It could be tonight. An unwanted storm of ravens rushed through my stomach at the thought.
“Right. I won’t sleep, just in case,” she said with a nod. “And if you start mumbling about anything, I’ll wake you up. That way, they won’t hear anything important.”
I sat hard on the bed beside her and tipped my head toward hers. “That’s not fair to you.”
“We’re in this together, you and I.” She cast a quick glance over my shoulder as the guards started toward us, likely seeing our actions as suspect. “Tell him about the mists. Find out if he has a plan. I don’t want to trust him, but…”
“He might be our only way out of here.”
Eight
Kalen
Istrode along the battlements with Niamh and Alastair on either side. The storm fae army beyond the wall had grown in number over the past several days, and it was becoming increasingly clear that this would end in a bloody battle. Every attempt to negotiate had gone down in flames.
“There still aren’t enough storm fae to breach the walls,” Niamh said as we moved past a cluster of archers standing in wait. “They may be waiting for more of their army before they make a move.”
“How many elite fae do they have?” I asked.
Alastair shrugged. “Honestly, it’s hard to say. They could have ten, or they could have a hundred. Queen Tatiana has been so secretive over the decades that we know very little about the force of her army.”
I sighed and tipped back my head. The mists obscured the stars this night, as they did most. It had been so long since I’d been able to spend an evening tucked away on the battlements, memorizing the constellations. Everyone blamed me for bringing ruin upon us all—which was true—but what few understood was that I’d destroyed my own happiness too. I missed the starlight. If only I could control the mists, I’d send them away.
“Then we should move forward expecting an attack from a hundred elite storm fae, just in case. They could bring down this wall if they blasted their enormous strength at it.”
“I think that probably means they don’t have a hundred.” Niamh paced, rubbing the bottom edge of the scar on her face. She always did that when she was itching for a fight. “Or they would have done it already.”
“Now is not the time for this.” I gripped the stone edge and leaned out into the mists. “This battle is a fucking distraction and nothing more. I need to get to Albyria.”
Niamh and Alastair exchanged a glance.
“Don’t,” I warned them both. “I know what you’re thinking, and you need to keep those bloody thoughts to yourself.”
“It’s just…” Alastair couldn’t help himself. He grinned. “You seem awfully worried about the girl who tried to kill you.”
“Oberon is winning. He’s marrying her soon, and then he’ll bind his forces with the storm fae. The whole damned world should be worried.”
“Right, Kal.” Niamh patted me on the shoulder. “That’s the only reason you’re worried.”
“Of course it is. If it was anything more than that, I’d be an idiot.”
“Well,” Alastair chuckled, “at least you said it and not me.”
A low growl rumbled in the back of my throat. “I don’t have time for this. I—”
And that was when I felt it. A familiar voice calling in the back of my mind, tugging me toward her dreams. Stiffening, I stared out at the growing storm fae army. In the past, I’d always answered her call, but I couldn’t any longer. Things had changed irrevocably between us, and the truth was like the gaping Great Rift that stood between me and the Kingdom of Light. We could never breach it. She was Tessa Baran. And I was the bloody Mist King. We could never be allies, and we could never be friends.
Let alone anything more.
“I know that look,” Alastair said quietly. “Go on then. See what she wants.”
Furrowing my brow, I glanced at him. “You would have me go to her, even after everything she’s done?”
“It’s like you said. Oberon’s got her. We don’t want that. So maybe by talking to her, you can find a way to get her away from him again.”
“She doesn’t want me to help her. I killed her father.”
“She’s calling for you, Kal,” Niamh said with a sad smile. “Go see what she wants.”