Page 88 of A Crown this Cold and Heavy

He flicked his gaze to me. “No.”

Demos tensed. Obviously, he’d also caught the hesitation before the word.

“Was he hurt?” I hissed.

“We found their horses, Herne,” someone called. “Just the two of them.”

Herne nodded. “Why are you here?” he asked. His refusal to answer that question made it very clear. Tibris had been hurt. And from the way Demos’s eyes had darkened, he was well aware of that fact too.

“I told you. My sister wanted to communicate with you. And for some insane reason, you decided to provoke the hybrid heir by taking her brother. You should be thanking the gods that I’m here instead of her. Of the two of us, I’m the calm, reasonable one.”

I fought to keep my expression neutral. Demos was most definitely not “calm or reasonable” when someone he cared about was in danger.

“We don’t need to communicate with the hybrid heir or anyone else.”

Demos raked him with a contemptuous glance. “War is coming, and you’ve managed to position your little camp in the most dangerous place possible.”

Herne’s eyes flared at little camp. Demos was incredibly strategic. He was attempting to enrage the rebels for a reason, although I couldn’t understand exactly what that reason was.

“Explain,” Herne ground out.

Demos smiled. “Gladly.” His smile dropped, and his eyes turned icy. “Your position along the fae border is going to be critical for Regner’s attack. It’s why the Gromalian king is humiliated by his failure to kill all of you. Regner has been moving his regiments south, while Eryndan is likely attempting to negotiate how much of the fae lands he’ll be able to take for himself if they’re successful in their plans.”

“They’ll never take the fae lands.”

“No.” Demos shook his head. “There are creatures there that would kill an entire regiment without blinking. But they could kill my people in our own camp. They could kill thousands of fae and rape their land of magic and resources. Ultimately, if you want to die, that’s your choice. But you won’t take Tibris with you. Where. Is. He?”

Someone gasped. One of the men who’d first approached us dropped his weapon and stepped back. Herne’s face drained of color.

There was only one reason for a reaction like that.

Vynthar stalked out of the forest, his curved horns gleaming in the sunlight.

“What is that?”

“He’s a Drakoryx,” Demos said. “The hybrid queen considers him a friend.”

Vynthar showed his teeth. It was either a threat or his version of a smile.Either way, everyone flinched.

“I suggest you show us where Tibris is,” Demos said. The amusement in his voice was so faint, I had a feeling I was the only one who heard it. Well, me and the Drakoryx who’d glanced over his shoulder at Demos.

“I’ll take them,” a voice rang out.

A woman stepped into the center of the camp. She moved with a kind of feline grace, almost as if she were—

Fae. She wore her human glamour, but I’d spent enough time with Lorian and the others to recognize the way she moved. My eyes narrowed, but Demos slid me a warning look.

I wrestled with the urge to slap him. Of course I wouldn’t say anything.

Herne nodded, and at the gesture, the people surrounding us stepped back, sheathing their weapons.

“Fine,” he said. “You will see him, and then you will leave.”

Both of us ignored that. Herne truly seemed to think we would leave this place without Tibris.

The woman led us down one of the paths, toward the far end of their camp. I hadn’t been able to see this far from our tree, so I paid careful attention to the tents, which increased in size as we moved closer to the river.

“What is your name?” I asked.

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