Vale felt strange. He had the instant his horse entered the woods. As if there were things observing him now, watching him closely. Dangerous things he couldn’t smell, hear, or see around him.

A part of him wanted to tell Devi to stay out of the shadows of Graywoods, but it was hardly safer out there.

“You just shot six moving targets while racing at full speed on a galloping horse,” he stated when the female joined him, spelling it out just in case she’d failed to notice.

Devi just shrugged. “Not my fault if you tend to shoot first, aim later.”

He had to let her win this round, because she wasn’t wrong, and mostly because he didn’t feel comfortable talking in the still, silent woods.

There was room enough for the horses to go, but they needed to advance one by one. He took the lead, watching to the left and right, and opening his mind up to scan everything around him.

Nothing. Nothing but the sound of the dyrmounts’ steps on the mossy ground and the wind blowing gently through the thick fog of twisted branches above their heads.

“Something is blocking me,” he said.

“Yep.”

“I feel like there’s a cocoon around me, and I can’t hear a thing. Not even a thought.”

A time or two in his youth, when striving to shut out the thoughts all around him got tiring, he had wished that his power was taken away from him, if only for a moment, so he could rest. Careful what you wish for, they said. He’d long ago learned to purposefully stop hearing thoughts, but now he was trying, and not a whisper came to him from anything but the female trotting behind him. His old wish had been belatedly granted, and he’d never been so helpless.

Devi wasn’t as anxious as he, but now that he was paying attention to the energy around him, he could tell something was making her uncomfortable. Offering words of comfort, or at least distracting her with some teasing, was tempting, but he had to keep his focus on this strange place that made no sense.

“Valerius?” Devi called from behind.

“Hmm?”

“There are twelve arrows pointed at you, and if you go much farther, they’ll probably shoot. Unfortunately, these guys will aim better than you.”

He didn’t ask how she knew this. He’d almost forgotten for a minute that Devi had a parent from these parts of the world. It might prove useful.

Vale removed the hood of his cape and called out loud, “I’m Valerius Blackthorn, heir to one of the fae realms. I request an audience with your king in the north, Elden of Wyhmur.”

There was nothing but silence. “Did that work?” he asked Devi, keeping his voice low.

“Can’t tell yet. They’re whispering, talking amongst themselves.”

He had to admit to feeling a little irked, as he heard no whispers at all.

“How come I can’t hear a thing?”

“You can. You just don’t know it for what it is.”

Vale frowned and listened again. There was nothing except the wind.

He frowned. Yes, he heard wind, and yet the leaves around him didn’t move at all.

“Ah. Neat trick. Air magic?”

“It’s common among elves. And useful, particularly against unseelie.”

He didn’t question that; some seelie fae might be blessed with an air affinity, but every elemental mage of the Unseelie Court was an earth user, to his knowledge.

Sensing a stronger wind, he asked, “What now?”

“Now they’re asking that I present myself.”

She sighed before also removing her hood.

The forest stilled suddenly—no more whisper, no more wind. No one in the vicinity was paying him any mind, entirely focused on Devi.

“Look, I’m not supposed to be here, but we’ve had a long night and a longer day yet. We really, really could use a little break. Let us pass. No drama. We’ll head to Daryn, take the portal to Wyhmur, he’ll say his piece to Elden, and I’ll be out of the Graywoods in no time, I promise.”

Each of her words was a plea. Devi had never sounded more nervous. Since they’d met, he’d seen a strong female who didn't care about any shit like rank, status, or caste. He'd treated her like just another piece of ass for all of two seconds, and she hadn't hesitated one instant before showing him what she was made of.

Seeing her like this was very unpleasant. Her sudden lack of self-confidence, self-worth, and her doubt pissed him the hell off.

The elves didn't answer with more whispers in the mists. No, twelve shadows appeared from either side of the road, walking slowly, like the predators they were.

Vale had seen elves of the Graywoods in his younger days, during the war and right after, when they'd gathered to swear to uphold to their peace treaties. They'd struck him as strange, other, but he would have been hard-pressed to explain how, because like high fae, they were tall and long-eared with handsome features. It was perhaps that they were colder, seemed older, and more versed in the arts of killing. The few elves who lived in Carvenstone were softer, more fae-like.

These dozen were all Graywoods, all slow, purposeful movements and wild demeanors.

Three came from their right flank and another three from the left. The elves wore shining armor entirely made of silver, which shimmered in the dim light now that they'd pulled their dark capes over their shoulders. Their bows were hooked on their backs, and their swords were in their sheaths, until they pulled them all out as one.

Vale had his hand on his own blade, eyes narrowed. Then he watched them all thrust their swords deep in the ground and kneel, heads bent.

“Your Highness,” an elf said, lifting his head first. “We did not expect to see you here. Pardon our impudence.”

Such words were generally addressed to him, but it was Devi they were paying their respect to.

Devi Star….

A humorless chuckle escaped him. “Devi Star Rivers,” he said out loud, turning to her with one brow crooked. “Were you planning to tell me you’re the daughter of Elden Star, king of all elves, and lord of Elvendale, before or after we'd reached the winter court?”

She was entirely unapologetic. “Well, you didn't exactly ask.” To the elf, she said, “I wouldn't be here if I had a choice. The court of night was attacked, and the queen told me to head to Daryn. May we go forth?”

She was visibly relieved when the elf replied that they could.

“Of course. And with your permission, I will escort you through the path so you may not be obstructed again.”

The elf ordered his companions to remain at their post and started to walk with them, holding on to Alarik’s reins.

“Thanks. Appreciated,” Devi said, sweet and charming. “What am I to call you?”

Flirting again. She'd done that with Kallan too; that made two males in as many nights.

Vale had a lot to think about right now. A war, everything his mother had told him the previous night, the fact that he was the son of some sort of god, Kallan potentially pursued in his place, everyone in Carvenstone in danger. But nothing seemed quite as important as the fact that he'd realized she'd never flirted with him. Insulted him? Certainly. Held on to him while he was kissing the fuck out of her? Definitely. But she'd never softened her voice, played with her hair, or smiled that way with him.

“Gallal, my lady,” the elf replied.

“Well, Gallal, lead the way.”

Yes, please, Gallal, Vale mentally echoed. Lead the way and stop staring at her like you want a piece.

Not that he could blame the elf for that. Vale shook his head in disbelief at his own surge of anger, his urge to punch the other male. It wasn’t normal. Not in their world.

His own mother shared her bed with a few males. So did most high fae females. Evolution had shaped their society that way. Jealousy wasn’t in his DNA. It wasn’t natural.

And yet here he was. It had to be sorcery. He liked this theory, clung to it, ignoring the voice that told him it was a lie.

The ride through the woods was slow and punctuated with laughter and more flirting from the two behind him. He did his best to ignore it and failed, listening to every word.

“No, I promise you, the people will rejoice at seeing you safe.”

“I doubt that.”

“Your father gave us all clear orders from the day you left. We are to give you whatever aid you require of us.”

“Wait,” Vale interrupted, “didn’t you say you grew up in the north? Near Carvenstone? And yet I seem to understand from this blabbering that you lived in the Graywoods.”

“I did, on both accounts,” Devi replied. “My father took me to the winter court after my mother passed away. I stayed a year. But your mother and mine had arranged for me to go to court, so when I was of age, she called me.”

He wasn’t buying the tight, neat story. He would have pushed the issue if it weren’t for Gallal the Flirt. Whatever secret she had wasn’t for the ears of strangers.

Then he recalled that he’d met her not a week ago. Strangers was exactly what they were.

Irritated, Vale forced his mind to focus elsewhere—thinking of the war beat this. He was just wondering why his mother would have sent him here of all places when he caught a swift, unexpected change in the air.

“Devi, watch out!”

The soldiers in red and gold were on them within seconds, circling them.

Once, not so long ago, he would have taken them for high fae. Now he knew them for what they were. Corantians.

Devi drew her bow while Vale and Gallal both pulled their swords. Each passing instant seemed to last an eternity as the eleven scions approached.

The shortest one planted the sword in his hand deep in the ground, before removing his helmet. The creature truly resembled a fae in every way, but he also seemed brighter, as though an inner light illuminated him from within.

“I don’t suppose you remember me, Valerius Blackthorn.” The face was familiar; he’d seen it in Corantius. He couldn’t recall if he’d ever been told whose name belonged to it. “I was captain of the guard for you father, and his father before him. Derveran Jernel. Surrender and you have my word that your companions will be spared. I shall swear to it.”

Vale considered it for half a second, but an arrow flew, aimed right between the scion’s eyes. Looked like Devi was answering for him now. Oh well.

Derveran’s hand moved at an impossible speed, and caught it mid-flight, just as the tip of the arrowhead touched his skin.

The scion smiled maliciously, tilting his head and looking right to Devi.

“My, aren’t you delicious. Pray, bastard, do resist. I certainly would love a reason to play with your whore.”

Alright, that was enough of that. Vale drew the small knife at his belt and tossed it, accompanying the movement with a slight compulsion. The scion hesitated for one short instant, just a second. Seeing the blade approaching, the scion moved, but not fast enough this time: the knife drew a line of dark blue blood on his neck.

“You’ll find no easy target here,” Vale warned. Then, because he couldn’t lie, he had to add, “except him, maybe,” gesturing to Gallal.

“I guess we’ll find out.”

The eleven scions charged at once. Gallal had the sense to jump on the back of Devi’s dyrmount.

“Go!” he yelled, and the two steeds took off.

The mounts barely gave them an advantage: the scions were that fast. One of Vale’s hands lifted toward those at his left, farthest from him, and closest to Devi, as the other one lifted his sword to counter the blows coming his way.

Three of the scions slowed down and Devi took the opportunity to shoot at them, making one stumble, and the others take cover. Then she yelled, “Stop this!” Damn female. “Stop the fucking gallantry, I can take care of myself, and you need to stay alive.”

She wasn’t wrong.

Facing ahead, Vale urged Midnight forward with soft words. It looked as if their pursuers were finally losing some ground. Vale was just starting to breathe a little easier when a cloud of red and gold mist appeared right before them.

Dervan.

Devi's dyrmount spooked, and she was thrown off her horse. Vale leaped from his own, landing in a crouch beside her the next instant. He held two of his fingers to her throat and breathed out in relief. She had a pulse, but remained unmoving.

The flirty elf had his bow in hand and shot at the soldiers, each of his arrows hitting a mark. He was good. Not good enough. The enemies were too swift, too agile and lethal.

Still kneeling next to Devi, Valerius pulled his blade and waited, eyes closed, concentrating.

“A little help may not go amiss here!” Gallal yelled.

“In a moment,” Vale replied tightly while repeating familiar words in his mind, carefully removing every one of his shields.

Gallal didn’t seem to like his answer. “You’d let me fight alone against a dozen!” he yelled in outrage. “You faithless son of a—”

“I wouldn't go there if I were you.”

No one was insulting his mother.

At a distance, Gallal had a slight advantage with his bow, but the enemies were close now. A red and gold soldier launched at the elf, who pulled his weapon. He wasn’t half bad with a blade, but soon three other Corantians were upon him.

Then Vale regretfully pulled his hand from Devi’s throat. Her heartbeat was strong; she’d only hurt her head.

It struck him as odd that he cared. This wasn’t Vale. It was the dark prince. Vale would have expected him to abandon the female’s side without a second thought. But the prince abhorrent having to leave her.

He got up, violet eyes set on those who’d hurt her. The next instant, he lifted one hand and all scions froze, hands around their necks, attempting to unhook the invisible hands crushing their throat. But there was nothing there, nothing they could fight against. His fist tightened, and he smiled as they were close to choking. The scions gagged, desperate to breathe. Another second of this and they’d fall.

The dark prince dropped his hand, releasing them from his hold. It was too easy a death. Too neat. Too quick. They’d hurt Devi Star Rivers. For that offense, they would bleed.

The prince pulled his sword and moved faster than Vale could. His blows broke armor, slashing his enemies’ flesh at the groin, the arm, the neck. All eleven wounds he inflicted were fatal, but the scions would take a while to bleed out.

Scions were more powerful than ten fae, his mother had said, and the reason why he couldn't contradict her was because he'd never been able to explain to himself how he could move the way he did, with the power of a monster.

“Get on your knees, bastard.”

Vale turned slowly.

He hadn't felt this one slip by.

The creature had come from behind and had his arrow directly aimed at Devi.

“On your knees or your whore dies.”

“Whore?” the dark prince asked, his voice so much like Vale now, tinted with humor and delight. “I'm going to make this slow and painful. I'm going to enjoy this.”

“On your fucking—”

“Hold that thought.”

Vale's hand reached forward again, but instead of choking, his enemy screamed as his flesh burned like someone had thrown acid at his flesh.

“I'm certain you'll wish to know that this trick only works on the weak-minded. It means you're a worthless piece of shit.”

The lowlife, who’d dropped his bow and started begging now, should be thankful the dark prince had other concerns. After enjoying his torment for a few instants, Vale twisted his wrist and broke the soldier’s neck.

His little games hadn’t been without cost. His energy had taken a hit, he could feel it. If another volley of enemies fell on them now, he’d be close to defenseless.

“What was that?” Gallal questioned, looking stunned.

The dark prince ignored him and moved back to Devi, pushing her hair away from her face. Her forehead was cut, bleeding.

Bleeding blue.

He added it to the million questions he was going to ask her someday and gathered her in his arms.

“Is she all right?” Gallal stood over them, concern in his eyes.

“She hit her head and got knocked out.” Her horse had spooked, but Midnight remained where Vale had left him. He took her to the horse and started walking next to it. “Lead the way. The fastest way. There will be others on our trail.”

And this time, he wouldn’t have the strength to destroy them with his mind.

As they walked in silence, Vale realized that he hadn’t sealed the darker part of himself inside him. He’d not said the words. And yet he was in control now; he hadn’t attacked Gallal, and his every movement toward Devi had been careful, almost tender.

He considered reciting the spells just to be safe, so he didn’t hurt anyone. But something told him that he would need his baser self again before it was over.

Long ago, in another time, a friend had told him that he would have to reconcile himself with who he was—what he was—for Valerius Blackthorn would never be whole without the dark prince. At the time, he hadn’t believed it possible. But he and the prince were in agreement about something, at least. As he watched Devi, still unconscious, both of them had one thought in mind. They’d keep her safe.

Gallal led him in silence until they’d reached a glade. There was a tall polished and sculpted stone carved amidst a high tree.

Vale was surprised to see nothing around it, not a guard or a building.

“Is this your portal?”

He’d believed it to be in the middle of the city of Daryn, not standing alone in the woods.

“Indeed. And it is better protected than you may think. Even in Daryn, not all elves have seen the Tree of Worlds. Those who do not know the way will never find it. They roam in the woods forevermore.” The elf gestured him forward. “After you.”

Vale frowned. “I’ve not used a portal before.”

“And you shall not again. Walk forward if you would. You’ll be led to the winter court. You may trust that I shall send our lady to safety.”

Vale didn’t know what to make of Gallal, but that, he could believe at least.

“I thank you for your help. If I may return it, one day, I will.”

The elf inclined his head in farewell as Vale strode toward the stone, one step after the next, until he’d reached it. Then he walked forward again. The horses didn’t like it much, but they did trot next to him.

For an instant, he felt weightless as a strange light engulfed him. Then a heavy air cooled his face, cooler than the snowy wood he’d just left. When he opened his eyes, he stood at the foot of a tall, proud white hill. Unmeltable, delicate ice sculptures had been carved there, and around them were steps cut into the stone of the hill, leading up to a city surrounded by clouds. Each monument was made in shining black stone.

He’d finally arrived at Elvendale, the winter court.

“Master.”

The traitor turned to the demigod of lesser blood who'd led the attack.

“Asra has fallen. We have the seelie king in our custody, along with all his advisors. However, we've failed to secure Valerius Blackthorn.”

Rage twisted his heart when he heard the name. It had always been disgusting to his ear, but now he truly hated the unworthy bastard.

“We randomly bumped into each other and, well, bumping a little more into each other seemed like a great idea at the time,” Devi had said, smiling at him like she was happy about lying with that filth.

Rook Stormhale would gut him, cut him up piece by piece for touching what belonged to him.

“You will bring him to me, Dervan.”

Dervan frowned. “Lady Kelina said we needed him dead.”

Rook tilted his head. “Are you questioning me?”

Dervan attempted to reply, but before a word came out of his throat, he bent in two, screaming at the top of his lungs, begging for the torture to stop.

The overking might have forsaken his bastards, but he'd been generous in sharing his lethal gifts.

His hunger for pain made Rook consider ending the fool at his feet, but he recalled that Dervan was a useful tool in his arsenal. Regretfully, he let go.

The large soldier got to his feet. “I'll give the order, my prince.”

Rook directed his attention elsewhere, already bored. Once he'd ensured his work was done in the city of night, he extended his wings and flew at full speed. Reaching Corantius took him an hour. A dragon might have been twice as slow.

He could have taken the time to gaze at the lands he passed, but they were of no interest to him. Besides, he'd done that commute every dawn for half a decade now. 

Rook had spent his nights in Asra, when the court of night was awake, and his days in the court of crystal. He slept perhaps once a week. It was enough, for one of his kind.

“Hello, brother.” He hated when she called him that, and she knew it. “Pleasant surprise. I didn't expect you until dawn.”

Kelina greeted him at her balcony, wearing nothing but a bedsheet she held at her breast.

He smirked. “Asra fell in less than two hours.”

The advisor's daughter laughed. “I knew they were weak, but that's pathetic. But this is good news. You can keep me warm tonight.”

She turned on her heels and let go of the bedsheet.

“You know how screwed up you are? Calling me your brother and asking me to fuck you within ten minutes.”

The female looked over her shoulder and winked. “What should I call you, then? Pathetic little orphan my father took pity on? Bastard of the overking, thrown out to the wolves before you were even born?” she laughed. “I know. My favorite one: Prince of Worms.”

She knew what people got for calling him that. She wanted it. She wanted his rage and his pain and his suffering. He gave her just that, throwing her at the closest wall, spreading her legs, and fucking her like the hateful whore she was until they both came.

Kelina was him. She had his guts, his balls, his disgust, his violence, and powers just as formidable as his. He wished he could love her. She might have been a decent queen to the Isle.

But just as he hated himself, Rook hated her with all his dark heart. She was poison. She'd let him destroy the Isle once she was queen.

Rook had seen what it was to grow up with nothing in this accursed land. He'd crawled his way out, even when he had nothing to eat but worms.

This was why he had another queen in mind.

A beautiful creature of light with golden wings, who'd help him save the world once it was his. He'd be the pillar of strength and darkness. She would be the magnanimous light to counter it.

Just as soon as he had the reins of the entire continent in his iron fist.