Page 51 of The Crown of a Fallen Queen
“The leaders of the rebellion wear a throng of Mist jewels that amplify their power. They might prove incredibly hard to kill,” Elio says. “Diplomacy could save thousands of lives.”
His status as the King of Death, combined with the strategic placement of his realm, positions him as a key leader in this matter. Which, judging by the grimace on his father’s face, annoys the older Fae to no end.
I stand up, breaking up the bickering. “Do you have a map of the continent?”
Elio walks over to the stacks, pulls out a scroll tube from the bookshelf tucked between the turrets windows, and hands it over.
I unroll the map across the table in the center, pinning its corners with whatever I can grab. The ink is faded, and the cartographer made a few mistakes, but I know this coastline by heart.
“Without using the sceawere, there are only two ways to travel from Wintermere to Zepharion,” I say, tapping the border. “By foot, you have to cross the Uaithe, the bolt-shaped chasm that separates the Frozen Hills from the Lightning Point province. The official crossing is here.” I point to the Fenrall bridge. “Reinforced. Guarded by watchtowers and too many eyes. If the Tidecallers have taken control of Storm’s End, they’ll be expecting Elio to send his army there. But” —I slide my finger north, to where the land splinters and twists— “the Deiltine crossing hasn’t been used in centuries. There’s no gates. No walls. Just a sky that keeps exploding and a dilapidated road leading into the city.”
“Deiltine is a dump,” Ethan grunts. “And a deadly one at that.”
I ignore him and continue with my exposé. “The people who live there are mostly caretakers for the Aeolians, the giant turbines that power the factories, the forges, and everything else. We send our best engineers, technicians, and machinists in on rotations.”
I pick up a square-shaped receptacle that holds one of the cameras they use to broadcast the Yule Pageant. “All modern electrical-based technology built in Faerie—the projectors, the screens, etc., are powered by capacitors made in those factories.”
I move to the coastline, tapping the map again. “Our only other option is by boat. We could sail from Taiga through the Deiltine channel, but the winds and tides here” —I trace the eastern coastline— “are tricky. Even if we’re lucky, it’ll take us a week, maybe more, to reach the port of Zepharion.”
Freya clicks her tongue. “Not to mention the capital’s port is bound to be well-guarded.”
“Why would Deiltine even be an option, when it’s still eons away from the capital?" Elio asks.
“The city was considered a strategic hub—being so close to Wintermere and exposed to a sea attack. My father needed a way to reach it quickly, so he used his influence over the previous Shadow King and got him to build an obsidian passage.”
Damian shakes his head. “All obsidian passages are listed in the Shadowlands archives.”
I’m only too glad to be the one to tell him his precious archives are not foolproof. “Not this one, and it emerges directly in the Storm King’s study.”
Elio’s eyes widen. “So breaking into Deiltine could lead us directly to Luther’s chambers?”
I flash my audience a confident grin. “New recruits arrive at the plant every week. I could pass for a technician and access the passage.”
My mother nods gently at me, the way you smile at a helpful kid—or a particularly bright dog. “Thank you, son. We will discuss this further and let you know our decision.”
Ethan Lightbringer cocks his head to the side, studying me like a bird of prey studies a mouse. “Wait a minute. Seth hasn’t yet told us what he wants in return? If he succeeds, what does he expect from us?”
You can always count on the most villainous man in the room to iron out the nitty gritty.
“I want Devi Eros to be pardoned. We’re engaged.”
The King of Light’s jaw sets in a hard line, his top lip curled up like I’m a worthless bum who just asked for his daughter's hand.
The horror on my mother’s face would bother me if I had any hope of ever making my last remaining parent proud, but that ship sailed long before I set my sights on the woman she hates the most.
Elio’s frown deepens, and the ice around the door melts. “Thank you, Seth. Please wait in the hall.” He shoos me out with a disgusted grimace.
A fresh wave of frost seals the room behind me as I exit, shutting me out and cutting off any chance of eavesdropping. I pace the hallway, restless. The way my mother addressed me in front of everyone sits like an anchor in my gut. No matter how hard I try, she never takes me seriously. She didn’t take my betrothal to Devi seriously at first—just chalked it up to another act of rebellion. But I’m not a teenager anymore.
Luther’s words echo in my mind:Too dark for the Light crowd, and too much of an extrovert to keep to the shadows. I should be a chameleon, able to move between both worlds with ease. Instead, I’m a contradiction. Not a prince. Not a commoner. Not even a proper bastard. Just the afterthought of a scandal, with enough magic to matter, yet not enough to rule.
Well, I’m going to marry Devi Eros and inherit my mother’s crown, and when I do, they won’t be able to shut the door on me anymore.
Elio returns before I’ve settled my thoughts, his expression unreadable. He rubs ice off his neck like he’s dusting off fleas, looking more like the Elio I used to know. Keeping company of your enemies does that to a man. It freezes the heart.
“The seven crowns want you to infiltrate the Storm Court and serve as a go-between,” he announces. “It’s a dangerous gig. Being a messenger between two parties at war means getting caught in the middle.”
“A go-between?” I echo.
