Page 240 of The Edge of Darkness

“If these wards have no hold on her, then we need to make sure she doesn’t tear through the front lines during the war. If she makes it into Calledan, or anywhere else . . .”

Niall didn’t reply. He knew just as well as I did what that would mean. When he finally did speak, his tone was full of malice. “This was a warning—retaliation for Folquin getting caught.”

“Her power followed him? How could she or Lyceius even have known where he was?”

“They are gods. Their capabilities surpass that of our comprehension.”

His reply weighed heavily on me. Very rarely had I ever felt a sense of overwhelm or inadequacy. But in that moment, those feelings were seeping in and spreading so quickly through my gut that I thought I might vomit.

No. I could not let them take root. I refused to even allow doubt to creep in, because if I did, it would jeopardize everything we were fighting for.

My power was enough. And Niall’s, alongside it, would give it the edge it needed. Just as the prophecy foretold.

Staring at the dark mass that marred the horizon, I knew the time had finally come. There was no more anticipation. Whether we were ready or not, we were on the cusp of everything unfolding, and the enemy was not waiting for us to deduce tactics and formulate plans.

The enemy was here.

Niall’s shadows stirred, swirling to life around us and whipping at the air like they were chomping at the bit. My power rose up as well, gathering itself in a fury. A willing answer to a call to war.

A few house-fae were injured from the attack, and Maeson’s fox, Wrynn, suffered a hurt paw, but all injuries were minor, and no deaths occurred. While the main areas within the mountain didn’t sustain too much damage, there was still enough to warrant an entire structural assessment, since the mountain had been thoroughly rattled.

The rest of Calledan had not been directly affected, but the warning was felt in nearly every fae territory. From what we’d learned, the shadows had also found their way into the northernmost borders of Drastia, Vahrenhall, and Elandrew. The attacks had barely made it into their borders, but the High Lords felt the sinister presence, and the intrusion left its mark like a stain of darkness, turning fields and foliage into withered husks.

The brunt of it had been aimed right at us, right where Folquin had ported back to. Right where Lyceius and Skadi now knew their prizes were being kept.

The spy had apologized repeatedly all evening, cursing himself for not having gathered his wits enough to think to port to an outpost first, just in case someone or something had followed him. Niall assured him that he wasn’t angry with him, and that he needed to stop beating himself up for it, but Folquin was persistent, and practically begged, at one point, for us to let him make it right. Maeson spent the majority of the night mending his wound. She insisted that he continue to rest, but he was intent on porting to the queen the moment his skin had closed up. Not only did we want confirmation of whether or not the human realm had also been hit, but Niall had wanted the queen at the war meeting that would be taking place between all the High Lords tomorrow.

So Folquin went to fetch Corinne, while official missives were sent to each court, summoning the armies to move at once.

We assumed that, though Skadi had sent her shadows as a warning, she could not use them to the extent she wanted. If her journey to this world was anything like Torin’s, it would have required much of her power reserve. Perhaps that was why she was using the blood oath to Lyceius—to gain back power she had lost. She would be a fool to use a significant amount of power before the war. What transpired was an outburst, not the full force.

She and Lyceius were saving what they had for battle.

And so were we.

Overnight, the armies of Calledan and Vahrenhall readied and moved.

The lower elevations of Calledan’s dark mountains were strewn with gray tents as far as the eye could see. Each connecting valley held hundreds more, winding deep into the court’s territory. Dreki flew overhead, their riders shouting commands as they moved the horde closer to the front lines in anticipation of the days to come. The other territories’ battalions would set up on the east and western stretches of the main valley as they arrived.

The command tent was situated midway through the camp, easily accessible, so that the chain of command could be quickly summoned for consults and strategy meetings. A Calledanian guard held back the flap as we approached. He saluted Niall by rapping a closed fist against his own black leather chestplate. Niall gave a curt nod in response.

We entered the tent and were instantly met with intense conversation.

The room was large enough to host at least two dozen high-ranking officials around the long, wooden table in the center, and still had enough space for bystanders to listen at the edges of the enclosure. Fires were lit in several metal basins, casting plenty of light to combat the approaching nightfall.

At the opposite end of the table, Roirdan was standing, arms crossed, wearing a frown and a tight-fitted leather vest atop his bare chest. The two males with whom he conversed were the same fae who had been with us in The Keep during the attack. In addition to their black armor, they each donned a black, one-shouldered cloak over their left shoulder, with gold markings at the top—something I hadn’t seen on many other soldiers. Their black leathers beneath were also slightly different, with the necklines rising higher up their throat, like Remic’s did.

Captains, I assumed.

Nivelle stood at Roirdan’s side, listening intently. To their left, Aremis, Remic, and Maeson conversed with a female I didn’t know. Probably another skilled healer, judging by the prominent satchel slung across her shoulders and the pouches that hung from her belt. Silas and Laurent stood with the human queen and Folquin, opposite the table from Morah, Fallon, Breck, and Vanir—all of them engaging with other officials and a few members of Niall’s council.

Everyone noticed our presence, and the room quieted. Roirdan snagged a long roll of parchment from a trunk next to one of the tent’s centermost poles, and stepped up to the table. Aremis took one end of the parchment, and he and the commander spread open the oversized map for all to see.

“First things first,” Roirdan began. “We’re here.” He stabbed a finger to the area of small circles that had been drawn with charcoal at the base of the mountain . . . pointing out the obvious. Morah snorted, and I couldn’t hide my laugh either. Across the table, Laurent chuckled, while Remic shook his head, hiding his grin like he always did. Roirdan’s humor was appreciated in times like these, when we all felt a little closer to tipping over the edge and tumbling headfirst into a sea of our worries and responsibilities.

“Now, there’s been movement here . . .” Roirdan moved his finger back to the north-central area of Salterra, then to the east, toward Elandrew. “And here.”

Vanir stepped forward. “I have more ground units moving out of Vahrenhall as we speak; they’ll be here by midday tomorrow. A few of my generals are on their way to Elandrew to help Breck secure Killian’s army.”