The large stronghold rose up in the distance, surrounded by thick, impenetrable black stone walls. It had often been said that the Findius Stronghold could never be breached, and it never had been. Not until the Air Court decided to exile the shadow fae from Tir Na Nog.
The stronghold itself was nothing short of magnificent. Three towers rose from the rocky ledge that sat atop a dormant volcano. A multitude of shades of red splashed the sky behind them, like paint on a canvas. Every stone was black and gleaming, even in the gloom. If the fire pits were lit, the entire world would look ablaze.
Lorcan glanced at Nollaig, who stood silently beside him, her crow perched on her left shoulder. “You don’t plan for us to retake it, do you?”
They had only travelled at night and on foot so that the air fae would not see them coming.
“That castle is ours, as is the city,” Nollaig said in that strange grating voice of hers. “I want nothing more than for our people to reclaim it.” She sighed. “But no. We do not have the numbers for that.”
Lorcan nodded. They had only come with a couple dozen warriors, and the air fae were rumored to be ten thousand strong inside of Findius. He could not help but wonder why his father had sent so few. Did the shadow king truly have such a small army?
As if reading his mind, Nollaig said, “Our army is greater than what we have here. Most of our warriors remained behind to protect Olc Fortress. However, that would still not be enough to breach the city. We likely would not even reach the walls. Arrows would rain down upon us. Hundreds of them.” Nollaig shifted to the left and pointed at a glow on the distant horizon. “That is where we are headed. A village called Bilivik full of stubborn fae far too attached to their dead House of Cleas. Your father told them time and time again to move further from the border, and yet they have remained. Our scouts say they have finally been attacked.”
“And we’re here to rescue them?”
She patted his arm. “A noble thought, but no. I do not think there is any way to rescue the dead.”
Nollaig fell silent, letting her words sink in. The village had already been ransacked. There would be no saving the villagers now. His heart pounded as memories threatened to flood his mind. The vision of his own burning village loomed large, and the stench of death was as fresh as it had been ten years past. His chest twisted with a strange ache of loss.
But that was ridiculous. These were shadow fae. And despite that bloody mark on his arm, that did not make him one of them.
They are innocents, though, a voice whispered deep within his heart. His mother’s voice. They did not deserve to die.
The army resumed its trek across the fields of ash. They turned east, keeping to the thickest shadows so that the fae guarding the stronghold would not spot them passing by. As they grew closer to the village, Lorcan soon realized the glow was not light from within cottage walls but fire.
The air fae had burned the buildings to the ground. The only thing that remained was a large, stone-walled building in the very center of it, looming over everything.
His heart twisted again. He had the sudden urge to turn tail and run. It was far too familiar. Ten-year-old wounds felt ripped open wide, once again gushing with fresh blood that splashed onto the baked ground.
Nollaig saw him hesitate as the warriors stepped around him. She paused by his side. “Is something the matter? It’s the air fae, isn’t it? You do not want to fight them.”
“It isn’t that at all,” he said quietly.
“Then, what is it?”
He ground his teeth. This shadow fae was his enemy. He shouldn’t tell her a damned thing. She had no right to know what had happened to him as a boy. But he found himself speaking regardless. “My father knew where I was, but he did not know my mother had died. Why?”
“She told him where she’d be. The name of her village,” Nollaig replied, furrowing her brows. “Perhaps deep down she hoped he would come.”
“He should have known that she’d died. It’s been ten long years, Nollaig.” He kept his gaze rooted to the ground. “She got killed in the attack. Almost every fae died that night. The buildings burned down. Blood was everywhere.”
“I see,” she said quietly. “Did you see who attacked you?”
This time, Lorcan lied. Regardless of what he’d admitted so far, he could not explain the Fomorians to anyone. It would be a secret he carried to the grave. “No.”
“Well, we know who slaughtered all of these villagers,” she said, pointing to the burning village. “The air fae. And they’ve taken up camp inside. We’re here to drive them out. We might not save the ones who died, but we cannot allow them to remain. This is our land. They already took our city, our castle. We will not allow them to take anything else from us.”
Lorcan knew what she was doing. And it was clever, even if it wouldn’t work. The Air Court might have attacked this village, but it hadn’t attacked his. His enemies were the Fomorians. And he would never get the chance to shove his blade into the chest of those monsters. The ones who had murdered his mother.
“I am only here because I didn’t want to stay at the castle with my father,” he said through gritted teeth.
“I know. But you’re here, and I’m afraid you’re going to have to at least make a show of fighting. Even if you don’t kill any of them, you’re going to have to throw around that blade of yours. I won’t tell your father if you stay back, but the others will.”
Lorcan lifted his eyes from the ground. “Why?”
“Well, because they’re loyal to him, and they’ll want to get into his good—”
“No, why wouldn’t you tell him? You’re one of his closest advisors. You forced me to come here.”
She was silent for a moment before answering. “I am loyal, but I have my own mind. I can serve him but not agree with his every decision.” She sucked in a sharp breath and turned away. “Now, enough of that. We must go and fight. I’d advise you to make it as convincing as you can.”
Nollaig fell back into step with the warriors, and Lorcan followed close behind. She and Segonax had been helpful ever since his arrival. Kind, almost. It felt like a trap. But a trap for what? They had already won. He’d come to the Shadow Court. He had taken the mark, transforming him into the prince his father had demanded he become.
That must have been it. He was their prince now. The heir to the throne. A strange thought flittered through him as they reached the edge of the village. Did that make him the future king?
Surely his father was not as misguided as that, to make an angry bastard the future king. Lorcan could kill him and take the throne himself. His father didn’t hold a Seat of Power. Lorcan would not be cursed if he took it by force, unlike the Selkirks of the Air Court.
A sharp pain cut through his arm. Lorcan stumbled sideways. He grasped at his arm, gritting his teeth. What the hell was that?
If you kill the king, then I’ll kill you, a strange voice whispered from inside his own mind.
Lorcan jolted and stumbled into Nollaig. She grabbed him by the arms and held him upright. “Ah yes. That would be the mark kicking in. If it thinks you aren’t following your father’s orders, well…” She mimed slamming a blade into her head.