Page 71 of Fortress of Blood and Power

“Then we will just have to manage. I never thought I’d say this, but thankfully, we only have a few days left to keep our secrets.” Aspen studied Garrick thoughtfully. “As for tonight...Ren and I could take advantage of this time to plan, unless you were ordered to remain here?”

Garrick sank his hands into his trouser pockets. “No, I was not.” I could see the reluctance painted across his face, even if he knew—probably better than Aspen or me—how important it was for him not to know every detail of our plans.

Crossing over to me, he grasped my face in his hands again, drew a deep breath, opened his mouth, and...shook his head. Without a word, he slipped from the room. I gritted my teeth, a mingling sense of desperation and loss coiled in my chest. Was he holding back the words I hoped he was? Did he worry they were futile, impossible?

Aspen’s dark eyes darted between Garrick’s retreating form as he closed the door and back to me. “We will win,” shepromised, and I wasn’t sure if she was saying that to comfort me and give me hope for Garrick and me, or to refocus my thoughts on our mission.

Aspen had an entire kingdom to save. And while I didn’t want to see anyone suffer needlessly either—while I longed to do what was right—the reason I ached for a victory, for freedom, was for the chance at a future with Garrick. Or, if he didn’t want me, at least to see him also free and happy.

Settling on the bed, Aspen sighed. In a blink, she was her usual pixie size, relaxing cross-legged on the coverlet. I settled beside her, already feeling blessed relief from the pain-numbing salve she’d massaged into the wounds across my back. “Will they cover the Stormclaw mark?” I asked, gesturing vaguely toward my back.

When Aspen shook her head, her curls bounced around her shoulders. “I’m afraid not.”

I shrugged. “Then we can use it to our advantage.”

Aspen tilted her head to one side. “How so?”

“At the ball, the night before winter solstice, I can wear a dress with a low-cut back,” I mused. “Anyone present who is questioning their loyalty to the king and queen can see what they did to me, a Silverfrost by blood. And I suppose the claw marks will also be a reminder of what I’ve survived while facing demons.”

Aspen’s lips curled into a slow smile. “I like it. But do you think you can convince the seamstresses to make a ballgown to your specifications? They’re to come to your room tomorrow to measure you and have you try on fabrics. I assume Preston and Nerissa already gave them instructions about the sort of attire you’re supposed to wear.” She rolled her eyes.

“Back home,” I said, studying my hands, “I made my own dresses. Our human fashions are much simpler than the dresses fae wear—I would never have been caught wearing a dress thatexposed my back at home—” -a soft laugh escaped my lips, an ache tugging on my heart for a place that would never be home again- “but surely, I could make a ballgown fit for the Silverfrost court. I would use finer fabrics.”

Aspen tapped her chin thoughtfully. “I suppose they’d assume you’d want to wear something simple and human-looking. I can’t think of a reason why they’d refuse you.”

“I have great plans for it,” I said, my excitement mounting.

Aspen tossed me a sidelong glance, but didn’t press for details. “This would be perfect,” she mused. “I’ll speak with them, ask if I can be your escort into Northelm to purchase fabric. I’m sure they’ll send Garrick along too. They’ll order him to not let you escape. But this provides a chance for you to visit the wounded while we’re there. There are rebels there already, tending to our injured. It’ll be an opportunity to bolster their confidence in you, while also letting the wounded soldiers see what a better leader you would make. A way to draw even more to our side.” She fidgeted with the ties of her bag, its size now proportionate to hers. “As for the ball itself, we have been planning to make a move then...”

She launched into the details her rebel group had planned out. A lot of our success would rely not only on our growing numbers, but also on the hope that my powers would be at full strength then, enough to combat the might of the siblings’ death magic. If my magic wasn’t ready then, the resistance could turn into a bloodbath.

“During the ball, you’ll act normal. Drink more wine and let your scars be seen—if those actions sway more toward our cause, we may gain additional numbers when the fighting ensues. And watch and wait for the signal. Of course,” Aspen finished, “everything could change at a moments’ notice. Scouts are reporting that the Ashwood forces are pressing ever closer. Ifwe’re dealing with a foreign invasion by then, we may have other problems to worry about.”

“What if I’m not ready?” I asked. “Would you wait?” I bit my lip. While I had the looming deadline of the morning after solstice threatening me—the idea of binding myself to Preston in marriage made my stomach curdle—the rebels had no such restriction.

“Unfortunately, we cannot wait. There’s something I haven’t told you,” Aspen said, her brow furrowing. “In Silverfrost, marriage works a bit differently than it does in the mortal world. It’s a requirement among royals that magical power is exchanged through blood. I fear Preston hopes to not only use you as a pawn and figurehead, but also to steal your power. And if he does? If he can seal the door to the underworld himself? I wouldn’t be surprised if he also killed you on your wedding night.”

I sat back, stunned. I had no choice but to be ready in only a few days.

Aspen stood, walking across the bed to set a small hand on my arm. “And you’re already drawing on your magic, Ren. I believe in you. You’ll be ready. You’remeantto be our queen. You can’t fail.”

After a reminder to rest, she bid me goodnight, shifting again into her larger form to more efficiently walk the castle halls.

“Be safe,” I murmured, thinking of the demons who’d attacked Garrick and me not long ago.

Aspen smiled, withdrawing a dagger from a sheath at her thigh, tucked beneath her dress. “I’m as prepared as I can be, but considering there was already one attack tonight, it’s unlikely more will slip out until tomorrow.”

As she left, I settled back in bed, pulling the covers up and trying to settle my whirling mind. But when I slipped into dreams, I was plagued with memories of Preston’s sharpfeatures as he stood before me, pretending to lick my blood off his finger.

My heart pounded with anticipation as Aspen, Garrick, and I trotted into Northelm under the watery light of late morning. Nerissa had given Aspen her approval to take me to select fabrics, and according to the pixie, had laughed and waved her hand carelessly at my “human desire to make a mockery of myself.”

Remembering that now as we rode along the main city street, women, men, and children stopping to bow or curtsey in respect when they saw me, I couldn’t help the smug smile that danced across my lips. Little did Nerissa know that I’d be making a mockery ofher.

I waved as the people bowed, nodding and smiling my thanks at their recognition. It was impossible to tell how many truly respected me and how many only displayed outward signs of submission because they feared repercussions if word got back that King Preston’s future consort had been insulted. All I could hope was that more fae than not would want to join our side when they attended the ball.

Still, it was an encouraging sight. Between their warm welcome, last night’s success with my magic, and my wounds feeling significantly improved after Aspen’s ministrations both yesterday and early this morning, my spirits were hopeful. Our hoped-for coup feltpossible.

“This way,” Aspen murmured, pointing down a side street from where she lounged between my horse’s ears. I led my mount in the direction the pixie had indicated.

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