bolt. He and Ivar’s steed had moved to stand beside Azariah and the ranucu. My horse was first to sense danger. He was steady. The forest, however, was too silent, devoid of the usual chirps and rustles.

“You tensed,” I told Elowyn. My mate’s senses were as attuned as my own to danger. I scanned the clearing another time. Beyond the partially demolishedcabin, it was still only just us—a whole lot of us, so many to protect.

She smiled compassionately and slipped my dagger into the waistband of her leathers, against the small of her back. Her eyes brimmed with understanding as they met mine. “You didn’t hear what Ivar said, did you?”

Around us, others began to relax too.

“No, I suppose I didn’t,” I admitted. “What happened?” I spun to cast accusation Ivar’s way.

Ivar appeared as dazed as I felt. A mixture of wonder and betrayal warred with each other across his thin face. His eyes were heavy with exhaustion, making him appear several hundred years older than he was.

I faced my mate. “What’d he say?”

Elowyn took my hand. My skin warmed with awareness—she was the one I’d longed for since before I recognized the yearning for what it was. She led me toward the fae laid in rows on the ground. Aside from the male who’d perished, these three were the frailest of those who remained. Their eye sockets were sunken, casting deep shadows over haunted eyes. Their faces were emaciated to the point that it was all too easy to picture the skulls framing their parchment-thin skin. Beneath their matching nightgowns, their bodies were equally skeletal. Had their chests not been rising and falling—ever so slowly—I would have guessed them dead.

“Who are they?” I asked. One of them, hair and eyes as pale as Ryder’s now that the red glow of thequeen’s possession was rapidly fading, dragged her attention over to me, where it stayed. She opened her mouth but no sound came out.

Ivar stood and took a step toward us. My hand moved back to the cutlass to rest menacingly against its pommel. Ivar either didn’t notice or didn’t care as he gazed down at the three fae singled out from the rest. With a sharp chin, he gestured at the one staring at me.

“That is Zelia Izara Adelina.” He pointed to another with eyes and hair as pale as their skin. “That is Inaya Eliana Cantara.” He bent next to the final one, her hair as dark as Elowyn’s. “And this is Nazira Fiorella Belina, the youngest of them all.”

Ivar rose to face me. His nostrils flared. His eyes hardened to stone. “Otherwise known as the lost princesses of Embermere.”

23.I WILL FOLLOW YOU ANYWHERE, MY QUEEN, EVEN TO THE VERY BELLY OF THE BEAST

RUSH

Dusk was creeping in, and with it came a foreboding I couldn’t shake. It crouched along my shoulders without reprieve like Saffron crawled over El’s. Though the darkness consuming the forest was natural, I recognized danger in each whisper of a leaf and in every snapping twig. My fingers rarely left the cutlass’ grip for long, and then only to touch Elowyn and reassure myself of her safety.

Save Xeno, who kept watch somewhere up in a tree, the rest of us huddled near each other, crowded in a haphazard circle around the recuperating fae. Even the black dragon’s neck was craned low to be part of our group. There was a slight chill to the cooling day but we didn’t light a fire. As soon as we decided on our next move, we’d be leaving. No one suggested delay. We all seemed to sense that we were running out of time, as if the queen’s executioner hid behind tree trunks, biding his time, growing weary of the wait.

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