Page 25 of FoolSilver
The Coldiron had named someone theFalse Heir—nothing more. No name, no history, only that cold metallic whisper of a title. This heir could bend Coldiron, force it to obey through brutal will. His command was pain.
Aelindor’s gaze turned sharp. A blade wrapped in silk.
“Is that archdemon—the one who fired Coldiron arrows at me on the train—is he the heir?” His voice might have sounded calm, but it was the calm of a frozen lake.
I shook my head, careful to offer nothing more. I had no intention of diving deeper into what the Coldiron had said about a true heir and a false one. That path led to questions I couldn’t answer, to truths squirming inside me that I refused to let anyone touch. Revealing more than I already had would only heap doubt and suspicion onto my shoulders, and Drakken’s were already bowed under the weight of his own.
“Coldiron called that being the false heir,” I said. “I don’t know why that title, and I have no more information than that. But I believe the false heir is more powerful than the archdemon on the train. That one shot you with Coldiron arrows, but he couldn’t trulycommandthe metal. That’s why I beat him. I believe the two arrows were forged by this heir. But Coldiron doesn’t belong to him. He forced the metal to obey. It’s a violation, sirs.” My voice roughened, anger bleeding through. “I can counter him. I can beat him, as far as Coldiron is concerned.”
I drew a breath and felt the ache behind my ribs sharpen. “If I stay here, I can reinforce the defense at this border.” The thought of being separated from them dug into me like a hook. Their posts were at the fortress, thousands of miles away. Butthis was war. My personal needs didn’t matter. I set my jaw until it hurt. “But I need to get my sister back first. Missy’s safety is my priority. When my little sister is safe, I’ll station here permanently if that’s what’s required of me.”
The three princes traded a glance, silent conversation passing between them as they weighed everything I’d spewed out.
“Your place is with us, Max,” Caspian said, his voice fierce. “And wewillget Missy back to you.”
“You will not dive headfirst into any situation without permission, Cadet Max.” Drakken stepped forward. “You’re a soldier first. Do you understand me?”
I understood that he was making my head spin.
“And you will not pull a stunt like this again,” he continued. “Charging into an unknown hostile environment without backup, without clearance, without so much as a?—”
“Will youstopbarking at her?” Caspian shot to his feet, his green eyes blazing. “Give her a fucking break. We just walked out of Hell.”
“Coddling her will only get her killed,” Drakken snapped, not backing down an inch.
“Enough.” Aelindor raised a hand. One word, one lifted palm, and both of them fell silent. “We’ll debrief this properly. But right now?—”
The ground trembled, a deep, rolling shudder I knew all too well. A decade underground in the mines of Crimson Ridge had carved that particular terror into my bones: the lurch of stone beneath your feet, the brief, sickening weightlessness before everything came crashing down.
But there were no mines here. No shafts, no tunnels, no honeycomb of hollowed earth waiting to swallow us whole.
A heartbeat later, the realization hit, colder and sharper than any cave-in.
This wasn’t a quake.
It was violence.
Chapter 10
Max
“Wild horses,” Caspian said, dropping to one knee and pressing his palm to the trembling earth. His ears pricked. The wolf read ground vibrations like a spider reads its web. “No. Mutants. A horde of them, running in formation. Coming from the south, the Haven.”
“They’ve broken through the southern border,” Aelindor said. His voice sank to a deadly quiet register.
The three heirs placed themselves in front of me. No discussion. No glance exchanged. Their bodies simply rearranged into three walls of muscle and power, a barrier between me and whatever charged toward us.
Caspian shifted to his warrior form. His body expanded, dark fur erupting over his shoulders and forearms, his green eyes drowning in silver. When the shift finished, he stood nearly nine feet tall. Claws the length of daggers. Jaws that could bite through iron.
“Mutants coming!” His voice was a bass growl.
“Messengers! Inform the outpost and villages,” Aelindor ordered.
Two jeeps roared to life and tore away, Stormglass headlamps cutting the gray dawn.
“Spartans! Battle ready!” Drakken bellowed.
A dark wave crested the southern horizon. It surged toward us, a storm of teeth and claws, black bodies and matted fur, red eyes holding nothing but hunger.
