good faith, Mother, but now we must see if the people will forgive you. We must see if they still want to be led by you. That is our way, as you well know. The punishment will fit the crime, and the people will decide how severe that crime was. It is they who have been beguiled, after all.”
Charity stood, struck mute. She had no idea, in coming here, that this would happen. That she would, single-handedly, uncover old wounds and deep secrets. That she might be responsible for the upheaval of the guardians, or even pulling her father out of the Flush.
“When you find your true home, you will know it. And with that home you must stay so that others of your kind will stay with you.”
It was all so clear now. This had been her job all along. This had been her duty. She was tasked with goading the guardians—the warrior fae—out of the Flush so that they would join the magical world once again. Maybe her grandmama’s fate was to grow back the numbers, and now, teamed with the shifters, perhaps they could sustain them. But regardless, Charity was the catalyst to push them toward their true purpose. And Devon had been Charity’s tool in doing so. He’d shielded her when she was weak, and then pushed her to action when she was strong. They were working as a team, even now.
Devon was her true home, and she’d be damned if she’d lose it.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
“We’ve got incoming, Second,” Halvor said, fitted expertly in the middle of their small group as they traveled the wide, manicured path through what Emery had described as a highway through the dead center of the Realm. The place everyone who was anyone walked.
Until now, he’d only set foot there once, before he was banned from the Realm.
Three lithe creatures walked toward them, practically dancing along the path. Their arms swished one way, their toes flipped a little when they raised their feet, and their hair flared out behind them without any wind. Elves. If a children’s parade had followed behind them, complete with dragons and unicorns, it wouldn’t have seemed out of place.
“They are sojets, nothing more,” Romulus said softly.
“What are so-jets?” Charity hadn’t quite gotten the sounds right.
“Elf foot soldiers,” Halvor said. “Armed for battle, but fairly stupid. They follow directions to the letter, but aren’t trusted with important information. Killing them is forgivable. Shows great prowess.”
“Not anymore,” Emery said, slipping past Hallen and Kairi, who walked to Charity’s left, and into the middle of the group with Halvor. “Kill one of them, and their kind will kill your whole family.”
“Nonsense,” Romulus said pleasantly. His tense and ready body said his mood wouldn’t hinder his vicious reaction should one of these things attack. “They wouldn’t be able to kill my family. Mother may be getting up in years, but she can wield a knife better than Halvor. She’d have them split from neck to navel before they uttered a syllable.”
A grin pulled at Emery’s lips.
The rest of the guardians spread out, covering the path and ensuring their presence was known. Not that anyone could mistake them. Eleven of Romulus’s guard had set out with them, including Halvor—assistants, basket weavers, and table makers turned fighting machines in their loose pants, snug shirts, and the leather bands around their middles. It was the same outfit the Red Prophet had first dressed Charity in. The rest had stayed behind. For now, the First was still in charge, but she was being held accountable for her actions. She would get time to explain herself. To open up the not-often-talked-about history that led to those decisions. She’d hope to win back trust.
While that was happening, Romulus would get a better idea of what was happening in the outside world. He’d get an idea of the next steps, so when he went back, they could formulate a plan.
Kairi and Hallen had been sent along with Charity. Hallen was a little sullen, but he hadn’t mentioned his black eye.
“Protocol?” Halvor asked Romulus softly.
Unlike the shifter formation, the leader here took front and center, advertising his status. The most vicious, advanced fighter of the pack hid in the middle, the place usually reserved for vulnerable people.
The guardians had no vulnerable people. Or so Halvor had said when Charity mentioned the shifter way.
Halvor was the secret weapon, as it were, and would explode out to attack anyone stupid enough to threaten the group. Charity had seen him in action