“I don’t understand,” Clythia said, not pressing forward. “What happened with probing the Shadow to understand the motive of the Sovereign plan?”

Clythia wished she wasn’t asking this to end the Sovereign; she wished like Modyr, Morven, and Kay that the information would be a weapon to help out the Sovereign and end the Shadow. However, here she was, being the infiltrating enemy, the black sheep among the travelers.

“That’s for all of us to figure out elsewhere,” the faerie king’s face turned solemn. “Not here, I am not going to open that door,” he shuddered.

“So you are scared?”

His gaze fixed on her, jaw ticking. “I am not scared, but I’m done paying for the Shadow, losing more than I already have.”

“We have all paid terrible prices,” Clythia’s voice came slow. “Believe me, I understand.”

He shook his head, unconvinced.

“Try me.”

“Do you know what I sacrificed?" Modyr paused for a moment, observing her. "My ability to discern lies."

That was it? No sacrifice of a feuding clan member the Shadow held a grudge against? No spilled blood of an innocent child? No moral dilemma to choose from?

Now she was mad.

“Yours or faeries’ in general?” Clythia asked, sounding calm, in contrast with the fury boiling in her.

“Mine only. But what came after was what took the cake.” He started moving towards her; even half-naked, his movement was graceful like a king’s, akin to a calculating lover. “I was courting a faerie, and suddenly she became distant around me, right after the Shadow’s sacrifice. I asked what was wrong, if I had faulted her, but she refused to tell me.” He stopped a few feet apart from her. “But I can be a bit persuasive sometimes, and she finally confessed she has a visitor at night. An Evil.”

“What’s his name?” These days, Clythia’s mouth is sprouting its own mind, spewing words before letting her brain do the thinking. “To be careful and warn my subjects if they meet him,” she answered his unvoiced suspicion.

“I don’t know. I was angry she betrayed me. I didn’t ask,” he said. “We have been courting for twenty years. I was hoping the mating bond would finally snap between us. I couldn’t have been more wrong. Maybe it was for the best.” He averted his eyes away from Clythia’s.

“It’s hard not to fall into temptation for a being that manipulates your libido,” Clythia said. “You can’t blame her.”

His gaze returned to her; for a second, she thought he was going to storm off or spit at her justification, but his expression softened. “You are right. But it hurts. I loved her.”

“What about the others that encountered Evils?” she asked.

“I don’t know anyone else.”

“You said ‘some’ last night,” Clythia raised a brow. “Did the Shadow take your shortcoming of telling only the truth too?”

“That was not technically a lie,” a ghost of a smile appeared on his face. “Some doesn’t specify how much. It could be one or many. It’s possible it could happen to more than one person; I kept that in mind when I answered.”

“Faeries and your word games,” she muttered. “But why did you tell me then?”

His eyes roved over her figure from head to toe, landing on her lips longer before climbing up to her eyes. “To warn you. For old times’ sake, it was us and the elves who suffered the most in the Shadow’s hands, and now history is repeating itself. We need to fight back together.”

“Why didn’t Zahar join us? Do you know anything?” Clythia asked, her heart thundering—unnerved by the passion dancing in the faerie king’s eyes, fretting that any moment Tiyus would do something embarrassing to her, and target Modyr too.

“I don’t know,” he shook his head. “What about you, Witch Queen?”

“What about me, what?”

“What did you sacrifice to the Shadow?”

How could she make the interest in his eyes wink out of existence? By narrating the response in the most gruesome way that could make him despise her for cruelty—an exaggerated truth with a sprinkle of a lie.

“The Shadow required I slaughter a baby, and I did that. The parents didn’t know; I never told them because I stole it when they weren’t around. For a generous bonus, I threw the bones and flesh of the child alongside its blood, extending the covenant for six more months.”

Horror was conquering the Modyr’s features. Good, it was working. “And I didn’t regret doing so. The only thing I regret is that I haven’t added other babies to extend the use of magic. I hate the three times a day rule,” she shrugged, feigning annoyance. “I even looked for ways to do that, but there were none that I know of.”

Modyr was rendered speechless, his horror turning to a frown. And she saw this as an opportunity.

“If you are crying because of a broken heart, and a gift that you used scarcely to not open the door, what kind of man are you? I am willing to face the Shadow after it made me do that, remember I did it being a mother myself. But I have an obligation to my kingdom, to keep it safe in the way I see fit,” she gained a step on him, smiling sheepishly. “Are you afraid to face the Shadow behind the door, when I’m not?”

The comparison she laid out was a gendered one, and given the look on Modyr’s face, it wasn’t lost in translation. The limited rights of faerie females, deemed unfit to rule and possibly other things, were probably due to perceived weakness and a lack of guts to make critical decisions.

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

Clythia was hoping he would take the bait of her request. She hoped that he could see the lengths she was going to save her kingdom, no matter the cost, which might challenge his masculinity. She wanted him to be ashamed of his petty reasons, which he might expect would belong to a woman.

Because this behavior didn’t only belong in the faerie land. Din harbored similar beliefs too; he was annoyed that she usually didn’t fall into his typical female stereotype, crying and laughing over mediocre things. He was pissed that the only uncontrolled trait she had was rage, like a man, as he would put it; the way she calculated when making decisions unnerved him too. Thus, burying those shards in her skin was his way of silencing her, turning her into a docile dove instead of a soaring eagle.

Modyr's face was transparent enough, the insinuations she laid out turning and reeling the gear of his mind, Clythia only hoped when he opened his mouth he would be petty enough to stoop low as proving his masculinity.

“What you did is disgusting, truly,” he said grimly. “But I understand. As a ruler, we don’t have the luxury to choose from pretty moral scales. I admire your gut for it. However, my decision is final. I am not going to open that door. I am done with the Shadow. I will find other ways in Stormia.”

Not the response she was expecting, she had to try other means then.

“What if I opened it, instead?”

“Absolutely not! I am not going to risk your life in my land,” the faerie roared. “We will find other ways in Stormia.”

“Why do you care about my life?” Clythia snapped back. “I am doing this to return the peace of my kingdom, the prosperity of my kingdom. I have made mistakes by bending a knee to the Shadow, but I have to rectify those mistakes.”

“Me too,” he said through clenched teeth, almond eyes fixing her down. “But let’s not jump onto the first opportunity we get; that’s what got us into this mess in the first place. Morven was right; it would take you a while to agree.”

“You all decided this behind my back?”

“Me and Morven stayed late and talked, and I made him see reason, which he will do, I hope, with Glythia too.”

“You haven’t answered my first question,” she said quietly.

His chin twitched before he doused himself in serenity. “Fill your belly; we have a long journey ahead.”

Breakfast was as quiet as it could get, save for the clanking of forks, knives, and spoons, as they nibbled on fruits and vegetables, grains, and legumes on their plates.

When Modyr joined them at the head seat, thankfully, he was in decent clothing, a red robe with a golden chiton beneath.

Notably, the werewolves were beside the humans, distancing themselves from the sorcerers. Their king, Glythia, was sitting at the other side of the table from where Clythia sat, not even glancing once in her direction.

“I’m not going to last an hour after eating this,” Morven grumbled, chewing.

“Then you should have brought your own food,” the faerie said.

In that regard, Clythia and her companions were prepared, food undecayed by the help of magic was stored in their rings. What they ate on Neut Island was barely the scrap of what they had in store.

“Haven’t you brought your blood sack?” Glythia asked, her blue eyes assessing him.

“I have, but 1 pint of blood can keep me alive for two years. I carried the sack in case I got stranded in an unlikely situation. One or two trips to the skies teach you that,” Morven said.

The humans were looking at the vampire with disgust, who was oblivious to their scrutiny. Their king seemingly focused on his meal, yet Clythia would bet he was listening to every word spoken.

A smirk rose on Clythia’s lips. “Is it human blood?”

“Clearly, otherwise I’m not going to last. 1 pint of a bull’s blood will only last me three months,” Morven replied with a shrug.

The three humans cheeks turned crimson, while Kay only gave one glance at the vampire and continued with his meal. That was unsurprising; the rulers meet every fifteen years, hence the vampire’s diet is no big news for Kay. And Clythia had a feeling that even if it was, he had the guts to process it, and even knew more facts about it than anyone credited him for.

“I wouldn’t guarantee your ship won’t be stolen if you don’t have someone to keep an eye on it,” Modyr said.

“No worries, it is in good hands,” the vampire said.

Clythia sighed, craning her neck to see Afia, who was standing against the walls with other servants.

Afia’s mouth moved in a justifying gesture, golden eyes akin to a begging puppy, saying, “Mimi.”

Clythia rolled her eyes. Though she knew there was no way Morven would let his puppy be inside a ring without its comfortable doghouse, he had asked Afia to keep Mimi and his ship in her ring, and Afia had complied—for the sake of the poisonous feelings she was harboring for the animated corpse.

They were quiet for a while until Glythia mentioned what had happened to the plan of paying the Shadow a visit, surprising Clythia with how long it took him to ask. Then Morven explained the unpredictability of the attempt, which the werewolf was inclined to agree with very quickly.

“Why am I not surprised?” Kay gritted out, glaring at the faerie. “It’s an idea coming from a human, so why not ignore it altogether?”

“For what it’s worth, I was on board with the plan too. I have tried to convince him.” She cast Modyr a blank look that conveyed disappointment.

Modyr didn't dignify her comment with an answer, and Kay only shook his head and gobbled down his wine.

After they and their fellow servants were well fed, they followed Modyr to a cobblestone path behind the castle.

“Are you going to leave the faeries we left behind in the woods?” Glythia asked.

Modyr snorted. “We wouldn’t be leaving if they haven't arrived.”

Their path gave way to greenery on either side, more free-form and not as aligned as those at the castle. Their feet trudged forward on the muddy trail formed by previous footsteps. The sun’s rays were torching down from the blue sky, occasionally reaching them, as they were shielded by the green tapestry. The smell of humidity and decaying leaves wafted through Clythia’s nose.

Nature was the only thing speaking around them: the crunching of leaves under their shoes, birds chirping and flapping their wings, squirrels and hedgehogs darting up trees, scratching barks with their tiny pointed nails.

The three faeries were waiting for them at a cave opening draped with leaves and vines. Clythia could only make out the darkness that awaited inside.

When they approached them, they bent their knees to Modyr. "You are late.", he said in a regal tone.

"We used the underground tunnels and some faeries weren't kind to us." Rave replied, slowly rolling his emerald eyes up to see his king. "we had to fight them off to arrive even this late."

There were underground tunnels in the forest near the ocean, the same forest they were exhausted to walk through on foot? Interesting. Otherwise, there was no way the fairies arrived in a span of one night if there wasn’t a shortcut. Some part of Clythia suspected they wouldn’t have taken that route if the travelers had stuck with them. They wouldn’t be foolish enough to reveal short paths to foreigners who could potentially be enemies.

There was a red line traversing Rave’s arm, a bruise on the lips of the tallest faerie, and fabric coiled around the third faerie’s arms. Their scale like armor was dented and chipped some places too. Modyr observed the three guards with an expressionless face.

He wasn’t the same faerie she talked to in the garden, the same faerie who showed a flicker of interest in his eyes before she doused it out with cruel images of her deeds. He was the king who had the guts to mete out what she had done and even more, how she got that from just looking at him, she had no idea. However, it wasn’t only her; the three faeries in the mud were trembling at the sight of him.

Literally trembling.

Modyr flicked his finger and they rose to their feet. He turned his gaze to those who followed him, scanning each one of them before resting it on Clythia as he spoke.

“You have come this far, but it isn’t too late to turn back,” he said, giving a dry smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “When we get out of this cave, Stormia awaits us. And from the legends and stories we have heard, its quite dangerous. It's true we dislike each other,” he averted his eyes from hers and landed on someone behind her before meeting her gaze again, “but we need to work together to survive. From now on, it’s us against Stormia.”

He turned and ducked his head low in the cave, and they followed him one by one.