“What in litches’ name?” Lord Wellimton mutters just as I careen my head to see behind them. And then they’re jostling, writhing, spilling into the room—an entire hissing horde of them.
The wraiths cover the space in a horrific wave until they’re surrounding the Assembly and filling up the center aisle behind the first two who entered. Around me, the delegates’ faces mimic the revulsion plastered on those of the Assembly’s, and Lord Percival seems to be making some type of gagging noise with his throat. Lord Wellimton’s red face is swelling up so heatedly, he looks in danger of popping.
Eogan-who-is-Draewulf extends a hand. “My friends, my countrymen. Just as Odion brought Bron into the future with technological advancements, so I carry us even further. This Dark Army is the key to your future. Cooperate with me, and together we will take what we need from Tulla. Choose not to cooperate with me and . . .” He nods toward the two wraith-things facing us, who immediately let out a hiss. “We will advance without you.”
The way he says it, I’ve no doubt we all know what he’s just implied. He spells it out anyway. “The Dark Army is currently moving through Bron toward us. Even now, many are camped outside the city, ready to . . . lend assistance as we prepare.”
“What about the rest of our negotiations?” Lord Wellimton’s face is five shades of insulted. “Surely Your Highness doesn’t think we delegates, nor Faelen’s treaty—”
“From here on out you will continue to consider yourselves my guests. It is not your country we are going to war against. However—”
Lord Wellimton actually stomps his foot. “I demand—” “
You’ll demand nothing. Interfere with our plans and you and your kingdom will be considered enemies of this Assembly, Bron, and the Dark Army itself.”
With that, Draewulf waves his hand and our Bron guards, accompanied by three of the terrifying wraiths, appear to escort us and the Faelen bodyguards to our quarters.
CHAPTER 24
I CAN’T BELIEVE HE WOULD THREATEN US WITH THE very weapon that defeated Bron seated in front of them!” Lord Wellimton’s voice clips off the walls of his room we’re stuffed into. He points his frown at me, as if to indicate I should’ve done something. Said something.
The expectation in his gaze makes my chest bones ache with the expanding weight of that vortex inside. I’m shivering again. I turn toward the door to where our Faelen and Cashlin guards are standing, having been taken semi-hostage along with us. I need to leave. I need to focus—to continue training before the shuddering and poison in my bones set in to the point I’m cowed over.
“Perhaps it’s the best solution,” Lord Percival says. “After all, he’s in a delicate situation trying to hold on to his throne.”
Every one of us rotates to stare at him. He ducks his head. “Or perhaps not.”
“War is never the best solution,” Princess Rasha says.
Lady Gwen looks scared. “Most of the Assembly seemed confused or furious. How could King Eogan keep his throne by murdering their generals? Why don’t they fight back? Were this Faelen’s council, my father and grandfather would’ve never allowed this when they were alive.”
Rasha’s perched on the couch. She smiles tight. “The Assembly just lost a war and aren’t prepared to fight another of this magnitude. Especially one that snuck up within their own territory.”
I recall Eogan saying something similar a few weeks ago to Colin and me: “If anything, Bron’s arrogance has blinded them to the real danger in recent years. Their focus on Faelen will be their undoing.”
I nod. “Eogan said Draewulf’s been developing the army for years under Bron’s nose. They just refused to acknowledge it until now.” I eye Rasha but she’s still declining to look at me.
“Eogan told you?” Lord Wellimton’s face thins. “Meaning the same man who just murdered his generals and informed us he plans to destroy Tulla?” He snorts. “Seems a bit convenient, don’t you think? He hides out in Faelen a few years, scouts out our weaknesses until opportunity strikes, and then happens to kill the shape-shifter to take over his army? Not to mention he spent weeks courting the only person who could probably put a stop to it.” He leans near me. “The person who, if rumors be true, is vying to be his queen. Tell me, did you know about this?”
I don’t dignify him with a response. Just turn to the others. “We need to send word to King Sedric and Cashlin’s queen as well as Tulla.”
Myles scowls. “You think Eogan’sss merely going to allow that, do you?”
“Maybe one of his dissenting Assembly will.”
“On what? A guarded airship?”