Siren's Song (31 page)

I swallow. “Thank you,” I whisper back in their direction.

I cool the air further and quicken Haven into a trot. When the forest has thinned enough for faster riding, we push the horses along the path, and Gilford pipes up. “Okay, so how? How'd you rescue the princess?”

“When I left Faelen I made my way up to Tulla through the mountain passes where the wraiths were less prominent. They can't
run the airships without the Bron captains and soldiers—and it was those men's loyalty that enabled us to find the princess. She was being held on a ship in the center of the destroyed capital. Although, surprisingly, she was less guarded than one would think. It seems Draewulf's growing a bit too cocky.” Eogan shrugs. “Or else Cashlin's giving him more fight than he bargained for.”

Yet even as Eogan's speaking, there's a weight to his words, his tone, his expression that tells me it wasn't as easy as all that. As do the claw markings that are healing across his neck.

“You nearly died.”

His jaw tightens.

Hmm. Good guess.

“Twice it seems,” Mia says behind me.

“Why?” I glare at him. “What were you thinking? What happened to you going to Bron?”

He snorts. “So first you were angry I was leaving for Bron, and now you're angry I didn't? Good grief, woman—”

“I'm angry that you almost got yourself killed. Or worse, caught. You should've taken me.”

Behind me Gilford clears his throat. To announce he'd like to hear the rest of the story, I presume.

“I did not almost get caught.” Eogan's face is a ripple of insult. “I made War General at age twelve, so I'd appreciate a bit more trust in my prowess, if you don't mind. But regarding Bron . . .” His tone turns serious. “I sent Kenan with my seal in my stead. He'll have far more influence over the Assembly than them suddenly seeing me halfway through their war against Tulla. It would only add to the confusion and divisiveness, whereas Kenan will be able to communicate with the weight of my unseen authority behind him.”

Oh.

His voice drops even further. “Either way, I agreed with you—
that what I accomplished in Bron wouldn't affect the outcome of what's decided here. So while—”

“Wait. Repeat that first part, where you said you agreed with—”

“As I was saying, while I am still afraid for my people and I still very much believe they deserve the presence of their king, I ultimately believed it wiser to rescue Rasha and prepare Faelen for war. And in doing so, give Bron and the whole of the Hidden Lands a fighting chance.”

“So you lied to me.”

“I did.”

“And you let me argue with you about it.”

“I did.”

Well, at least the bolcrane admits it.

Behind me one of the soldiers has the gall to snicker.

“No offense, Nym, but you're a hardheaded, stubborn slip of a wench, and I actually hadn't fully decided—not until I saw the determination on your face at the Assembly the other night. Which is when I knew.”

I purse my lips and wait.
Knew what?

“I knew you'd want to follow me or insist on coming to find Rasha. Except your people need you to raise them into an army if they're to have any chance of surviving this war. And you are the only person to do that.”

I snort.

“I also didn't think it wise to put us both in danger, lest things . . . didn't go as planned.”

“You mean lest I get myself killed.”

“I mean losing you is something none of us can afford, and you of all people know that.”

“Look up.” Mia points through the trees where a gap in the branches gives us a rare, momentary clear view of the sky above.
And the airship that must be tracking us as they're nearly right on top of us.

Mia gives a little yelp as Rasha appears at the railing. She looks down with the help of a Bron guard. I swear my face almost cracks in half with my smile stretching across it. My heart shoves against my rib cage as the Elemental in my blood sings a refrain that zips and flits through my veins. She's alive! And here!

I could kiss Eogan for this.

Until I see the Bron guard is doing more than helping her. He's practically holding her up.

She waves me off as if to say she's fine.

“Weak from exhaustion and hunger mainly,” Eogan explains.

“But she's here. And she's all right.” Everything in me wants to rush up there to wrap myself around her face.

“She will be.”

Rasha smiles down on us, but the lines in her face that the past few days have brought on say it may be awhile. Oh hulls, she needs medical attention.

I turn to Eogan. “They need to get Rasha to the Castle.”

He nods. “They're waiting until we reach the forest edge and then they'll take Kel, Lord Myles, the Cashlins, and us with them. The soldiers will bring the horses.”

I swallow and nod. And force a grin before blowing her a kiss.

She returns it, then sags against the guard assisting her. Then the tree foliage turns thick again, blocking my view of her along with the sky and sun.

I lean over to Eogan to murmur, “Thank you,” but it comes out more choked up than intended.

I'm rewarded with a half tweak of a smile.

Just then one of the soldiers rides up beside me. “Lord Myles isn't too responsive, miss. I think we should hurry.”

I turn back to look and am met by the Lord Protectorate waving madly at the disappeared airship.

I set Haven to canter at a faster pace.

It's an hour of listening to the airship's muted drone and tediously avoiding ticks and trees and swamp water before any of us speak again.

“And what about the Uathúils? The ones you were searching for?” Gilford asks.

“That main wraith
was
the Uathúil,” I answer before peering back to Myles, whose vision of spiders has popped up from time to time over the past half hour. They appear to be following us, to the chagrin of the last soldier.

The Lord Protectorate's eyes are flashing wildly, hinting at what's behind them in that head of his.
“He's on the edge of a precipice. He has a choice, but should he decide wrong, destroy him.”
The words from Queen Laiha ripple through my mind. I glance away.

“But he was a wraith.”

“Exactly,” Eogan says as I push Haven ahead and let the silence fall as it may. Let the awareness sink in for Gilford and Mia, and even Myles who's slowly coming round, of what that means.

Because it means Draewulf can alter Uathúils. Which means the ones he finds in Tulla and Cashlin won't merely be killed . . .

“This changes everything,” Eogan says.

Yes, yes, it does. I shudder and press harder to get us out of the forest as fast as our horses can carry us through the mist and heat and dripping swampy trees.

CHAPTER 29

H
OW IN HULLS ARE THEY HERE AND ALTERING
our people already?”

I'm waiting for steam to spew from King Sedric's nostrils the way he's been going on. I've never seen him this frazzled, even when he was facing down Eogan's brother, King Odion. Not only is his skin tight, I'm quite certain his hair has started graying in the past five minutes.

“I believe these people were turned to wraiths before I—
before Draewulf
—left Faelen. When he spent the week here in my body.” Eogan's face remains firm as stone as he says it, but I sense the emotion underneath. The self-loathing.

The impression makes me want to murder something. I'm grateful Eogan doesn't remember most of what he did while Draewulf owned his skin because I'm not sure his pride could handle it.

“So you're saying there've been wraiths within our borders for over two weeks?” Sedric looks at Eogan and Rolf. “How? I thought Tannin said that group was just a scouting party. How could the men have overlooked checking them?”

“That group wasn't a scout party,” I say. “They weren't smart enough for that.”

Eogan tips his head. “Even Lord Myles had the gumption to fool them into thinking he was dead. They were merely minions—
wraiths with little intelligence to serve as part of the larger army. And it was obvious they were camped out there—waiting for Draewulf's orders, if I had to guess. It's just an accident Myles stumbled on them when he did.”

“But our own scout parties—”

“Would've simply thought the stench and bodies were the plagues, Your Highness. I doubt they could've known Draewulf had been there changing them.”

Sedric rubs a hand over his chin and swears while Eogan and I look on. “Yes, but how many others are there? If there's one village in Litchfell taken over, there must be more.” He turns to his Captain of the Guard. “Rolf, I want three units to plow through that forest. Have them search out every last village and kill anything that's not alive. And by alive, I mean natural.”

“But, sire, all our men are headed for the front.”

“Well, now it's all except for three units. We can't afford to be taken from the inside of our own kingdom while fighting the border as well. See that the units leave immediately—and, Rolf?”

“Yes, sire?”

“I want a
thorough
sweep.”

“Yes, sire.”

“They'll be killed,” I whisper, eyeing Eogan.

“Not if he takes our best soldiers who've entered that forest more times than the rest of us.” Sedric frowns at me. “Do either of you have any specifics on how they make more of themselves?”

His tone suggests that if this is an insensitive topic for Eogan, he doesn't have time to care.

“It's my understanding only Draewulf and Lady Isobel are able to do such a thing,” I say, without glancing at Eogan. “They use magic, and as I overheard them both say, doing so is a heavy drain on their abilities.”

He cocks his brow. “Which may explain Draewulf's delay in arriving. With those airships, I confess I thought he'd have shown up by now to begin his assault. Instead, I've heard neither whisper nor holler from across the waterway. Perhaps he's adding to his army.”

“In more ways than we thought.” I inhale and glance at Eogan.
There's no good way to go about telling Sedric. Might as well just spit it out.
Eogan nods. “Your Highness, while there, we discovered Draewulf can turn Uathúils into wraiths as well.”

When Sedric doesn't flinch, I add, “Into a sort of more magnificent wraith. Like a Terrene version.”

There's the reaction I expected. Paling face. Muttered swear words. Glancing up and around until his gaze lands on Eogan. “Is this true?”

“It is.”

“And Lady Isobel can do so as well?”

“I would assume so, yes. At least when she still had her powers.”

“So we have wraiths in our midst—who knows how many—and Draewulf coming down on us with an army of Luminescent and Terrene-wraiths! What in bleeding's name—” He slams his fist against the giant map table.

“We do have the boat of Cashlins that came in yesterday,” Rolf says quietly. “Perhaps we should ask them what they've seen on the altering-their-people front.”

I raise a brow and stare at Sedric as behind me Mia gasps so loudly, it's the first time I'm reminded she's been in the room this whole time. “A boat? From Cashlin? Where are they? Why aren't we speaking with them?”

“Because we put them under quarantine until Lord Myles's and your return. Considering some were Luminescents and Terrene, we thought it best to wait until we had Uathúils of our own before we went too far with them.”

“But Mel—”

“The Luminescent has been most helpful,” Sedric says to Mia. “We've had her with Lady Isobel almost the entire past five days.” He glances at Rolf. “And it's my understanding the Cashlins who arrived yesterday were more refugees than survivors of Draewulf's initial attack on their capital. What little information we asked them for, they weren't able to help much. Other than to say the wraith raids had spread to the southern borders where they came from—and they barely escaped before their homes were burned to the ground.”

“But still . . .”

The king waves his hand at Rolf. “Go ahead and show Mia to her people's holding chambers and allow her to question them.”

Rolf bows and escorts Mia from the room as her “Thank you” floats back toward us.

“Your Majesty, if I may . . .”

Sedric focuses on me.

I can't say it. That if Draewulf is truly changing Uathúils into wraiths, we don't stand a chance. We're biding our time against a lost cause. I nearly choke on the thought and instead smile. “Have we heard from Eogan's general Kenan?”

Sedric shakes his head.

“And the Faelenians?” Eogan says. “Have we any indication Nym's visits have spurred results?”

“Nothing so far.” Sedric turns to me and smoothes his expression. “But we are hopeful. And I am grateful for your efforts.”

I nod. “Of course.”

“However, if we don't hear by tomorrow afternoon,” a councilman says from the opposite side of the table, “the High Council is strongly advising a draft go into effect.”

Sedric looks at me with an expression that indicates he will agree to it.

I nod again. Because I think I might just agree to it as well. “In that case, if you'll excuse me.”

Sedric waves his hand and turns to Eogan. “If you'll stay, I'd like a word. And, Nym . . .”

I stop halfway to the door. Turn. “Your Highness?”

“It was brought to my attention that Lord Myles's extra ability may have been responsible for some of my soldiers' deaths.”

“That was an unfortunate circumstance, I assure you. Had we been aware his abilities were displaying in such a way—”

“You would have what? Controlled them? You know I have long held my cousin at a personal distance due to suspicion he brought upon himself over the years. Rumors of where his loyalties lie as well as his time spent abroad. At this juncture I'm not decided on what to believe, nor on what precisely to do with him, but I cannot allow him to continue endangering any more of my people or missions. Thus, I am insisting he stay under guard for the time being. Whether he can't control it or in fact is using it on purpose, it is clear he is a danger. However, I will speak with you about him again when it's been considered how to proceed regarding his . . . condition.”