Chapter 33
“An attack?”Eldas repeats, looking somewhat dazed. I have whiplash as well from the sudden shift in conversation.
“Before we sat to eat, I sent out riders. I was worried. They met with mother in her coach just outside of Westwatch. But Harrow wasn’t with her. She said he’d wanted to stop in Carron before coming here and she couldn’t say no—of course not, not to her darling Harrow. So she let him go. His horse and guard were found gutted just outside of Carron. There’s no sign of Harrow.”
“Carron, why was he—”
“Aria,” I stop Eldas. “He went to see Aria perform. She mentioned to me that she was performing in Carron with the Troupe of Masks as the start of performances leading up to the Coronation.” I look between the two men. “How far is Carron?”
“It’s up the wall, an hour from Westwatch,” Drestin answers.
“Let’s go.”
“You should stay here,” Eldas says firmly.
“I’m coming,” I insist with such force that I can almost hear it echoing in their thick skulls. “You two will need me.”
Drestin glances between Eldas and me, eyebrows arched with a somewhat surprised look. Rinni might be familiar with Eldas’s and my comfortable rapport. But it seems Drestin is not yet. “Your Majesty—”
I ignore his surprise and wave off his objection. “Is there a gate to the fae lands in Carron?”
“No,” Eldas answers.
“No way to cross the wall?” I press.
“No,” Eldas repeats.
“Well…” his brother starts, earning an arched brow from Eldas. “There were reports of places where the wall has been weakened. Farmers talking, spreading rumors of fae getting through. But I’ve yet to confirm…”
My mind is moving as fast as my frantic hands. While the men speak, I finish off the potion I was making and jar it, placing it in a leather satchel I steal off of a peg by the doors out to the gardens. I leave them for a moment to search the gardens for anything fresh I might need for magic or emergency healing.
Unfortunately, I can’t find any heartroot. It seems Willow’s early mention of the plant being incredibly rare holds true.
“Luella, stay—” Eldas tries to say as I reenter the laboratory.
“I already told you both, I’m coming.” I stare both elves in their cerulean eyes, trying to communicate with my wide, planted stance alone that this isn’t a negotiation. “I have information you may need.”
“What could that possibly be?” Drestin asks.
“We’re wasting time, just trust me.” I look to Eldas. “Please.”
He gives a small nod and holds out his hand. “To Carron.”
My fingers close around Eldas’s. Together, we step into the dark mist that rises from underneath Eldas’s feet. We Fadewalk to a muddy road a short walk away from a town about the size of Capton. Drestin emerges from a plume of mist at our side. Dark swirls whorl in the air for just a moment before dissipating on the wind and leaving a man where they once were.
Carron is snug against the wall, just as Drestin said. Much like Westwatch, there’s a bridge that crosses this thinner span of river. If I were a fae looking to sneak something into the elves’ territory, this would certainly be the place I’d try and do it.
In the fields to the far right of town, tents have been erected. They glow from within, their colors shining like candy in the glittering darkness that follows in the night after rain. Flags made small by distance flutter in the nighttime breeze. We can hear cheers faintly across the fields.
“Go and investigate the Troupe of Masks,” Eldas commands his brother. “Look for any signs of foul play there.”
“And you?”
“I’m going to the scene of the crime.” Eldas doesn’t wait for Drestin to respond; we’re already moving through the Fade again.
We emerge a little bit down the road at a scene of butchery. One horse has been flayed open, its entrails spilled out. Its rider—a guard whose face I don’t recognize, but wears the city armor of Quinnar—has been ripped nearly in half.
“Wolves?” I ask, noting the claw marks.