“Loch, you’re shivering.” Brea crouched down at his side. Smoke from the pyres curled into the air, remnants of the people who once gave this village life. They burned the bodies hours ago, but now, as the sun disappeared behind ice-covered trees, Lochlan remained.
“Go away, Brea.” He sat on the snowy ground with his knees bent and shoulders hunched forward, watching the smoke drift through the dusk to cover the village in a thick cloud.
Had it really only been the day before she sat next to Lochlan in a mud bath and felt his lips on hers?
That moment and this one didn’t belong in the same world.
Lowering herself to the snow beside him, Brea focused on the breath releasing from her mouth in long streams of steam. She was no stranger to harsh winters, having grown up in Ohio, but this was different, more pronounced. She couldn’t remember ever feeling so cold, like ice invaded her veins.
But that had little to do with the temperatures, so different from the heat of Eldur. The first leg of their journey into the Northern Vatlands, the temperatures grew progressively colder, but once they crossed the border into Iskalt, the sudden shift to epic freezing took Brea by surprise.
She’d never understand the fae world, or the magic it possessed.
Lochlan hung his head as darkness invaded the sky, and still, they remained silently side by side. He didn’t need a pep talk, or for someone to tell him to rise and return to the men camped outside the now empty village.
Wrapping her cloak tighter around herself, she leaned on her knees. Snow seeped into her riding pants, but she was past caring.
“I was four when I left Iskalt.” Lochlan’s voice carried with it all the pain of this day. “Four when my parents died, when this kingdom became nothing more than a dream to me, a some-day possibility. I always told myself I’d reclaim it one day, but while I had one-days and maybes and a warm palace in Eldur to keep me safe, real people have suffered.”
“It’s not your fault,” Brea whispered.
“Isn’t it?” He turned tortured eyes on her, shining with power as the moon rose overhead. “I should be their king, Brea. You wouldn’t understand what that means.”
“I know it means you feel guilty.”
“Guilty? That doesn’t begin to describe what I’m feeling. You are heir to the Eldurian throne, yet you do not want it. Nothing stands in your way of taking that crown once your mother relinquishes it. I am a prince with little hope of ever wearing the crown I’ve dreamed of my entire life.”
“It’s not fair. You should get to rule a kingdom, not me.”
He lifted his eyes to the smoke once more. “Fair does not matter in this world. I want to do what is right. And I’ve failed. I was too late to save them.”
“So, what are you going to do about it?”
He met her gaze. “It is done, Brea. There is nothing I can do.”
“I call bullcrap.”
“What?”
“You heard me. Sure, you can’t save this village, but how many are there in Iskalt?”
“One hundred and eleven—now ten.”
“Wow, I did not expect you to know that.” She pushed herself to her feet and looked down at him. “Then we have work to do.”
“I do not understand.”
She sighed. “You fae need everything spelled out, don’t you?”
“You’re—”
“One of you, I know. You’re like a broken record, Loch—and no I won’t explain that because we have more important things to do.”
“I already told you, this village is lost to us.”
“And it’s all your fault. Yes, I’ve heard. But there are a hundred and eight—”
“Ten.”
She waved his correction off. “—Villages in this freeze-your-butt-off kingdom. I might not be the most reliable person to say this, being that I’m an heir to two kingdoms and want to go hide in a cave, but maybe it’s time.”
“Time for what?”
“For you to do what I know you’re dying to do. Take back your kingdom.”
His mouth opened, but no words came out.
She continued. “I know. You kind of want to kiss me again right now, don’t you?”
He cleared his throat. “Brea, now isn’t the time, but I need you to know, that was a moment of desperation. I’ve been terrified since the moment the messenger arrived in Eldur telling us what was happening in Iskalt. You were just kind of—”
“There? Yeah, I get it. Two fae royals get into a mud bath. There has to be a joke in there somewhere. But Loch, this isn’t about us right now. I know you’re hurting. I know what it feels like to let people down. But just because something shakes your faith and makes you feel like the worst human being on the planet doesn’t mean it’s time to stop fighting. Maybe it’s a signal to start.”
Lochlan rose to stand in front of her, the moonlight shining off his pale hair streaked with soot. “I’m not a human being, Brea.” He turned on his heel and marched away, the snow crunching underneath his boots.
Brea stayed frozen in place, wondering how she’d failed so spectacularly in her pep talk.
Lochlan didn’t need her. It didn’t matter how good his lips felt against hers or how much she wanted to kiss him again, she wasn’t the person who should be at his side.
“Alona should be here,” she whispered. Brea didn’t know the human girl she’d been exchanged with, but what she did know was that this life belonged to her. Faolan, Tierney, the crown, Lochlan… Brea was living Alona’s life and doing it poorly.
She trudged back to camp where soldiers sat around fledgling fires barely speaking. The day had been filled with horrors, and the Eldurian warriors had to use their magic to light pyres for dead women and children.
None of them would forget what happened here.
Soldiers nodded to Brea as she passed. If they wondered why the Fargelsian princess had come, they didn’t voice the thought. One day, when she was revealed to be Eldurian, they’d know she belonged among them.
Lochlan was nowhere in sight, but Finn sat near the far edge of camp on his own in front of sputtering flames. Once night had fallen, the Eldurians could no longer use their magic to keep their fires alive.
Finn looked up as she approached, but the usual smile didn’t tilt his lips. “Dóiteán.”
“What?” She sat beside him on the blanket he perched on and leaned into him for warmth.
“It’s the Fargelsian word for fire. I know no one has taught you how to use that side of your magic, but they use words to control it.”
“Like spells.”
He shrugged. “I figured your Fargelsi power would be easy to control without the Eldurian magic tainting it at night. Worth a shot because I’m freezing my bum off here.”
Brea pursed her lips and studied the tiny flame that looked like it would die with one more big gust of wind. He was right. She might as well try. If she burned down the camp, at least they’d all be able to warm themselves near the fire.
Reaching one hand out, she let the weaker Fargelsian power pool in her fingertips. It didn’t carry the explosiveness of her Eldurian magic. “Dóiteán,” she whispered.
Nothing happened.
“Dóiteán,” she said, louder this time.
A pop cracked through the air before flames spread over the sticks. Brea and Finn scooted back to avoid being burned, but a triumphant feeling surged through Brea.
She’d done it.
Lochlan ran out of a nearby tent as the other soldiers searched for the source of the sound. When they found Finn and Brea’s fire, they rushed over, crowding around the warmth.
“I’ll be right back.” Brea went to each of the other fires, repeating that single word. By the time she’d finished, weariness overcame her. She stumbled back to where Lochlan stood across the fire from Finn.
“You shouldn’t be using your magic.” He crossed his arms. “You can’t control it.”
“I believe I just did.” She didn’t appreciate the harshness of his tone—even if he was hurting. “You could have made those fires, and you didn’t. So, somebody had to.”
He pointed to Finn. “You shouldn’t encourage her.”
“You’re right.” Finn ducked his head. “I’m sorry.”
Lochlan grunted and retreated to his tent.
“You can’t honestly believe he was right.” Brea fell to her knees and held her hands toward the flames.
Finn sighed. “He does not need me to argue with him right now.”
She settled in beside him once more. “Loch thinks this was his fault.”
He rubbed his face but didn’t respond.
“I think…” Brea sucked in a breath. “I know this is a totally illogical thought, but I can’t help thinking part of the blame for the state of Iskalt rests with me.”
Finn snorted. “Brea—”
“No, hear me out. I think… Lochlan’s parents died saving me from my aunt. They left their kingdom to bring me to the human realm, and somehow, Regan had them killed before they returned. Lochlan and Griff lost their parents, but Iskalt lost its royals. Because of me, Iskalt is now under the rule of a cruel man. And for what? So I can be some sort of weapon against my aunt? That’s why I was born, right? But I can barely control this magic.” Her voice lowered. “All this death, the horrors from this village that I will never forget, what if it was all for nothing?”
“You are not nothing, Brea. Some would say you’re everything.”
She remembered Griff telling her that same thing, but it had been another one of his devious lies.
“What would Alona do?” She bumped his shoulder. “If she were here, what would she say to Loch?”
“Alona had a much quieter strength than you.” A sad smile curved his lips.
“Are you saying I’m loud? Or pushy?”
He shook his head. “Alona and Lochlan had a friendship few could interpret. Sometimes it was like they spoke their own language, that of siblings.”
“Myles and I had that.” She smiled at the memory. They could communicate what they were feeling with a single touch or nod.
“Lochlan will always do what is right, Brea. He doesn’t need someone to tell him he must fight for his people or what his next move should be. He’s not an Eldurian villager that must be convinced to join the next campaign. Alona would have known that. Lochlan would tell her to leave him alone, but she’d join him anyway.”
“And then what?”
“She’d just be there. No speeches. No arguing.” He smirked at her.
“I don’t argue.”
He only stared at her. “Lochlan is fully capable of shouldering his own pain and that of everyone else. He’s a stubborn brute like that. But Alona wouldn’t have let him, because pain like his—a life-long struggle with duty and power—it’s enough to harden even the most joyful fae. And Alona refused to let Loch become a man of stone.”
“It sounds like she’s a good friend.”
Finn looked away. “He needs you, Brea. He will never admit it, but I’ve known from the moment I met you why.”
“Are you going to enlighten me?”
“No.” He leaned back, stretching out beside the fire and closing his eyes. “I don’t think I will.”
###
Brea didn’t know how long she stared into the flickering flames, her damp cloak finally drying as she scooted closer to the warmth.
Finn’s words ran on a constant loop through her mind. He was wrong. Lochlan needed Alona, his best friend, not her. He needed Alona like she needed Myles. Completely and without reservation.
Yet, as they camped beside a village of the dead, Alona and Myles were prisoners of the queen who made this possible. Callum O’Shea tried using Regan’s spell to create a barrier, but Iskalt magic didn’t work like Fargelsian. There were bound to be repercussions.
Brea knew hardly anything about the power, and even she knew that.
What was Callum playing at?
Had he wanted Lochlan to see this? Maybe it was a test… or a signal of more to come.
Brea sat up straighter as a thought came to her. He couldn’t have believed it would work. Iskalt was trying to draw Eldur into a war.
It was the only thing that made sense. If he performed enough atrocities on his people, Callum knew Lochlan would have to respond—probably with the might of the Eldurian army.
But there was one thing Callum didn’t know. Queen Faolan had grown into an isolationist, not wanting to send her people to fight another’s war.
Brea jumped to her feet and paced in front of the fire. She had to tell someone, but why would they listen to a girl who knew nothing of war? Back in the human world, the closest she got to battle was watching some of the men in her town join the military.
Glancing toward Lochlan’s tent nearby, she knew he’d at least hear her out. Her long strides took her to the tent, and she considered knocking, but the fae cared nothing for privacy, and she was half-convinced he wouldn’t let her in.
Pushing the tent flap aside, her eyes widened when a wave of warm air hit her. The tent was… heated?
Lochlan sat on the edge of his bed roll, his legs stretched out in front of him and his head in his hands. He didn’t move as she entered.
A light glowed from somewhere in the tent, but she couldn’t figure out the source. Its glow reflected off Lochlan’s bare chest. The man loved to be half naked—a fact Brea was not the least bit upset about.
“Loch.” Her voice was small, tentative. “How is it warm in here?”
He didn’t lift his head. “I am of Iskalt, Lady Brea.”
“Right.” His magic worked at night. She didn’t appreciate his sudden formality, but this moment wasn’t about her.
All thoughts of telling him about her suspicions flew from her mind as she stared down at him. Instead, she thought of what Finn had said. Brea would give anything to feel like Myles was with her. Maybe Lochlan felt the same about Alona.
Holding her usual word-vomit in, Brea channeled the quiet princess she’d heard so much about. Lowering herself to her knees at his side, she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him in an awkward hug.
His body stiffened, and he tried to pull away.
Brea held on tighter. “I’m here,” she whispered. “You don’t have to say anything. Today was horrible, and I get the feeling the days coming will only get worse. It’s okay to let yourself feel the pain, Loch.” She rested her chin on the heated skin of his shoulder.
His stubble scratched against her, but she didn’t move. Tonight wasn’t about the kiss they’d shared or the anger that seemed to always stand between them. This moment was an acknowledgement of two facts: nothing coming would be easy, and they were in this together as friends and allies.
His body relaxed into hers, and he buried his face in her hair. They stayed in their embrace, both taking comfort in not being alone.
The images from that day would never leave their minds, but the false Iskalt king would pay.
Just as Regan would pay for taking Alona and Myles.
“Brea,” Lochlan whispered, lifting his head.
She leaned back and met his gaze.
“It wasn’t all for nothing.”
She sucked in a breath. He’d heard what she’d said to Finn about Loch’s parents. “I—”
He pulled her back into their hug. “No. Don’t refute it. You’re the key. I’ve known it since the very first time I saw you in the human realm.”
“I may be a key, but what door do I unlock?” The one that gets her friends kidnapped by an evil queen, or the one leading to an incompetent practically-human girl sitting on the throne of Eldur?
“I guess we’ll see.”
Yes, they would. She wouldn’t have believed this a few months ago, but she and Lochlan might be on the same side. It wasn’t the side of Fargelsi or the Eldurian crown. Not the side of Iskalt or this magic they both possessed.
They would do what was right for the people they cared about—whether that was Alona and Myles or nameless villagers in a distant kingdom.
As Brea sat beside Lochlan and let him feel his pain, she no longer had to channel Alona, because she wasn’t her, and she’d made herself believe the people in this new life of hers needed Brea Robinson just as much.