A Queen of Thieves & Chaos (Fate & Flame, #3)

His bellow of laughter carries. “You really have gone mad, my friend.”

“You do not know the half of it.” I waver over the urge to hold tight to what I know, protect Romeria a little longer. But I relied on secrecy and lies to rule before, and it ended up not serving me well. Besides, we won’t be able to keep this to ourselves much longer. Not when the Nulling opens on Hudem, and untold creatures crawl out. “What if I told you that, after two thousand years, the end to the blood curse is upon us, and the answers lie within the kingdom you see before you and the queen who rules it? One who wants peace for all.”

A slow breath slips from his lips. “I would very much like to meet this queen.”

“I can arrange that.”

Behind Telor, Braylon and his two riders approach. “Your son has grown too impatient to wait, I see.”

“Hold your ground. We are not finished yet!” Lord Telor demands without glancing behind him, but the riders keep moving in at a steady trot.

Behind me, hooves pound, moving more urgently. Rushing to catch up to their counterparts.

Telor scowls. “This generation … they do not show proper respect to decorum or rank.”

I chuckle, listening to Telor complain about his son a nostalgic song in my ear for all the times I’ve heard him say similar things in the past.

But the comfort evaporates as Braylon and his men draw their weapons.





CHAPTER TWENTY




ROMERIA


“What’s going on?” Only a moment ago, I heard a man’s laugh. Now the three soldiers who accompanied Telor are closing in. It’s difficult for me to see in the growing darkness, but I didn’t notice Telor beckoning them.

“Pups who do not follow orders,” Jarek says.

“We should go in, too, then.”

“He would signal us if he were concerned.” But Abarrane’s horse dances in place.

Zander is alone, too far from a flame. Still, he hasn’t drawn his weapon or hinted that anything’s off. Maybe Abarrane is right, but I don’t like the ratio. “Can you place a shield on him, Gesine?”

“Not from this distance. Especially not when I have this bird in my head. It is distracting.”

I forgot. She shares the taillok’s vision, and it’s in flight. We should have waited to send the message. She’s virtually useless to us when we need her most.

“I don’t like this. Something feels off.”

“Who is that male?” Kienen asks. “The one leading.”

“Lord Braylon Telor,” Jarek answers. “Telor’s son.”

“Why?” I ask.

Kienen meets my gaze, assessing me as if I’m a puzzle he can’t solve.

“What is it?” I snap.

He pulls his horse up, filling the space Zander once took. “The elven who met with Tyree was wearing that helm.”

“The one with the horns. Are you sure?”

“I am positive.”

Alarm bells ring. I kick my heels into my horse’s flanks, launching it forward. Behind me, hooves thump, but I can only focus ahead, my heart walloping inside my chest.

Is Braylon working against his father?

Or with him?

Neither scenario plays out well for our cause.

For weeks now, Zander has held out hope that he could sway Lord Telor, that Lyndel is the start to winning back loyalty and his throne, one house at a time.

All four affinities crackle under my skin, waiting to be unleashed on these traitors. I will scorch the earth where they stand if anything happens to Zander.

I’ve closed half the distance when the approaching soldiers draw weapons. My fear surges. I launch an air shield in front of Zander a split second before an arrow flies toward him. It strikes the invisible wall and ricochets away.

Metal rings as Zander draws his blade.

But it’s Lord Telor who roars. “What is the meaning of this!” He spins his horse, rearing on his men. “Stay your—”

My jaw drops as Braylon Telor drives his sword deep under his father’s arm where the armor has an opening before dragging it clean.

“No!” Zander yells as his longtime friend and ally topples off his horse to land on the hard ground.

Braylon and the others are already charging back toward their camp. “They’ve killed Lord Telor!” a frantic voice calls out in the night. They’re too far for their shouts to be heard, but it won’t be long before that lie catches ears and spreads. No one from their camp will have seen Braylon’s attack unfurl from this distance, in the dark, to disbelieve his claim.

“Telor must not die! Save him!” Zander urges his horse forward. It rears on its hind legs, kicking at the shield. I release my hold on my affinity and Zander rushes away, Abarrane, Elisaf, Kienen, and Radomir on his heels moments later.

Jarek stops at my side. “That was a merth blade. He will not survive a wound like that.”

I drop from my horse and stumble to where Lord Telor’s limp body lies, blood pouring freely from the gash in his side. “Let me worry about that. Help them.” When Jarek falters, I scream, “That’s an order!”

He spurs his horse into a gallop without another word.

Zorya slows long enough for Gesine to scramble from their horse before speeding off with the others. “Does he have a pulse?”

I press my fingers against his neck. “Yes.”

“Then it is not too late.”

“Fix him!” I plead with the caster.

Gesine hovers a hand over the wound. “It is deep. I will have to release my hold of the taillok, and we will lose it.”

“I don’t care. Telor can’t die.”

“Then you must do this, Romeria.”

“I can’t!”

She guides my hand and places it on Telor’s failing body. “You have done it before when it mattered. It matters now.”

Right. Elisaf. Adrenaline pounds in my ears. “I’ll try. But if I can’t, forget the stupid bird and save him.”

She nods. “Focus on what is at stake.”

I close my eyes, reaching for those soothing, cool strands of Aoife’s power. If Lord Telor dies and Braylon’s lies reach his men …

Zander’s right. Telor must survive.

With that fear firmly in place, I let my affinity flow.

Somewhere nearby, the ground rumbles.





CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE




ZANDER


“They’ve slain my father! Prepare for battle!” Braylon’s hoarse shouts carry. But do they carry enough? No one will have seen him skewer his father in the middle of the open, dark plain, but they will believe him without question. Telor said he argued with his son about this parley, about going out at dusk. Now I can see it was all part of the plan, and surely, he spoke these words in front of others.

If Telor dies, it will be another false crime to hang on my shoulders, followed by one I commit when I’m forced to kill every one of those men in that camp. And then where does that leave Islor but weakened even further?

Rage fills me. The camp’s flames are still too far away, but my reach will likely find them just as Braylon’s shouts do.

Suddenly, my horse rears, the ground beneath its hooves tremoring. Kienen speeds past, his focus on the males ahead.

I watch with a mixture of awe and horror as all three drop into the earth.