Page 49 of FoolSilver
Across the clearing, Aelindor murmured something in the ancient Fae tongue to his companion, his gaze cutting briefly in my direction. His face was unreadable, carved from something cold and deliberate. Then they turned together and made to leave.
I was already on my feet, and I didn’t remember standing.
My teeth sank into my inner lip. The sting helped. It kept me present, kept me from shaking.
Then, as if just remembering who he’d left behind, Aelindor turned back. The shift was instant, his openness vanishing, his warmth guarded.
I kept my face blank as I met his eyes. Whatever he’d just learned, I’d deal with the fallout. I wouldn’t let my own insecurity undo me, not while my heart was quietly cracking and anxiety coiled through my ribs like a second skeleton.
Holding myself together under pressure was practically my primary skill set.
“Something came up, Max.” Aelindor’s tone was careful. His eyes had always carried affection for me. Now a sliver of ice replaced it. “We’ll have to end the session here.”
“Of course, sir.” The formality snapped into place automatically, the way it always did when the ground shifted and I needed something solid to stand on. “You don’t need to worry about me.”
Straight spine. Hands loose at my sides. The version of me that didn’t need anything from anyone.
He didn’t correct me this time. Didn’t tell me to call him Aelindor—not in front of her. Whoever she was, she was close to him, important to him. That much was obvious.
“Frost will arrange your continued training,” Aelindor said. “He’ll explain the details.” A pause—brief, weighted. “This isn’t finished, Max.”
I let the breath out slowly through my nose. The training was continuing. Whatever Aelindor had just learned about me hadn’t been enough to pull the mission off the table—Missy’s extraction was still on.
“Of course, sir.”
Aelindor left with the Fae woman. I didn’t watch them go. I fixed my gaze on the lake instead, on the wind moving across its silver surface in quiet ripples and then going still.
Frost’sfootsteps came up behind me.
“We’ll go for a ride before your next session,” he said. “Tour the northwest territory first, then Elenmoor.”
He didn’t want me distracting Aelindor and his companion. The ride was his way of handling it.
“Thank you, Major,” I said.
Frost drove me through the western sector, and I filed away everything I saw.
Fae territory.
The encampment sprawled along the northwestern forest edge—structures of stone and living wood that looked grown rather than built. Fae warriors moved between the buildings with the quiet precision of soldiers who had been drilling for centuries.
“Each heir commands his own force,” Frost said, navigating along a packed-earth road that wound between the outbuildings. “Prince Aelindor leads Fae and mages, primarily. The northwest perimeter is ours.” He gestured east as we came around a curve. “The vampire army holds the northeast. Shifters in the southeast. Drakken’s hybrids at the south gate.”
I’d known the outline of it—any cadet who’d paid attention during orientation knew the outline—but seeing the scale from the ground was something else entirely. Four separate armies sharing one fortress. Four separate command structures operating as a single body, forged into alliance by the four heirs and held together by their loyalty to each other.
We passed the officer buildings near the northern watchtower, a long row of barracks stretching behind them. Frost turned south and looped back toward the western edge of the compound.
“From this point on, you won’t be attending regular classes,” he said. “Prince Aelindor’s orders. Extensive training, structured around you specifically.”
I kept my eyes forward. No complaints. Rigorous preparation was exactly what I needed—every hour I got stronger was an hour closer to walking into the Haven and walking back out with Missy. I held on to that. I didn’t let myself examine the cold that had crawled up my spine when Aelindor’s expression shifted.
Frost pulled up in front of Elenmoor, which from this angle looked less like a private home and more like a government mansion. The western wing ran long and low, tall windows catching the light. The eastern wing disappeared behind ancient trees.
He walked me through the first floor: a dining hall with a long oak table that could seat twenty, a room walled floor-to-ceiling with more books than I’d seen outside the academy library, a map room papered with charts of all four territories.
At the end of the corridor, Frost opened a door into a smaller dining room—round table for four, upholstered chairs, south-facing windows letting in the quiet of late morning. A credenza held coffee, tea, sandwiches, fruit.
“Help yourself, Max,” Frost said.
