6
Solano
“Distracted, my lord?” Brock keeps his eyes on the road ahead, but I’d be a fool to think he wasn’t observing me.
“No.” I watch the fireflies and glowing wisps in the trees on either side of the road. The dense wood is home to so many foreign creatures that I find myself too wrapped up in wonder to carry on much conversation. It doesn’t help that I keep glancing back at the carriage and wondering what the changeling inside is doing or thinking.
“Good. A distracted king is a terrible ruler.” He nods to himself. “We have more important matters than the changeling behind us.”
“Such as?” I know far too well the troubles in the day realm, but my leading question will give Brock a chance to blow off whatever head of steam he’s been building during this trip.
“First of all, you broke the law between our realms by choosing only one changeling.”
I wave that concern away. “Next?”
“The seekers.”
“Yes, they’re a nuisance for Daylanders who brave the night realm. Next?”
“The lords and ladies of your court who conspire against you and seek to place an unseelie pretender upon your throne.”
“Varan will never sit on any throne, especially not in the Daylands. He’d be better off trying to take King Sigrid’s realm than mine.”
“But Sigrid has a son of his own, an heir.”
“I know.” I met him once when I was still a youngling. He was young, too, and strong. His silver eyes missed nothing, though his father was particularly hard on him from what I recall. “But Eraldon hasn’t been seen in ages.”
“Murdered by Sigrid. The old king can’t have anyone challenging him for his throne.” He glances at me. “Perhaps you could take a lesson there.”
I shake my head. “I’m not having Varan killed. He’s my brother.”
Brock scowls. “You should at the very least kick him out of court, my lord.”
“I know.” We’ve been over this so many times that I can already hear the same arguments in his voice. “What else?”
He finally looks over at me. “Have you forgotten Gwenarie?”
Spires, why did he have to bring her up?
“I thought so.” He tsks. “She’s not going to stop. Your father made promises to her.”
“Father is dead.” I hate the finality of it, but it’s true. He and Mother are in the Glowing Lands, probably watching me make a mess with as much disdain as they had when still alive.
“Even so, that promise has shaped Gwenarie’s life. When you show up with one changeling as your consort, she won’t like it.”
I raise a brow. “Are you saying she’d prefer I brought ten?”
“Yes,” he responds as if it’s obvious. “With ten, you can play them off against each other, and no one among them is special. This one tonight, that one tomorrow, a third the next. But with one?” He whistles, and something shifts in the dark.
“What was that?” The tips of my pointed ears tingle.
“Likely a night animal.” Brock points to the nearest guard. “Go and report back.”
“My lord.” She dismounts and stalks into the trees, her sword drawn.
We continue, the horses snorting, their breath steaming in the chilly night air. I’m not used to this sort of coolness, and it seems to seep into my bones. I’ve visited the Nightlands before, but I’ve never thought about missing the day. I do now.
“Gwenarie still expects that she will be your fated mate, or if not, that you’ll forsake your fated love for her. When you arrive with one changeling, she will be hurt.”
I scrub a hand down my face. “She’s always hurt, Brock. She’s the most delicate flower in all of the day realm. She and Lunarie are like violets, easily trampled and always blue. But at least Lunarie is kind. Gwenarie …” I shake my head. She’s cruel and calculating at the best of times, and she’s never lost sight of the day queen’s crown. “Gwenarie is a problem.”
“A beautiful one,” he reminds me.
“Yes, but I don’t feel the bond with her.”
“You may yet.” He hangs onto the same hope that all in my realm do. They want a royal mating, one between the two oldest and most powerful families in the realm. But I refuse to forsake my fated mate and accept the pairing.
Brock turns and peers back. “Has she returned?”
The other guards respond in the negative.
“Stay sharp,” he barks.
And then I feel it. The oppressive weight of enemies encroaching all around us. I draw my blade.
“Steady.” Brock keeps the procession moving, and I spare a look at the carriage, worry trying to creep into my mind. But the changeling will be safe. After all, whatever hunts us is after my blood, not hers.
“King Sigrid promised safe passage.” Brock spits, the insult in it perfectly clear.
A scream through the trees sets my teeth on edge.
“Ride ahead, my lord.” Brock is battle-hardened, his sword imbued with the power of each foe he’s challenged and beaten on the battlefield.
“I’ll fight.”
“Solano.” He shakes his head. “We can’t risk you.”
“I say what we can risk.” I don’t look at the carriage, but I feel as if he knows my thoughts linger there, because he sighs. “Stay close.”
“I’m skilled in combat. You trained me yourself.”
“I realize.” He stares into the gloom to my right.
I follow the direction and see the glowing eyes in the dark.
“Seekers.” He curses in the old language and bellows, “Take their heads!”
The seekers come for us, some of them racing through the trees and others descending from above on black, webbed wings. Blood is quickly spilled, my guards hacking and slashing as the seekers rip and scream their way toward me. Pale skin, white fangs, and dark eyes—they prey on the weak. But for so long now, they’ve been trying to topple the strong. The day realm will never fall to such creatures, not when the sun keeps them at bay, but they take particular pains to attack any Daylanders who visit the night realm.
Brock dismounts and swings an arc around us, clearing the way as he brandishes his sword. “Keep going! Form ranks around our king!”
Soldiers hurry to obey his order as more and more seekers appear, their fangs and claws slicing through sinew and bone.
I can’t sit and watch my people be slaughtered. Slinging my leg over my horse, I jump down and behead the nearest seeker. My soldiers join me. “Take them down!” I grab the next one and will my magic to the surface. It’s weaker in the Nightlands but still potent. The sun shines through the creature, light streaming from his eyes and mouth as he turns into ash at my feet. My fire doesn’t ignite, but it doesn’t have to. Seekers abhor the sun, and my touch is enough to destroy them.
Several of the creatures rush the carriage. The changeling screams, and my hackles rise as I fight to get to her. I slice through three more seekers, then use my magic to incinerate half a dozen that rip and tear at the horses.