Page 157 of Revealing Fate

Chapter 55

PROPOSAL

FELÍNE RUSHED AFTER KAL, DODGING hurried Meressians as the city mobilized. It wasn’t chaos. There were no worried cries or terrified citizens blindly seeking safety. No, this was more unnerving than a panicked tumult. It was a collective, organized rally of able bodies. Every person had a purpose, a clear directive, and they pursued whatever it was with undeterred focus.

He trained them well, Felíne thought as she wove between bodies. This was why Lucien had been so threatened by Kal’s involvement. He’d accomplished more here to marshal these people than all of the Conclave combined. Any man or woman capable of battle had donned armor and weapons as soon as the warning of her father’s envoy had spread through the wood. Defenses were prepared. Those not trained for combat had undertaken other tasks. Stocking infirmaries. Cooking food. Securing children. Reinforcing fortifications.

Vorak’s words rang through her ears, clanging in her skull. King Domitan Faelstrom is coming.

He knew. He knew she was here. The certainty of it was like a lead ball dropping into the pit of her stomach.

Kal passed the armory. The open-faced structure was crowded with people waiting for swords, a fresh cache of thick-shafted arrows, spears, and knives. The smiths inside had the forge roaring, and the clanging of metal weaponry sounded like a warning toll.

“Kal,” Felíne called.

He didn’t slow.

“Kalevar! Damn you, wait.” She broke into a jog.

When they reached the stable, Kal finally stopped to bark a command at one of the stable hands, who promptly ran off to saddle Sig. Kal turned to her then, and the calm in his expression unsettled her more than if he’d been frenzied with fury.

“Kal, would you stop for ten seconds and tell me what you’re thinking?” Felíne struggled to catch her breath.

“I’m calculating.”

“Calculating what?”

“How best to kill the king.”

Felíne’s brain activity momentarily shorted out. The way he said it made her insides go cold. His declaration spread through her chest like frost creeping along a pane of glass. She knew Kal wanted Domitan dead. She knew the King of Asteros had orchestrated the murder of his parents. That he’d upended Kal’s childhood, changed the course of Kal’s entire life. But grappling with the imminent possibility of her father dying at the hands of the man she loved was…appalling.

Before she could formulate a response, Adder arrived. He wordlessly handed Kal leather armor, which Kal donned without preamble. The proud sea creature with a roaring lion’s head, which served as his family’s crest, stamped the oiled chest plate. Kal pulled bracers onto his forearms and tightened them in place. They’d been embossed with roiling waves. Twin custom short swords were sheathed across his back. A moment later, the stable hand emerged from the barn leading Sig.

Felíne’s heart tumbled painfully behind her rib cage.

Sig’s handsome roan hide had been fitted with bronzed plates of armor that gleamed against his flecked red and white coat. A thin plate covered his broad forehead and the bridge of his long nose. A dancing golden flame was etched into the plate, directly between his wide, excited eyes. He looked every bit a war horse eager for battle. It made her want to cry.

Kal sheathed a final blade along his calf and swung into the saddle. He looked at Adder. “Keep her safe.”

Adder fisted his right hand over his chest and bowed slightly.

“What? No. Kal!” He couldn’t leave her behind. They needed to talk about this. He was riding off to kill her father. Panic clawed into her. What if something happened to him? What if he succeeded?

Felíne lurched forward, reaching for Sig’s reins, but Adder grabbed her about the waist, holding her back. Kal settled the weight of his gaze on her once more, his eyes conveying something she didn’t understand, before Sig wheeled with a snort and took off at a canter.

Felíne was nauseated with worry as she waited. She’d expected Adder to take her back to Kal’s cabin. Instead, they’d joined Santhe at Beulah’s home bakery, where the Porter daughters were busy cranking out loaves of bread to distribute in case of a blockade or urgent evacuation. Penn had gone to help his father with the Stillwater defenses.

Santhe found her sitting on the front stoop, zipping the worn gold coin along her necklace. It was a wonder the chain hadn’t snapped by now. Felíne remembered Kal recovering the stolen necklace from a young pickpocket when they’d first arrived in Cindamar. He’d read her name engraved into one side, thought it said feline, and nicknamed her Kitty.

“Demanding, temperamentally unpredictable little beasts,” he’d said. “Just as likely to sink their claws into you as to crave your affection.”

Damn her, she was not going to cry right now.

“Here,” Santhe said, joining her on the step. She pushed a cup of steaming tea into Felíne’s numb hands.

Felíne mumbled her thanks.

They sat for some time, listening to the sounds of the forest city as it finalized its preparations.