Page 56 of Brutal Fae King
Chapter 18 - Ebelor
I have never seen a man run so fast in full armor.
And Vicmar does it whilst dragging me by the arm. As we sprint, my mind whirls:how did an army appear so quickly?! How did those watching out miss an entirearmyapproaching the castle?!
He keeps me close to his side as he runs through the castle, forcing my legs to paddle twice as hard as his as we run together. Sometimes, when we turn corners, he flies past them too fast for me to keep up, and he takes me into the air for a moment before I hit the ground again. Before long, we burst into the war room. At first, because of my servant instincts, I try to wait outside, but Vicmar pulls me in by his side.
I have never seen such a large group of military men on the edge of a screaming panic before. They shuffle and sweat, faces red, as they shout random orders at each other. Once Vicmar strides up to the head of the table, they straighten and quieten. The respect is palpable in the air, but it’s respect from fear.
Vicmar lets me go and gives me a look before he slams both hands down on the war table.
“Someone tell me, and tell mefast,howan entire army escaped every watchman!” he snarls across the room.
His voice carries, bouncing like a skipping stone off the table to a ricocheting silence. Suddenly, the war counselors don’t want to say a word.
Vicmar slams another fist into the table.
“TELL ME!” he roars.
One of the braver war counselors pipes up: “We don’t know, Sire! We are trying to figure it out and we can’t! None of our scouts in Murbyn Bridge spotted any armies approaching Eyston, and now… and now—”
“Well, give me some details!” Vicmar snaps back. “What is this army? Naga? Sirens?”
“They appear to be either humans or dark fae.”
I see the color drain from Vicmar’s face.
“Do you know what color their armor is?” he asks, a voice crack breaking his authoritative tone.
“Dark purple or black, we believe,” another says. “It has to be magical armor, Sire.”
Vicmar’s face is fully white now.
“It has to be him,” he says.
He says that one statement much quieter than any of the other things he’s said, but it somehow rings out louder than the rest of them. The entire room falls to piercing silence. But one by one, all the war counselors look to me.
Suddenly, I am under every one of their beaming gazes. Vicmar is the last one to look at me, and whilst his face is pinched up in a snarl, I can see the fear dancing in his eyes.
I hate to ask, especially in such a loud silence, but I have to:
“Who ishim?”
“Dralis,” Vicmar answers me immediately. “He’s the only one I can imagine who’s capable of materializing an army like this.”
My blood runs a little cold.
“The one working for Mischevil?” I ask.
“The same,” he says. “He’s got dangerous non-elemental powers—namely, the power to teleport. If he’s sourcing his power directly from a god, then he may be able to teleport an entire army. We’re lucky that the magical seals held firm enough that he wasn’t immediately on us.”
“But why is he here all of a sudden, Sire?” one of the war counselors asks.
Vicmar looks at me one more time and then says:
“Well, clearly, he has found the lost queen and wants her for himself.”
My throat closes. I swallow hard.
