Page 236 of The Edge of Darkness

Without breaking her concentration, Maeson snorted. “I wish.”

Niall turned to me and reached into his pocket in space, withdrawing my sword and scabbard. “I must inform the council before I call the armies to war, so get ready to meet them.”

I stared at my weapon as he handed it to me. “How did you⁠—”

“Never mind that right now. Take it. It’s a statement of authority.”

“A sword? Not a crown?”

He lifted a brow and reached back into his magical hideout. “If you prefer your crown, I’m happy to⁠—”

“No, thank you. This will do just fine.” I strapped the weapon around my waist, happy to feel its familiar weight settle against my hip.

He offered me his hand, and when Remic gripped onto both our shoulders, we ported.

I expected to arrive in the war room where we always met, with its wooden table and the stately banners I’d become familiar with. Instead, we materialized outside a set of grand doors, twice the size of the males standing next to me. The wood creaked as the doors opened on a silent command, and the chamber beyond revealed itself.

Giant orbs circled above in a slow procession, illuminating the vast space. The chamber was enormous—cave-like. The ceiling that towered high above came to a point in the center, making me think we were actually near the top of the mountain. We could have been, for all I knew. I wasn’t sure, and I didn’t ask, but I did know for certain that I’d been here before.

Somehow, in some dream, I’d seen this place.

In the center was a large, round table, carved with a decorative inlay of what looked to be Calledan’s territory. Around it, stood a group of unfamiliar fae. Their conversation paused as Niall and I entered, followed by Aremis, Roirdan, and Remic.

I noted everyone’s stare, and traced it right to the sword at my hip. They straightened at the sight of it. Niall was right about the show of authority.

The twelve fae—some of whom wore armor, others who donned long robes and more traditional garb—bowed when we reached the table.

“Thank you for coming on such urgent notice,” Niall said, his voice echoing in the cavernous room.

“Is everything all right, My Lord?” one of the fae asked. It was the same male who had spoken up at our mating ceremony—an older-looking fae with graying hair.

“No, it is not. We need to prepare for war.”

The atmosphere in the room shifted.

“War?” the same fae repeated.

“Yes. We have received a first-hand account of Lyceius’s forces, and confirmation of certain things that have happened and are about to happen.”

Roirdan motioned for one of the armored fae to come forward. The male obeyed, spreading a large map across the table. A few others nearby reached to place small paperweights on the edges.

Niall put two fists on the table as he leaned over the oversized rendering of Anbrya, complete with intricate details of each mountain, valley, river, and coastal configuration. “The other High Lords, with the exception of Killian, already have orders to move at a moment’s notice. I want Calledan’s forces to set up camp in the mountains by nightfall tomorrow. Here”—he pointed—“and here, in the northernmost valley.”

“Why does Killian not have these orders?” another fae asked.

“Because he is in Salterra, with Lyceius.” Niall lifted his eyes, meeting each of the pairs that stared back at him in shock. “Killian has sided with the fallen god. After his little outburst at my mating ceremony, he abandoned Elandrew and went north.” Several voices rose, but Niall lifted his hand to silence them. “I’ve left his cousin in charge of the woodlands, for now. What they decide to do as far as leadership after the war is up to them. Our main focus lies in The Wastelands. Lyceius has another deity at his side now. She is not of this world, and she is powerful⁠—”

“Another deity?” a female council member interrupted. “What do you mean?”

“This is the first we’ve heard of such a thing,” someone else stated.

“Why has the council not been briefed on this development?” another called out.

“Silence!” Niall shouted, his voice shaking the walls.

Everyone flinched. Even I sucked in a breath at his tone. A glance down at his fists revealed shadowfire seeping out across the table.

“Niall . . .” I placed my hand on his.