Keeper of Storms (The Fallen Fae #3) - Jenna Wolfhart Page 0,62

Her thirst for vengeance had blinded her to anything else. She didn’t care who she hurt, who she killed. Just so long as she could wrap her fingers around Aengus’s neck and choke the life out of him.

Growling, Thane whirled away from her and charged toward the city. Warriors had begun to spill from the gates, rushing out into the battle. Swords slashed through the air. Steel rang as blood painted the ground. Thane cursed beneath his breath as he pounded his feet. Aengus was as bloodthirsty as Thane’s aunt. He should have kept his fighters inside, behind the wall, where it was safe.

He had to try to get inside. He had to let them see him.

His only hope was that Aengus had hid the truth from them. These warriors might think they were fighting against an enemy court, instead of raising their swords at their king. He had to get in the gates. He had to stop this.

Steel whistled by his head. Thane dodged away from the blow and brought up his own sword. The blade slammed hard into his, knocking him back several feet. The warrior loomed over him, tall and corded with muscle, the gold-dyed armor barely fitting his frame.

Thane faced him, squaring off. “Put down your weapon. I am your High King.”

The warrior stilled. His eyes widened when he caught sight of Thane’s distinctive tattoo. Uncertainty rippled across his face. “Our High King is dead.”

“I’m standing right before you.” Thane spread his arms wide, loosening the grip on his steel. “The Grand Alderman has weaved falsehoods. He is a pretender who has stolen the throne. We never wanted to attack this city, but he forced our hand. Lower your weapon…what’s your name?”

The warrior dropped his weapon and knelt. He bowed his head before Thane. “I’m so sorry, Your Highness. I had no idea. I—”

A sword sliced through the warrior’s neck. The air fae fell, his eyes vacant and wide. Blood painted the ground by Thane’s feet. Iona stepped up behind him, her eyes flashing. “Don’t make me kill you, nephew. Some might care about the curse, but I don’t.”

“I can’t believe you,” he murmured, biting back the urge to throttle her in front of the entirety of the Sea Court army. “That fae was kneeling before me. He surrendered.”

“I don’t care,” she hissed, stalking toward him. “Don’t you get it, Thane? I don’t care about the bloody air fae! Your court took my sister and made her life a living hell. That creature she was bound to treated her like dirt. And now she’s dead, all because my father forced her to marry into this hellhole of a court. Air fae surrender is not an option. We will raze this city to the ground and take the throne as ours. You can either join us, or I’ll cut you down myself.”

Thane ground his teeth together, tightening the grip on his sword. He cut his eyes toward the city. The sea and ice fae warriors were already streaming through the gates. Plumes of spoke drifted into the sky while flickers of orange leapt across the grass rooftops. If Thane did not find a way to stop this, the city would burn to the ground. Innocent blood would spill.

He turned back toward Iona, his resolve tightening in his gut. “I will not fight against my own people.”

Iona’s lips curled as she laughed. “Oh, nephew. You’ve made the wrong choice. This is what you don’t understand. I am your people. You’re a sea fae. You were never meant for these lands. If you were truly meant to rule, you never would have run.”

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” he argued. “For all of them.”

For Eislyn.

He’d realized his mistake, but far too late. If he had stood his ground and returned to Tairngire instead of setting sail for Gorias, none of this would have ever happened.

Or maybe it would have.

Iona had mentioned it time and time again. The Sea Court had clung to silence, biding their time as they built their ships and trained their army. If Thane’s mother had failed to secure the court as her own, the Sea Court had always planned to invade just like this.

Thane was inconsequential to them. And now he was nothing more than a pesky fly they needed to swat away.

Iona sneered as she stalked toward him. “Well, you’ve made your bed, nephew. You must lie in it.”

Narrowing his eyes, he planted his feet, readying himself for her attack. “This is