Page 18 of Brutal Fae King
“A shame,” I note. “But we couldn’t allow the Naga to cultivate their forces there. If they had taken over a significant number of territories in Murbyn Bridge, they would have been able to cut off all supplies—or worse, used their venom to poison our supplies. They could have massacred the entire population of Eyston, and especially us here in Eyston Keep, without ever having to slither an inch into the walls of our city.”
I stand from the war table and begin pacing back and forth. They murmur again.
“And what of the island?” I ask. “What is our soldier’s progress there?”
“They’re still traveling, Sire,” a different war counselor answers. “They shall be there in approximately two days, should nothing happen to offset our plans.”
“Excellent,” I answer. “How is the remainder of the battlefield? Any change there?”
“No, Sire. The dwarves continue to fall back, and the sirens continue to circle—they don’t seem aware of our forces heading to their island yet,” one counselor says.
“Very well,” I say. “If that is all, then you are all dismissed.”
Many of the war counselors breathe a sigh of relief and stand from their chairs. Amongst the scuffling, Gargamint glares at me across the room. I just know this is bad from the intensity burning in his eyes. As the other war counselors leave, I wait by the door until all of them have filed out. Once the last one has left, I close the door behind them and turn to him.
“What is it?!” I demand.
“There was a development on the battlefield,” he says in a low, burning tone. “My elite team spotted some signs of non-elemental magic.”
Cold drips down my spine like a slow droplet of ice sliding down my skin. For a moment, my clenched teeth won’t let words slip through.
“Are you sure?” I ask.
“No mistaking it. There were craters all throughout the battlefield,” Gargamint says, then lowers his voice even more and asks. “Sire… is ithim?”
I turn away from my war chieftain—just needing to break his gaze for a moment.
“It… very well may be,” I say quietly. “What was he doing?”
“Not sure,” he answers. “He kept himself out of sight; no one else reported any sight of him, but there is no mistaking those craters.”
I grunt loudly before turning back to Gargamint: “I refuse to believe for a single, solitary moment that in the same timeframe, we find the woman of prophecy,hecomes back—and it’s all a massive coincidence!”
My war chieftain bows his head.
“We need to ensure that he doesn’t get near her,” I snarl. “That has become paramount. Forget the Naga, forget the sirens, forget everything—wemustkeep him away from her. The moment he claims her, Faevea falls. Every scrap of our resources must be put into keeping her away from him!”
“Understood, Sire,” Gargamint replies. “We can take more guards and post them around her. She will be guarded around the clock.”
I grunt a little. I pace back and forth again.
“You don’t seem reassured at all, Sire,” Gargamint comments.
“I still worry,” I confess. “It may not be enough to keep him away. There is little that stone walls, iron bars, and armed guards can do against a teleporter…”
“What do we do then, Sire?” he asks.
“I don’t know. That’s the issue. We need to find a way to magically ward the keep,” I say. “But warding against a teleporter is no easy feat… and we have no mages up to the task.”
Gargamint knows better than to interrupt my thoughts. I pace back and forth.
The only person who could possibly try to ward him off would be me… but that is the problem—I’m not able to keep that kind of magic when I’m needed here, in charge of Faevea…
For the sake of Faevea, I need to keep the potential usurper away from him.
She’s mine,a voice in my head suddenly snaps,he doesn’tgetto touch my things!
The thought is sharp and passes in a moment. I suddenly know what I am to do.
