“Watch your mouth,” Slade barks. “You will treat Auren’s guard with respect.”
Digby glares at him. “I don’t need your defense, boy,” he says to Slade before he turns back to Ryatt. “My leg and ribs are better,” Digby retorts. “I’m healed enough to kick your ass.”
Judd snickers.
“Something funny?” Ryatt demands. “Sorry we can’t all laugh everything off and pretend it’s fine like you do, but Drollard is in serious fucking danger of being starved out if your king doesn’t get off his ass and fucking do something!”
My eyes flare wide, bouncing between them as they all seem to snarl and snap at each other like a bunch of hungry dogs.
Across the table, Lu gives me an eye roll. “You see what I put up with all the time?” she tells me before getting to her feet. Then she hops on top of the table and, quick as a whip, launches a dagger from...I don’t even know where, and makes it slam point-first into the wood, pinning the letters down.
Everyone stops talking at the same time, looking up at her.
“Now that I have your Divine-damned attention...” She places her fists on her waist, looking down at them like the captain she is. “I need you all to tuck your dicks in for a second and try to think rationally. Like a woman.”
Despite the severity of the situation, I can’t help but grin.
“It’s clear what we need to do,” she goes on, and she points at Ryatt. “You need to stop being a prick. Slade cares about Drollard and everyone in it—and you know this. Just like we also know that you’re stressed as fuck about it because this place is your home. But like I said, stop being a prick.”
Ryatt looks mulish, but he keeps his mouth shut.
Her finger moves to Judd. “Stop being an instigating asshole.”
“And you,” she says next, pointing at Slade. “You’ve been gone way too long from your kingdom, and you know it.”
“You...” she says to Digby next, making him look up at her warily. “Keep up the good work. Same for you, Hojatty,” she adds, and the mender gives her a shy smile.
“And Gildy.” I stare cautiously at her finger, bracing myself for her words. “You need to yank up your big girl britches and figure out your magic. Because we all know Rip sure as hell isn’t going to leave without you, and frankly, you need to do it before we let you near another ballroom. It’s time.”
I know she’s right. I’m past the point of dragging my feet. I need to be stronger physically and magically. So even though it fills me with dread, I nod. “I know.”
“I know you do,” she replies. When she drops her hand to her side, everyone seems to relax a little. I’d find it funny if I weren’t so anxious. “Now, we’re not going to argue and waste time anymore. Os is already getting the last third of the army crossed back into our territory. Which means we are going to have thousands of tired troops we need to take care of, and letters to answer. We need to come up with a plan. Together.”
Collectively, everyone nods.
Lu hops down from the table and then looks to Slade, and I see his own demeanor shift. He looks like he did in his Rip form—the devious commander of the world’s most fearsome army.
He braces his hands against the wood, eyes skimming over the rolled scrolls beneath his fingers. “The other kingdoms think they can try to bully me into handing over Auren, but it’s not going to work,” he says, and I finally hear it—the rage that he’s kept hidden, the need to act that he’s been suppressing. After a moment, he lifts his head from the letters, and a wicked grin spreads over his face. “Maybe I need to remind them of why no one fucks with King Rot.”
CHAPTER 40
AUREN
Yesterday, as everyone filled me in on all the political moves that’ve been happening since Ranhold, I realized just how sheltered I’ve been. How much they’ve tried to shield from me. But now that those shields are down, they included me in all the talks. Several times, one of them would look over to me and ask my thoughts on the matter. I startled the first couple times, caught myself frowning in confusion another.
I’ve been a silent witness to hundreds of political meetings over the years, but the key word is silent. I was never invited to voice an opinion, never allowed to ask questions. I was just the caged pet meant to be gawked at.
We all spoke for hours, and admittedly, I was out of my element. I’m not used to being asked for my judgment on things like this. But that’s just another reason why Slade and his Wrath are different. They all work together. Even when they argue, Slade isn’t pulling rank and meting out punishment. He opens every discussion, hears everyone’s say in the matter, from his Wrath to his mender—to even my guard. He listens to everyone, taking it all into account.
Midas would never have done that.
And despite such difficult topics, Slade seemed relieved after. Like this was a weight he’s been pulling behind him, secreted away from view as he silently shouldered the responsibility. But now that it’s all out in the open, he seems more self-assured and ready.
But me? My mind has been turned to mush, like porridge that’s had an overabundance of oats added. It’s a sticky slop with too many grains of thought congealed together in my head.
My sleep is fitful that night. I’m not sure when we finally all go to bed, but by the time we do, I wake up in desultory pieces, as fragments of dreams cut through my consciousness. I’m overloaded with brand new information coming at me from all directions.
I dream of the rotted prisoner. Of Ryatt screaming in my face to leave his home. Of Elore, only I see her from Slade’s account, of when he made that rip in the world, of her screaming until her voice no longer worked. I dream of Queen Kaila holding me hostage with ropes of collected whispers. I dream of my gold bursting out of me and encasing all of Drollard.
When my eyes drag open after that last dream, I decide not to close them again.
I’m done.
Not with sleep—but with me. With this heavy undertow, where I’m trying to move one way but I actually keep dragging myself back. And I’m not just holding myself back either, I’m also holding back a king who needs to protect his kingdom.
I know what I have to do.
So, I carefully get out of bed, even though we only just got into it a few hours ago. I quietly dress and then go to the door, checking on Slade’s sleeping form before I slip out. From the hook beside the banked fire in the living room, I grab my coat and shrug it on before stepping into my boots. The house is quiet and still and cold, but I’m shrouded in a nervous warmth.
The normally creaky front door of the Grotto doesn’t make a sound as I open it and slip out. Ahead, the cave yawns open with the barest hint of dawn cresting against the landscape. I walk toward the muted light, tucking my hands beneath my arms as I leave the protection of the cavern.
The air is placid and raw, the kind of cold that sticks to your breath and makes your lungs feel like ice. I turn my back on the silent village and aim up the slope, my steps sure, my mind determined.
Because I’m going to master my power.
If Slade could learn to do it when he was eight, then I can do it now. I have to.
So I drag my ass up the freezing hill, with my body encased in the shade of the mountain to my right. I go past the Perch, past the Mole, cursing under my breath as my boots sink into the snow and my legs burn. I forgot how long the walk was to get up here. But finally, I pull myself into the cave that’s polluted with the splashes of gold I left behind.
My eyes adjust to the dim lighting, to the solidified gold that’s pooled in the center of the rocky floor. When I move closer though, a shadow that I’d mistaken for one of the rock formations shifts. I jump back in surprise, a yelp popping out of my lips.
I stare wide-eyed at the timberwing that unfolds its wings, lifting its head to look at me.
“Great Divine, you scared me,” I say shakily, hand covering my now racing heart.
The giant beast raises its nose, like it’s scenting me.