Page 45 of A Trial of War
I nodded grimly.“And the scent—”I drew in a breath, tasting the air.“Iron dust. Crossbow bolts tipped for shifters and High Fae alike.”
Neera stiffened.“You’re sure?”
“As sure as I’ve ever been.”I gestured toward the far tents, where shadows moved too deliberately to be mere soldiers.“This isn’t the only camp.”
“How do you know?”
“Do you see the Aelius High Fae?”I asked.
Neera narrowed her eyes to scan the tents.“No. What does that mean, Shaw?”Her head brushed my shoulder.“We shouldn’t be this close to the camp.”
I gave a low growl of agreement.“Come on.”
We slipped back into the cover of the trees, every step deliberate, every sound swallowed by the whisper of the forest. When the first breath of river air reached us, cool and damp, I finally released a caged breath of tension.
The water shimmered in the half-light, winding between roots and stones. Shifting into my human form, I knelt at the bank, watching the ripples distort the moon. My mind raced with the layout of the land, trying to think one step ahead and figure out where the Aelius fae could be.
“They’re building for war,” I muttered. “Not defense.”
Neera knelt beside me on two legs, her voice low. “And they’re not working alone. The Heart’s magic… I can feel its power. Its influence, here.” She tapped her chest.
I nodded, recognizing the same sensation in my center.
“It flows into the land,” I said, reaching my palm to the earth. It vibrated faintly, alive with something wrong. I could feel it, the weight of stolen magic bleeding into the land.
Zola should have been back by now.
The river murmured between us, carrying the smell of rain and metal downstream. Somewhere far off, a horn sounded in warning.
A flicker of shadow moved against the moonlight, and Zola dropped from the trees, landing in a crouch so silent it hardly startled the night birds.
Her eyes found mine immediately.
“Well?” I asked, my pulse already braced for her answer.
Zola straightened. Her face was shadowed, but her voice remained steady. “There are more of them than Ithought. Two full companies. Mages, hunters, and a stronghold of garmr—”
“Garmr?” Neera asked.
“Demonic-looking hounds, with a paralyzing bite,” I said.
“There’s also a horde of harpies that appear to be at their command. The one that landed was just their scout. The rest are hiding in the eastern mountains, from what I overheard.”
She glanced toward the river, then back to me. “They’re not only building a stronghold. They’re preparing to march.”
The forest seemed to hold its breath.
“What do we do?” Neera whispered. “Skylar and Daxton need to know. They’re likely meeting with the human king right now.”
Before I could answer, a foreign pressure crawled across my senses like ice under my skin. Then it struck. A blinding, piercing screech tore through my skull, not a sound but apresence, clawing at the edges of my mind, trying to dig its way in.
I staggered, palms clamping over my ears. My magic surged on instinct, flaring outward to form a barrier around my thoughts. The noise dulled, but my vision swam. I forced a breath, blinked my eyes open, and saw Zola staring at me.
The color drained from her face as her hands shot to the daggers at her belt.
“Run!” she shouted.
Chapter Eighteen
