Fires of War (War and Deceit #4) - Erin O'Kane Page 0,132

towards them, I place a hand on Eldrin’s shoulder, looking at the glowing form of the Mother. “Then you blessed us?”

“That was not me, my beloved, but another. However, that is not why I have come to you.” She sounds apologetic, and I know she wants to tell me more, but as she releases Eldrin, her form flickers. I feel a fluctuation of magic in the air. We don’t have much time before she runs out of magic.

Another? I ask myself. Who could she mean? Another god? I want to pepper her with questions until she gives me the answers I seek. Is she suggesting that Eldrin and I were blessed by a different god? So were we always fated to be together anyway? Looking at Eldrin, I feel my love for him course through my body, and I find myself wondering if it really matters.

Taking a deep breath, I focus on the task at hand, guessing why she’s appeared to me tonight. “The darkness.”

Nodding, she clasps her hands in front of her. “I would come to you in full form, but I am still weak and being blocked by another. I am beginning to suspect one of my siblings is involved in all this.”

“You mean another god?” I ask with surprise, swapping looks with Eldrin. This is the second mention of ‘another,’ and now she thinks her siblings may be involved. Does she believe they are behind the dark magic, or blocking her powers? Foreboding fills me. Dark magic, forsaken armies, and evil queens are one thing, but how do we fight a god?

“Yes, but leave them to me. If they are involved, I can’t do much to help on land, but you have your army behind you,” she explains, her voice hard. I’ve not heard her speak like this before, but she’s protective of us and angry that one of her siblings could be messing with her subjects. “It is time.” Her words both thrill and terrify me as Eldrin reaches out and threads his fingers through mine, joining our hands. “You march to Galandell in the morning.”

The forest is not happy. Even without spreading my awareness, I can feel its displeasure at having so many denizens traipsing through it, but unfortunately, it’s the only way the army can get to Galandell.

The elves are light on their feet, and even the sea and high elves seem to have a deep respect for nature. That respect, it seems, is not shared by the humans or tribesmen. I don’t believe they mean to be disrespectful as they tramp loudly through the undergrowth and crush the delicate wildflowers under their boots, they just seem to be oblivious, unaware of the beauty and life around them.

The other fae are travelling with us but at a distance, disturbed by the presence of the wagons and so many humans and tribespeople. Over the last several weeks, more people have joined us. Most were magicians sent by Pierre, but some were humans who had heard about my standoff with the king, guards who had worked in the castle. When I spoke with them, they said Wilson told them where they could find me. I don’t know how they managed the long journey, and I worry for those who will arrive after we’ve already left, but I have to trust that Wilson won’t send anyone who can’t handle the travel.

So far, the humans who have joined us have been wary but tolerant of the elves. The two groups have mostly kept to themselves, but I haven’t had to step in and break up any fights like I previously feared.

I’ve been spending more time with the sea elves. Their quiet and gentle nature appeals to me, however, I’ve watched them in training—they are lethal. The spears and fishhooks they use are wickedly sharp, and their aim is deadly. Combine that with being quick on their feet and having incredibly strong upper bodies, and they are not a foe to be trifled with. Eldrin learned this the hard way one morning in camp before we marched, thinking them an easy target. He earned himself a thwack on the head and a bruised ego. Since then, he’s trained with them daily, enjoying the challenge, even learning to wield their fishhooks.

“Beloved.” Blinking from my deep thoughts, I turn to the voice, finding one of the young mages leading his horse towards me, and I have to fight my groan.

“Five,” Naril whispers conspiratorially, smiling smugly at me. Tor and Vaeril chuckle,