Page 282 of Spring Guardians & Songbirds

The meeting room doors swung open, the two Adriatian guards breathed heavily. “Highwall—the beast is reaching Highwall.”

Pulling my hood and veil up, I backed toward the balcony. “Signal for Amaris to take cover. Meet you two at the towers.” Then I bolted right before the massive metallic gates sealing us to safety.

Soldiers poured from the steps all rushing toward me.

“My queen,” they bowed in unison. “Three units are approaching south, about a dozen each.”

Three units?

“Send someone to Kirkwall and alert Sebastian to delay them as much as he can,” I ordered, still confused. What was father hoping to do with three dozen men? Tickle me till I surrendered?

A soldier stepped forward. “We did, my queen. Half an hour ago when our spies sent news of their approach. They couldn’t find the Kirkwall Lord anywhere.”

Was Bash back in Olympia? “What about Albius, have you sent someone to notify him?”

The same soldier nodded. “No news from Albius either.”

Something was up. Every sense in my body hummed with anticipation. A strange magnetic pull was itching me toward the gates, like I was being lured to fall for a trap.

Soldiers rushed from all over, taking position on the terrace, their bows aimed down.

Nesrin brushed past us with one of her squadrons and shot me a strange look, her mouth curving upward as she strutted all grace, leading her soldiers further down south of the wall. Why was she all chirpy for?

“Gather everyone down here—armed,” I ordered and then bolted to the roof of a tower overlooking the Zone of Peace gates.

From beyond our border, a thick storm of frost was raging over the winter lands of Krig, blurring details and hiding any movements. Though nothing was visible, I felt the heartbeats, more than three dozen of them, and then…that creeping sense brushed my fingertips like a breeze.

He was close. Demir…no, Vas was close.

A spark of red light flickered beside me, before a portal drew open from which Visha and Oryn came out from.

Visha bowed her head. “Snow—”

“Red Coven has a second and a third for a reason,” I said, interrupting her. “Macaria will take your mother’s position till she returns to it. You will not be forced to claim that spot. Not for her sake, not for the babe’s sake. That is on your mother and Melanthe. We are all making our fates, Visha. It’s difficult to stick to instructions when they are all wrong.”

“It is my duty.”

“Your duties changed when you took oath under my rule. When I promised that I would shield you from your fate. Are you telling me to break my oath?”

She took a full breath and I saw relief settle in her features. “Thank you.”

Oryn stood overlooking the distance behind the Highwall. “They come to bargain,” he said gravely. “Careful.”

The young general waved a hand up at us and flashed his pearly whites. “Come down here, Your Majesty,” he shouted. “We’ve got a lot to discuss.”

I turned to Visha and Oryn. Swallowing the crippling anxiousness that crawled from dark pits of memory I said, “Father is never this confident. Father never negotiates. I never negotiate—never with him. If I give an order, whether to die or to let me die, both of you obey without question. Understood?”

Both nodded and descended the Highwall tower toward the gates alongside me.

Wearing the face I always wore before danger, I ordered the gates open—my smile sturdy, my gaze unwavering. Two of the strongest Crafters in this realm stood beside me while the heavy metal gates groaned as soldiers pulled them open for us to go through the Zone of Peace.

Demir and a visibly pregnant Melanthe stood right where Visha’s veil cut off. The Crafter studied the magic with a frown while Demir traced a finger over the invisible layer. Both were glazed in a thick coat of magic—protection magic. Were they that scared?

Melanthe almost bumped on the veil when she spotted who stood beside me. “Visha?”

“Aunt,” my Crafter said boredly.

Demir fashioned an exaggerated curtsey. “Your Majesty.”