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The king steps back, gesturing toward the now-active portal. “This one exits near the border of the Dark Sithe. We are expected, but it is up to us to make it to the gates.”
I study the portal, taking in the shadowy image beyond. The forest floor appears tangled with thorns and moss, lit by the watery sheen of distant moonlight. Nothing about it appears welcoming.
In fact, everything about it screams danger.
My hand drifts to the knife at my belt. “Are we expecting opposition?”
“No, but neither will they send an escort,” Theron replies. “Not even for a king.”
I frown at that. “Doesn’t the Dark Sithe have an established mirror walker? That’s why you have a Dark fae healer here, right?”
At least, I think that’s what Healer Nyt’Fall had meant when he told me he was at the Silver Spire as a political hostage while he pretended to heal the stab wound in my chest.
Surprise breaks through Theron’s composure. “We had one, but the exchange ended after your last visit here. Re-establishing the exchange will be part of my negotiations with King Nyctarian.”
“Ah.” So that’s why Caelan refused to have his injuries seen to. The foolish prince could have just told me they didn’t have a healer. “And the Dark Spire has no reflective surfaces?”
“It has many,” Theron says. “But King Nyctarian would take their use as a declaration of war. One does not invade another ruler’s domain uninvited.”
“So forcing you to walk to the gate is some kind of dick-measuring contest to humble you?”
“To be blunt, yes.” He gestures to the mirror. “We should head out now if we wish to gain the gate before nightfall.”
I remember the screams of alien creatures when I was caught out after sunset with the twins, and we took shelter. I may be used to handling monsters, but that doesn’t mean I want to be caught by them in the fae realm. Their chameleons are as big as dragons here. I’d rather not discover what else they have.
I glance over my shoulder, half-expecting to see Caelan standing in the doorway, coming to say goodbye. But the archway remains empty, and the room beyond is silent.
Of course, he didn’t follow me here. That was the whole point. He’s staying to anchor their sithe while we chase after his missing twin.
Still, my chest tightens at his absence.
I turn back to Theron and eye the mirrored doorway. It buzzes with power, a subtle vibration that raises the fine hairs on my arms and sets my teeth aching. The moonstone pulses in response, growing warm in the hollow of my throat.
“Once we’re through, we should move fast and silent,” Theron says, his eyes flicking to the stone. “We do not want to draw attention.”
“What kind of attention?” I ask, now regretting leaving my steel bat behind.
“The unwanted kind.” Thalindor checks the sword at his hip. “The Dark Sithe has many factions, and not all support the current king.”
“Do they have a choice?” Based on what Caelan explained about sithes, they can’t kill King Nyctarian.
“The Dark are blessed with many princes and potential princesses,” Theron explains. “Even if one of them did not bloom into a King or Queen with Nyctarian’s death, enough remain to keep the sithe from dissolving.”
Great. Political intrigue on top of everything else.
I roll my shoulders, loosening muscles that tensed when I stepped into this chamber. I’ve done a lot of reckless things in my life. Walking into a debauched sithe with an unwanted king ranks high on the list.
“Will the moonstone alert us to Elionn’s presence as soon as we cross?” I ask, finger tracing the rounded edges of the gem.
Theron’s focus drops to my throat. “The sithean stone will strengthen the closer we are to Elionn.”
“And if it goes silent?” The question slips out before I can stop it.
The king doesn’t react, but whatever warmth remained in him drains away until he resembles stone. “Then we pray to the moon it is because of distance, not death.”
Thalindor steps toward the portal, hand on the hilt of his sword. “I will go first, Your Majesty.”
Theron nods. “The mercenary will follow. I will come last to seal our passage.”
