Page 25 of The Red Woman and the White Bear

Kael gestured with his full cup. “It’s why I made you my captain, Raif. I would expect nothing less.”

Raif offered a tight-lipped nod of appreciation before he said, “Your soldiers are tired, Kael. The Solitary are cunning, and with Seelie warriors at their backs, I’m not sure how well they’ll fare.”

The Third Company was among the Unseelie Court’s most elite warriors—for Raif to be concerned about their performance was a very grave thing indeed.

Kael moved to his large desk and unrolled an ancient map of the realm. Reaching across the sheet, he slid over a jar to weigh down one stubborn, curling corner. The sudden movement sent the Luna moth contained inside into a frenzy and it beat its furry body against the glass in a desperate effort to escape its prison. It wouldn’t live but a few days more; the others from the eclipse had died quickly, their fragile wings already decaying into the soil ofthe night garden. Methild had caught this one for Kael, a gift as he prepared for Nocturne. She’d harbored a soft spot for the king since he was a boy.

He ran a long finger up the map to the northeast, where the Third Company awaited their orders on the far border of Lord Somrith’s Dominion of Nyctara. To the west, the Fifth Company was returning from securing the Dominion of Astraloris for the Unseelie Court. It had been an easy victory—they may yet have the strength for another battle. If they delayed their return, they could travel north and join the Third Company in a day. Their numbers would put them nearly even with that which the Seelies had amassed.

Watching over the king’s shoulder, it was as if Raif knew what he was thinking well before he said it out loud. “I’ll send word to Commander Eamon before I ride back.”

“I will ride with you.” Kael finished his drink then straightened up to his full height. It had been months since he’d seen battle, and his time sitting idle at court left a thirst growing in him that needed quenching.

Raif was openly apprehensive about travelling back with the entire royal caravan in tow. “Your offer is appreciated, Your Highness, but unnecessary.”

“I don’t believe I was asking for your permission, Raif,” Kael shot back at his friend. “I am not one to lead from afar. We’ll depart shortly with a small company and reach the front by nightfall. If Commander Eamon’s troops arrive in the night, all the better. We’llattack at dawn.”

Raif knew better than to question Kael further. An experienced warlord, each and every move the king plotted out on that timeworn map was calculated with near-expert precision. His consultations with Raif were a formality, at best. If he’d made up his mind, this would be the plan they’d execute.

The pair exited the study in opposite directions: Raif, to send the king’s message to Commander Eamon; Kael, to prepare for the ride to Nyctara. His leathers and armor were cleaned and polished, ready as always for his retrieval. The leathers he would wear for the ride. The black armor, though light as a feather, would remain packed until it was time to fight. He sent for Werryn, who took one look at Kael’s battle-ready costume and the longsword that hung from his hip and nodded solemnly.

“Have you need of me, My Lord?” The High Prelate asked.

“You’ll join my company. We leave for the front at Nyctara presently.” His words were clipped, but the excitement that underlined them was unmistakable. His hand already itched to palm the hilt of the sword and his magic was clawing at his lungs for freedom.

“And the girl?”

Kael thought for a moment. It would be an opportunity to test the human’s limits, to see whether what happened in The Cut had been a chance occurrence or something greater. Either way, his company would be one body lighter on the return ride. Inside the cage of his ribs, his shadows roiled in response. “Might as well,” he replied dismissively. “Seems a shame to waste a perfectly good tether.”

“Shall we make her walk?” Werryn sneered. Though the image of her tied behind a horse tripping barefoot all the way to their camp brought a smirk to Kael’s lips, he shook his head.

“She would only slow us down. Ensure that she is bound properly and assign her a rider.”

Not once had the High Prelate thought to offer a tether for battle before. During combat was the only time that Kael was free to set loose his magic to its fullest extent, consequences be damned. So Werryn was suspicious—perhaps Kael hadn’t hidden the incident as well as he’d thought. But come morning, it wouldn’t make a bit of difference.

The king’s tent stood amidst the sprawling encampment, a solitary dark island in a sea of white canvas. Inside, lanterns hung from cording to light the space. The glow they cast danced wildly as gusts of wind slipped through the tent flaps. The heavy scent of leather and metal filled the air as Kael, with determined precision, fastened on the last plate of his black armor.

Aisling’s presence at Werryn’s side was an unsettling disruption to his preparations. They stood silent in the corner of the tent, yet to see her there was an anomaly amidst the battle-hardened warriors who filtered in and out around them. Kael had done his best to ignore her since they entered quietly minutes before, but dawn was fastapproaching.

Without a word, Kael clasped a gauntleted hand around Aisling’s upper arm in an iron grip and dragged her out of the tent towards the battlefront where his warriors stood already in formation. She stumbled on numb feet over each step. The tide of battle was drawing closer, the pounding footsteps of the enemy soldiers echoing in the air. This girl tripping alongside him was a puzzle piece that Kael wasn’t sure how to fit into the coming chaos.

Finally, he halted her, positioning her to face him with her back to the distant front where the Seelie and Solitary soldiers were filing into line. She shivered there in front of him in that thin white shift she’d been dressed in for the ritual. It was filthy now, and she was weak and pale from her time in the dungeon. Kael’s hold on her arm remained tight and unyielding as his gaze darted to the approaching enemy. Adrenaline surged through his veins when a low horn sounded from behind him, a notice that time was slipping through his fingers like sand.

Kael had hoped, perhaps against reason, that he could find some way to use the power she held over his magic to his advantage. But now, staring down the distant line as they broke into a run, he knew he couldn’t afford to rely on chance. The enemy was too many, they were coming too fast, and here Kael stood idly with his charge. Something in the sight of the tips of oncoming spears and swords over her trembling shoulders compelled Kael to toss her aside to where the High Prelate stood ready to call to his shadows in service of the Low One. Maybe there was a way to harness that connection again, but now wasn’t the time to explore it. The battleground was no place for experiments or doubts.

“Take her,” he ordered harshly. He didn’t have time to waste trying to use her. The girl’s stumbling form seemed to move in slow motion when he cast her aside into Werryn’s grasp, and Kael’s gleaming sword was drawn in an instant as the deafening sound of metal against metal commenced on all sides.

Bitter-scented bloodlust charged the air around him as Kael led the offensive toward the far line. His keen eyes quickly parsed through the fray—the Seelies rode on horseback, while the Solitary Fae battled on foot, most wearing too-big armor. They were fierce, but disorganized. Though it would have been a hard-won victory had the Fifth Company not joined, most of these approaching faeries were not fighters. Even from this distance, he could feel the churning dread that rose in their throats the moment they saw the cast of his pewter tresses against black armor. Kael’s wrath was known to have been the ruin of entire villages. Scores had fallen to the sharp edge of his blade, and more still to those insidious, snaking shadows that poured from him when they grew so large, coiled in his chest, that he could no longer carry them inside.

His sword was a blur of deadly precision as he cut a path to the center of the field. Raif and two others moved with him, flanking him to the left and right. The ground trembled with the weight of their footsteps and the clash of arms echoed like thunder in the king’s ears while he looked for an opening in the violent dance. A pause, just the length of a breath, was all he needed to strip off his gauntlets and bring forth a fury of shadows that surged from his skin. They carved an arc around him and sent a trio of Solitary bodies dropping to the ground in aninstant.

Kael’s shadows swirled around him, weaving between sparring pairs and tearing through the enemy line. They were opaque, and strong. As savage as their master. In battle, Kael and his shadows shared a common goal: destruction.

A Solitary sidhe, wreathed in silver and wielding a pale blade, engaged Kael in a bid to draw his attention. Their meeting sent shocks of power through the air, visible as shimmering waves of energy warping the breeze. Kael’s shadows fought against the sidhe’s radiant light with an explosive collision that cracked the earth beneath their feet. A long thread of darkness wrapped around the being’s throat and tightened until it sliced clean through the skin, no longer so luminous in death.

But suddenly, he felt it: the tether. His shadows had locked onto something grounding and calm. Kael jerked his head to the left where Werryn had gathered the girl up onto his horse and was clutching her in front of him, presenting her like an offering. Her face was beset by terror and pain as tendrils wound up her legs.

And the Unseelie King was filled with an anger so great and choking that he could scarcely breathe.

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