Page 149 of A Reign of Roses
I had meant it earlier, when I’d said it was Arwen’s choice. I’d made enough mistakes trying to control Arwen, trying to control the outcome of every fate that plagued us. She was capable of making her own decisions. If she wanted to spare the kingdoms and give herself up, even if it meant going back to Solaris,shreddingme from the inside out, I would not stand in her way. “No, she…has to.”
Griffin’s head swiveled. “What?”
“I do?” Arwen asked, a bit of dismay spilling into her voice.
That sound, her voice when she was afraid, was worse than the shriek of a knife against porcelain. But I couldn’t explain just yet. Not when Lazarus would have access to all our minds. “Eardley, send a raven to Lazarus’s encampment. Tell him we have an offer.”
41
Kane
As we walked across theavenue that bisected the Fae encampment, I could almost hear the soldiers’ snarls. Hundreds of Amber and Garnet men were stationed at the fringes of the camp with their forges and tents, studying us, sizing us up, casting venomous glares, some more lecherous ones tossed at Arwen and Briar.
The thought crossed my mind that most of these witless toads hoped our ceasefire would not hold. They longed to slice and maim—their eyes told me as much.
And the silver-clad Fae, thousands of them, positioned closer to that looming, pallid gray tent at the center, packing snow-coated wagons with spears and supplies, rolling glass barrels of stolen glowing lighte…they studied us with even more loathing. True contempt. The fallen prince of Lumera—Lazarus’s volatile son.
Due now, for his penance.
And all of this, every crackling fire and lug of metal shields, constructed through the heart of the Shadow Woods.Myfucking woods.Icy, rageful fog drifted along my ankles, as if the woods themselves agreed, seeping out from the tree line and curling as we walked. I hoped at least one of these sorry pustules had been ravaged by a chimera or ogre just for taking up residence in their domain.
I might’ve felt the thrill of vengeance brimming in my bones. Might have relished how soon I’d rid my woods of the weasels they were teeming with.
But my plan was far from seamless.
The biggest strategic issue in any battle with my father was his ability to step inside your mind and study your schemes before you could enact them. It was safest if everyone walking behind me truly believed we were offering Arwen back to him in return for a ceasefire.
Even if Griffin knew me well enough to assume that with the blade in hand I’d never surrender my own wife. Or if Arwen wondered as much, too—knew how it would kill me to see her chained in lilium and brought back to Solaris.
But their doubts were safer than physical memories of a plan explained. That was what would dart to the front of anyone’s mind when told,Do not, under any circumstances, think of this conversation in his presence.
But that still left the blade.
I could only hope Lazarus would have no idea that the Blade of the Sun wasn’t safely locked up inside his palace anymore. Even if that were the case, he’d still likely search us.
Which was why Briar was the only one I’d told my intention to. She had lived in Solaris long enough, had spent enough years in court with the man, to know how to hide her thoughts from his prying lighte.
I’d asked her to spell the weapon. And when the moment came, the blade would reveal itself within my grasp.
The cloudless sky and beating afternoon sun had melted the top layer of snow even in the tree-covered woods, and our feet sloshed in unison as we approached. We came to a halt before the rounded, high-topped tent that rose well above the rest of the canvas lodgings, flanked by at least a dozen Fae soldiers.
Two silver-clad men approached and began the demeaning task of frisking us for weapons. Running their hands across our chests, waists, and pant legs.
“Easy there,” I growled at one stocky young Fae, staring daggers into his hand as it slid up Arwen’s thigh. The silver-plated soldiers outside the monstrous tent braced themselves. Some reached for weapons.
But when the young soldier’s face twisted up to mine from where he knelt, he had the good sense to cower from my glare. He continued his frisking on a lower section of Arwen’s leathers.
“They’re clear,” the nervous little pig called out to the tent. And it was true. The men had not felt a single lick of steel strapped to any of us. Even Lieutenant Eardley—the bravest mortal I’d ever known—strutted into the camp of Fae warriors without a weapon to his name.
Griffin entered the tent before me, and Eardley after him.
It was ice-cold, despite the sun permeating through the dark canvas and two roaring fires—one beside the broad topographical table that mapped Shadowhold and the surrounding woods and one beside the large down bed.
My father stood from a leather chair, setting down a book and removing his spectacles as if he were a tired parent of difficult offspring.
Briar strolled in behind me, and Arwen after her until we stood in a cluster before him. I sucked in a steadying, iron-laced breath. If everything we had worked toward for months went according toplan, I’d die in the next several minutes. If I knew it wouldn’t give us away, I would have pulled my gloves off, reached my hand for Arwen’s, and stroked the soft skin of her wrist one last time.
Without letting panic seep into my expression, I urged my mind free of anything related to our plot and shifted my thoughts to our impending loss, my fallen keep, fisting my hands tightly and releasing them.
