Page 109 of A Dance with the Fae Prince (Married to Magic 2)
Chapter 31
Dreamsong isnothing more than a charred husk. I’m reminded of the smoldering embers of a fireplace, shining like angry stars, glowing with vengeful heat, sparking flames to consume whatever fuel still remains. I think I’ve left my body for a second, because I don’t realize that Giles is shaking me until the third time he calls my name. “Katria.”
“They burned it, all of it.” All that magnificent craftsmanship, gone up in flames. Even if the fae can make things quickly with rituals, it’s still a tragedy. Then my thoughts go to the people and my mind comes to a screeching halt. I spin toward Giles and grab him by both shoulders. “The people—”
“I know.” He knocks my hands away. The smoldering remains of the city are alight in his eyes. The city…his home. “But I don’t see very many bodies in the streets.”
We clearly have different definitions of “very many bodies” but I say nothing.
“Which means that our plan worked.”
“Plan?” I repeat, still staring over the wreckage. The Natural World has known nothing but peace for centuries. Sure, on occasion, squabbles arise. But nothing major. Nothing like this.
The fae had told me from the start of the horrors the Boltovs could wreak. But I’d failed to comprehend it. I never thought anyone capable of this level of destruction and disregard for life…even with magic at their disposal.
“Yes, remember the tunnel?”
My thoughts begin to coalesce again. “The tunnel…but we didn’t finish it.”
“Vena saw it was completed when all were distracted by the autumnal celebrations. She was worried about the increasing probability of an attack ever since Davien and the magic returned.” Giles begins to head back into the forest, eyes darting around warily. “The plan was that the soldiers and guards would stay to defend the city, holding off whatever Boltov threw at us for as long as possible, while the civilians escaped to the mountain.”
I can no longer see Dreamsong, but the sight of the streets, red with fire and blood, is seared on my mind. I think of those people, staying behind so that others might have a chance at life. The sight, the thought, will likely haunt me for years in ways that I can’t possibly comprehend now, not when my focus remains on my own survival.
Giles heads left toward the mountains, bypassing the horse.
“We’re leaving the stallion?”
“It risks too much attention, and we can’t bring it under the mountain,” he says.
“Right. How many people knew about the tunnel?” We hadn’t exactly been keeping it a secret while working on it.
“I’m not sure. I wasn’t that high up in the ranks.”
“But…everyone had to know, right? So they knew what to do in case of an attack?” I bite my lip, unable to shake a clammy, sickening sensation that’s wrapping my spine.
“Unless they were informed only when the attack was happening, instructed to follow orders and nothing more.” Giles glances at me as he leads us around Dreamsong toward the mountains. I get glimpses of their frosted peaks through the dark canopy, reflecting the angry fires below. “What are you getting at?”
“What if Allor knew?” I whisper.
He spins in place, staring at me with wide eyes. “You don’t think…” he breathes. “But she… Shaye would have come back and warned them.”
“I don’t know,” I say weakly. “I never saw what happened with them and she wasn’t among the Butchers who attacked Davien and me at the lake. I don’t know what happened to Shaye.”
Without another word, Giles sprints toward the mountains. I follow behind through the dense forest. The usual motes of light that bed down on the mosses are gone, casting everything in menacing shadow. It is as if life is slowly being sucked out of the world wherever Boltov touches.
“Giles,” I hiss as my ears pick up on the sounds of distant fighting. He keeps running. He’s going to run headfirst into what’s surely a trap. I grab his wrist, digging my heels into the soft earth. Giles turns his panicked eyes to me. “Listen.”
His eyes only grow wider as he hears what I have been—shouting, laughter, grunting, and crying. Not the sounds of people enjoying a reprieve.
“No,” he breathes. I watch as the hope leaves his eyes, darkening his expression further.
“We go slow. We have to stay hidden,” I whisper.
He nods.
Firelight begins to glint through the trees, the dancing flames shimmering on the sheer faces of the mountain not far from where Giles, Oren, Davien and I were working on the tunnel. As we grow nearer, the voices grow clearer.
“Your king wants you alive. So no one put up a fight,” a man sneers.
