Page 144 of A Vow of Wrath and Ruin

“Do not be rash, my King,” Hopper said. “I know you want to save your beloved but acting out of emotion and not thinking things through could get her killed.”

Tharan took a deep breath and sat back in his chair.

“You’re right. There’s no use getting worked up.”

“I need you to keep your head on straight. Calliope is a slippery fish, and if you’re upset, she will rub salt into the wound.”

“Alright, alright.” Tharan threw up his hands in surrender.

34THARAN

Tharan’s fingersshook as he buttoned his expertly crafted pourpoint to the top of his chin, his mind a mix of anger and worry.

He brushed his long auburn hair before placing the golden antler crown atop his head. Kohl ringed his eyes, making them pop.

“Well, you look fierce,” Hopper said, leaning against the doorframe. His hair was tied back in a tight knot, and he wore his traditional emissary outfit of finely milled black wool with the golden seal of the Woodlands on the breast depicting the Alder Palace.

“That’s what I’m going for. This is my first meeting with Calliope, and I need to make a lasting impression.”

“You always make a lasting impression, my King.”

Tharan shook his head at his friend.

“You don’t have to blow smoke up my ass all the time.”

“Just some of the time.” Hopper adjusted the crown on his head and wiped any stray hairs from his coat.

“Where are we meeting Calliope?”

“At the docks. In a warehouse. She won’t venture far from water.”

Tharan rolled his eyes.

“Of course. Do we think she’ll bring Aelia and Baylis?”

“If she’s smart, she’ll have them nearby,” Hopper replied.

Tharan took a deep breath, trying to conceal his nerves, and headed down to the foyer where Amolie, Sumac, and four members of the Hunt waited.

Pausing at the top of the stairs, he cleared his throat.

“Hopper, Sumac, Amolie, and I will go into the warehouse alone. The Hunt will watch for trouble from the land.”

The stoic crew nodded.

Sumac twirled a knife between her fingers before sheathing it.

“Alright, let’s go. The queen of the Undersea is dangerous and cunning. Do not underestimate her,” Tharan said.

The party headed out into the night.

Tharan fiddled with his rings as he stared out the carriage’s window. The snow was melting, and the first inklings of spring were beginning to sprout. Ostara would be upon them soon enough. He would be expected to preside over the Woodlands festival and provide blessings to newlywed couples. Ostara meant new beginnings. Perhaps if he got Aelia back, they would have a binding ceremony of their own. He shook off the thought. It was foolish to think that way when she clearly had hesitations about marrying him.

The carriage came to a halt in front of an unremarkable warehouse. With its peeling paint and warped boards, it was hardly a place for a meeting of two royal houses, but neither was stupid enough to meet the other on their turf.

The smell of old fish wafted through the air, turning Tharan’s stomach. The Hunt took up a position at the front and sides while Amolie stood behind Tharan and the others, covered in shadow.

Sumac, Tharan, and Hopper walked to where the water lapped at the dock once used to unload goods meant for the Fates. In the distance, the Isle of Fate stood ominously bathed in moonlight. Tharan swallowed hard and touched the sword at his side, if only to remind himself it was there. A briny wind blew in through the open door, making him shiver.

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