Page 20 of Spring Guardians & Songbirds

“Having the time of her life in the dungeons. Besides what is down there, no one sees much of her anymore.”

I knew my old council’s fate, but my blood still grew cold thinking of what she might be doing to them.

“She has Murdoc locked down there, too,” Nia said quietly, and a sense of uneasiness rose over me. There was something far more sinister between her and that priest than what she’d told me, I was sure of it.

“Are you supposed to be telling us all this?” Mal asked.

“Yes. Not the last part though.” She stood and brushed her grey leathers. “She sent me to get you. For lunch.”

I raised my brows. “Are we eating my councillors?”

She scowled. “Don’t give her ideas.”

“Wait a damn moment,” Mal said. “You’re just going to go to her?”

I stood and so did Nia. “She could well kill me sitting right here, brother. And I miss her to death, so to answer your question, yes, I am going to see her.” The thought made me smile and my smile seemed to make my brother frown with incredulity.

“She actually wants to see both of you,” Nia said.

Mal waved a hand in the air. “Not dressed for the occasion of slaughter. If I am to meet the guillotine, I ought to put a pair of pearls around my neck first.”

Nia rolled her eyes and grabbed both of our arms with no warning.

Not a fraction of a second later, she’d faded the both of us to Olympia.

My eyes took a minute to adjust. We were standing at the top of the tallest building I’d ever stood on and one so close to the sky I could feel the clouds and electricity between my fingers. Breath-taking, figuratively and literally. The air was thin enough that it took me a few breaths to adjust to its density. Mountains surrounded the dark castle from all sides, tall and towering, creating shadows over the valleys. The full faces of the mountain littered in buildings and movement despite the height and the tilted slope. Olympia was a canvas of green, grey and flashing white.

“Fuck,” my brother grunted, shaking his head from the dizziness of our surroundings.

“Taren, the capital of Olympia,” Nia explained, taking in on our confusion.

It still felt unbelievable—the old kingdom of skies lived.

The floor beneath our feet was of a glittering obsidian and so were the walls of the high towers surrounding us. “How? I thought this place was extinct after the zgahna took over the Volants and Olympians moved to Myrdur.”

Nia directed us past the terrace we stood on, toward a pair of spiralling stairs that showed the whole face of the almost glassy black castle. “Olympia has manipulated the realm through millennia, dressing their history in lies to protect their lands. The mist is protection, it gives no harm to the land or the people. It is a layer of protection and life. Taren was rebuilt eighteen years ago. Myrdur was just a tribe, millions more lived inside the mist. Exactly twelve more tribes. Those now form the council of the kingdom, Snow’s court.”

Mal lingered a few steps behind us, spinning and touching everything that came in his line of sight. “What’s with the leathers and the glassy swords?”

Nia pointed to a window framing angry skies. “It’s not glass, it’s whitestone. A mineral mined in Eredyn, the mountains struck most by lightning. Metal attracts lightning and our skies thunder during the day and night. The only person who wears metal is Snow.”

“The thunderbird,” Mal murmured, and Nia winced.

Guards loitered every corner of the windowless castle, all staring ahead and not paying mind to anyone passing by them—their attention deadly on their duty.

We halted in front of a dark corridor lit by blue light pointing to a pair of massive black wooden doors.

Nia wrapped a hand around my wrist, stopping me from pulling the knob. “Remember, the Snow you knew from Isjord was a role. All of us were a role. If you thought her cruel then I’d be cautious now.”

The moment the doors swung open, my gaze searched for her, and I almost sighed in relief at her sight. She stood by a tall window, staring emptily ahead, obsidian hair plaited to the side, revealing that creamy neck that I once bruised with my mouth. Dressed in a grey floating dress that swirled around her torso and fell loose to her feet, she looked like every dream of mine. Perfect. But so far from my reach no matter how much I ran.

I still couldn't trust my senses. I needed to touch her. Feel her skin over my own. Inhale her. Make sure I hadn’t gotten sick enough to imagine all this.

“Son,” a groggy male voice called. I’d glued my attention to her so that all around me had become fog. It took me a moment to focus on the faces sitting around the massive dining table. All of them were chained to their seats and wearing the mask of a corpse. “Kilian,” Stregor called again, shifting toward me in his chair.

“That is twice that you’ve spoken without permission,” Snow said, taking a seat at the head of the table. “Do it again and it will be without the benefit of a tongue.”

Gods, how I’d missed that voice.