I heaved a massive sigh of relief. The battle wasn’t over yet, not by a long shot, but at least we would live to see another day.
Old Scores Settled
Once the fortress was secure, we all gathered in the great hall as night approached. Fires burned in the oversized hearths. The white stone walls, scuffed and dulled with time, were covered with faded tapestries from another age, showing weapons and crests of Eldorean noble families who supported the kingdom with their personal troops.
Beyond the keep walls, Morgana’s horde regrouped. They would be back in the morning, of that I had no doubt.
Uncle Gabriel paced in front of the flickering hearth. He looked up, and his eyes flashed in the firelight, which illuminated fresh scars on his face from the battle. His gaze settled on my father, who walked in beside me, and his mouth fell open. “It can’t be.”
My father smiled. “It seems I wasn’t so easy for Morgana to get rid of after all.” He glanced at me. “I guess it helps to have the Dawnstar as a daughter.”
I blushed.
Uncle Gabriel’s stoic face burst into a wide smile, one I had not seen in a very long time. He strode up to my father and enveloped him in a big bear hug, completely oblivious to the shocked faces all around him. “It’s so good to have you back, my boy.”
“It is good to be back, Gabriel,” said Azaren Firedrake, returning the embrace.
Santino joined us in the great hall after he had settled his troops. They were now camped outside the fortress guarding the pass. Santino greeted Silverthorne and clasped forearms with Rafe and Tristan.
He turned to me and gave me a hug. “I’m glad to see you are still alive, Princess Firedrake.”
I smiled at the pirate prince and hugged him back. “Thank you for coming, Santino.” I took a step back and raised an eyebrow as I studied him. “Or should I say, Sultan Santino?”
“Santino will suffice.” Santino chuckled, his amber eyes crinkling at the corners. “And I couldn’t very well ignore a summons from my father-in-law, could I?”
Silverthorne shot his son-in-law an amused look and clapped him on the back. “Your timing is impeccable, Santino.”
“Isn’t it always?” Santino said, completely stone-faced.
Penelope cleared her throat. “We don’t have much time.” She clasped her hands in front of her. “Now that we are all here, we must discuss how to proceed.”
“Most of the mines have been shut down,” Santino offered. “Morgana will not get any more supplies of blackened iron to her army.”
Penelope nodded. “Good. But I suspect they have already managed to forge a good number of weapons from what they have.”
“Have you spoken to Izadora?” Silverthorne asked.
Penelope nodded. “Yes, and the Elder Council has finally relented. They have agreed to send the fae army to assist us. They have already started to march.”
Tristan stepped forward. “Even with their fae speed, it will take the army of Elfi days to get here. A few may be able to make it faster on griffins, but they are not enough. Even if we summon all the griffins from the keep, their numbers are scant at best.”
“We will have to hold the pass until then,” said Rafe, running his hands through his hair.
“The fortress will not hold until then,” my father said softly. “This is no ordinary army. Those creatures have been bred out of dark magic.” He shot a look at Silverthorne and Rafe. “Your warrior-mages cannot win against the Drakaar.” He glanced at Penelope and Tristan. “The fae have become weaker over the centuries, and the army Izadora will send is not strong enough to defeat this one. I spent enough time with Dragath to learn all I could about his plans. Today’s battle was just scouts trying to assess our weaknesses. There is a whole legion of dark fae armed with blades of blackened iron waiting within their ranks to destroy the fae army when they come. Once she unleashes her whole army, this fortress will fall, that is certain. Only Izadora’s Elite stand a chance against them, and there are only—” he looked at Tristan, “—seven Elite fire-fae warriors?”
“Eight,” the dark prince replied, jerking his chin in my direction.
My father gave me an indulgent smile and nodded. “Yes, eight it is. But even the Dawnstar cannot defeat them all.”
I stared into the flames as I sat quietly by the hearth and let them talk. My father was right. Even though Dragath was gone, it sounded like we were going to lose the war.
I turned the Dark Dagger in my hands, inspecting it from every angle. It pulsed with dark magic, still infused with the evil power Dragath had used to create it. Ever since I took it from him, its darkness called to me like a living thing, shrouding my mind with dark thoughts and trying to coax my magic back into the Dagger, even though it could not forcefully take it anymore. Having it with me all the time was proving to be harder than I had imagined. I wanted to be rid of it.
But I couldn’t get rid of it, at least not yet. My mother was still trapped within it, and along with her so many other fae that Dragath had taken over the many centuries of his rule. I pushed magic into it from every angle, trying everything I could think of, but nothing seemed to work.
I sent a thought out to Abraxas. “Any idea how I can break the curse on the Dagger?”
“It won’t be easy,” the dragon responded immediately.
“Obviously, Sherlock,” I murmured, running my fingers over the dark, twisted blade.
“Who is this Sherlock?” said the great dragon, a note of puzzlement in his deep voice.
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t find it in me to laugh. “Never mind.”
Lights seemed to swirl within the blade when I touched it, but I
