The shadows surrounding Tristan flickered and dissipated as quickly as they appeared. “My father needs to be told.”
“Not yet,” said Penelope, expelling a relieved breath as Tristan calmed himself. “At the moment it is better we keep this information to ourselves. Morgana thinks he is insignificant, and I would like to keep it that way. It is better that no one knows who he really is, or his life will be in danger because of the magic that he may or may not possess.”
Tristan nodded. “Where is he now?”
“In Eldoren with Rafael,” said Penelope.
Swirls of silver started to form around the edges of Tristan’s twilight irises.
I quickly tried to change the subject. Tristan’s mood went from surly to downright dangerous whenever Rafe’s name was mentioned, and I needed him to be cooperative right now. “So, how do we organize a meeting with Darius Detori?”
“I will set it up,” said Penelope. She turned to the fae prince. “Tristan, can you find out where those arrows came from?”
“I will make inquiries,” Tristan replied abruptly, and left the room.
Penelope sighed and sat down on the window seat. “Once we get to Sanria, we will be able to better assess the situation. Santino’s spy network is even more intricate than mine. He has people stationed all over the seven kingdoms, in every court. I want to set up a meeting between you and all the rulers. Not many people really know you—they have only heard stories about you, and you have been away from this world for so long, most of them think you are merely a myth. They need to know that you are a real person, a leader who will be able to protect them from Morgana and the Drakaar. They need to have faith in you, or they will succumb to Morgana’s threats because they have no one else to help them.”
“Do you think they will agree to meet with me?”
“I hope so. We need to gather more forces to go up against Morgana and the Drakaar. The Brandorian cavalry consists of highly trained soldiers and is a force to be reckoned with. Once we meet with the Detori emir and assess where his allegiance lies, we will make haste to Sanria and meet with Santino Valasis and his father.”
“What about the Silver Swords? Santino said they want to help.”
“I’m sure they do. But the fact remains that they are not enough, even with the support of the fae army. We still need Brandorian soldiers, not to mention Santino’s mercenaries and pirates, and we need the Eldorean mages as well.”
“So I was right? We do need Rafe’s help as King of Eldoren?”
Penelope nodded. “Yes, but that will come later. We must secure Brandor so the fae army can march unhindered through their territory. If Brandor joins with Morgana, the fae army will be effectively cut off from the rest of the world. At the moment, Morgana’s army is the greatest force in the seven kingdoms. When united with the Drakaar and their demonic armies, their numbers far exceed our own. The army Lucian brought to Elfi was only a small part of their actual force. And we don’t even know how many more creatures they have hiding behind the Silverspike Mountains and in the farthest reaches of the Darklands. In open battle we will be sorely outnumbered.”
I wiped my sweaty hands on my pants. “But Emir Valasis, Santino’s father, has already refused to help. He met me and he doesn’t think I am capable of taking my throne back and defeating Morgana. I’m not so sure the other rulers will agree to follow me into battle.”
“Then we must convince them,” said Penelope, standing up and smoothing her skirt.
“How?”
“Leave that to me.”
That night I slept very little and was awakened by a sudden shrill wail that sent a chill racing down my spine. It was coming from outside.
The sun had not yet reared its head, but it was making progress. A light pink glow had started to form on the horizon, heralding its advent across the Brandorian sky. The moon, still unaware that its light would soon be rendered useless, shed an eerie glow over the foggy courtyard outside the tavern as I ran to the window. Penelope and I were sharing a room; she hurried out of her bed, following me.
I froze at the scene unfolding outside.
A young mahogany-skinned slave girl was shackled and kneeling on the cobblestones. A black-turbaned slave master wielded a whip, cracking it down on the girl’s back, tearing through tender flesh and drawing blood. She cried in agony as the lash hit her.
The fog shifted, and the light of dawn illuminated her form. I noticed patterns on her body, tattoos marking her from the tribes of Rohron.
My fingers clenched and opened as I moved forward and grabbed the windowsill. It was a few feet to the ground, and I had jumped much farther than that during my training sessions in the forest with Tristan.
Penelope grabbed my arm. “You cannot interfere, Aurora. Slavery is an age-old custom here in Brandor. You cannot do anything for the girl.”
I twisted out of her hold and put my foot on the windowsill. “Let them try and stop me.”
The slave master raised his arm, poised to bring the whip down upon the girl’s bleeding back once again.
My fae senses took over as I landed in a crouch between them.
He raised the whip above his head, and it lashed out toward me.
I moved swiftly before the weapon struck, the blood roaring in my ears as my magic awoke. My fae senses guided me as I dodged, avoiding the blow and catching the whip in my hand. I wrapped it firmly around my arm and pulled. The slave master flew forward and landed face-first in the mud at my feet.
He pushed himself up, sputtering through the mud. “Guards!” he croaked. “Guards! Arrest her!”
I raised my arms
