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Ruslan’s face spun and my eyelids fluttered as I tried to process all this information. Everything I thought I knew about the world, about myself, was completely upended in the span of a day. I no longer knew which way was up or down, only that I was spinning out of control, on a collision course with the Fates and the Goddess who deemed my life to be the center of this choice of light and dark.
I needed to lie down.
Whether Ruslan sensed my wavering consciousness or my thoughts were said aloud, he swooped me into his arms, my head lolling back as he carried me to a lavish tent steps away from the roaring fire. Ducking inside, he placed me gently on a fur-lined pallet in the center of the space. My teeth chattered uncontrollably, and Ruslan piled additional blankets on top of me, tucking them up under my chin. When my body stopped shaking, he fetched more water, supporting my head as he brought the lip of the canteen to my lips.
“Drink,” he pleaded, voice cracking over the word. I obliged, too overwhelmed to argue. After a few quick sips, I turned my head away, and he gently released me to the floor. When I closedmy eyes to the world around me, my stomach churned with the dizzying motion that hadn’t left my head.
I prayed for a deep sleep where I could forget about Night and Iron, Angels and Demons, and a Dragon that was getting way too close for comfort. The Goddess must have heard my plea, because not a breath later, I was unconscious in a massive tent that still did not have enough space for all the questions that buzzed like an angered beehive in my head.
4
By the time I finally exited the council room, all bodies of the dead lined the hallway outside the ballroom. Too many Night Fae, young and old, lined the wall – and not enough Iron Fae. Viktor and Endre trailed a few steps behind me as I searched the bodies for our fallen friends and family. I spotted Tibor, Endre’s father, and Erik, Viktor’s father, sitting near the body of my father, both heavily bandaged but alive. Erik’s good arm lifted in a wave, beckoning us toward them.
“How did it go, son?” Erik asked Viktor.
“Valintin and Luzak are on the outs. The rest of the houses aligned with us. I backed them into a corner they couldn’t escape from, and now they have all accepted Izidora as queen,” he smirked.
“Really?” Tibor looked stunned.
“Really. And High Lord Jaku asked that the traditional war council be expanded to allow him to join,” Endre added.
As the fathers and sons conversed, the heaviness in my heart became unbearable. My father’s lifeless body was covered in a white shroud with the black sigil of House Vaszoly splayedacross it. The crescent moon, surrounded by a smattering of stars, frowned at me, mirroring my own expression. Stepping around Tibor and Erik, I crouched at his covered feet, bowing my head and allowing the chilling loss to spread through my limbs. My father, my mentor, the last bit of my family… gone. Never again would I hear his voice, take his council, or fly through the skies with him.
We’d worked so hard, for nothing.
King Zalan had known, for the past twenty-one years, exactly where his daughter was. Of all the fucked up games he played around the court, this was by far the worst.
If Izidora hadn’t killed him, I would have. His body lay only a few paces away, and I nearly shot to his corpse and stabbed him again, if only to relieve a whisper of this rage heating my chest like a white-hot fire.
Silence fell behind my back as my friends joined me in my grief.
“Your father was a good man. He will be greatly missed.” Tibor clasped my shoulder, lending me what little strength he held in his injured body.
I ran a hand over my face, exhaustion seeping into my bones. I hadn’t slept, hadn’t eaten, and I desperately needed a break from the desolation that crowded out every other feeling in my heart.
But I hadn’t seen the other bodies yet.
“The rest are a little further down.” Tibor motioned to where the bodies of our friends lay.
Pushing to my feet under the heaviness of what felt like a thousand hands pressing me down, I trudged with Endre and Viktor to three bodies covered in white sheets stamped with black swords. Sorrow swelled from deep within my chest, robbing me of breath as we stopped in front of them. A choked sob wracked Endre’s chest, and I pulled him into me, hisbreath rasping as Viktor knelt to reveal the faces of our fallen friends.
Kriztof, Zekari, and Kirigin’s bloodied and lifeless bodies lay side by side on the cold marble floor. Viktor inhaled sharply, hands trembling as he tried to rein in his agony, while my eyes burned and Endre fell to his knees. His dark, unkempt hair fell into his face, concealing his pained expression that no doubt mirrored my own. Viktor closed his eyes, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as he straightened.
I allowed the salty wetness to wash away the blood that stained my face, for Kriztof’s last act was to stand up for Izidora and me with an attempted assassination of King Zalan. He deserved my tears and more. Kriztof lay with an unfurrowed brow, a soft smile playing across his bloodless lips, joining his father in death, both executed for speaking the truth.
Zekari and Kirigin were far too young to die. They had been with the Nighthounds the shortest amount of time, but I would never forget the laughs we shared, the jokes they played, or how they risked their lives time and time again for what was right. We found their bodies among those of over a dozen of Iron Fae who lay dead or dying. The twins fought fiercely to the end, despite the deep gouges marking their young skin, evidence of the iron-tipped whips that had rained down on them.
The bruised faces of the twins brought me to my knees beside Endre, and a moment later another pair of leather boots appeared through my blurred vision. Vadim’s head was bowed, his thick locks messily tied up in a bun, though many pieces fell across his face. He placed a hand on Viktor’s shoulder, as he tried to remain strong for the rest of us, but the barest shake of his chest betrayed his true feelings.
Half our group, gone in one night.
None of us had been prepared for chaos to erupt. Vadim never went anywhere without his daggers, but the rest of uswere barely armed, either with decorative weapons or our magic. There was no armor at the feast, with all Fae dressed in their finest clothes, meant to impress and not defend. The Iron Fae bastard struck when he knew we were most vulnerable.
I planned to tear Ruslan to pieces with my bare hands, slowly carve the flesh from his bones, then flay him alive to rip out his still beating heart. Maybe then he would understand the pain I suffered when he ripped Izidora away from me.
Pure, unbridled fury dried the wetness that covered my cheeks and sent heat creeping up my spine until it surrounded my neck. I swallowed my grief like a bitter potion, then pushed to my feet. It was my time to lead the Nighthounds, and these males would follow me to the ends of the continent. The three looked to me expectantly as we hung on the precipice of the words they knew would spill from my lips, my first official order.
“Let’s go get my mate,” I commanded.
