You don’t have to put yourself down.

Evander nods, then looks out into the crowd once more. “Not long ago, my wife, Princess—I mean, Queen—Elynore, was attacked by the very creatures who invaded our city. She was pregnant with our daughter, Cecilia, at the time. For the worst several hours of my life, I was sure I would lose both of them. During that time, every moment I’d given up on myself came back to me. Every training session I skipped after a revel, every lesson I fell asleep during, every criticism of my father’s that I ignored, even when he was right about me. I spent years failing myself, and I convinced myself there was no harm in it. Because it was my life and I could live it as I wished, so long as I didn’t harm anyone else. But…I’ve come to realize just how wrong I was. That, in failing myself, I was setting myself up to fail others. My wife. My child.” He swallows. “Jerad. Even Olwen…” The crowd hums at the exiled princess’s name. “You. The years I wasted on ale and…” Evander steals a glance at my father, before swallowing and saying, “reckless living. I wasn’t just failing myself. I was failing you, the people I would someday need to protect. I should have spent that time preparing. Instead, I spent it hiding from my responsibilities. But then…” He takes in a deep breath and looks at me…

“But then Ellie, you pulled through, and so did little Cecilia, and I knew in that moment the Fates had granted me a second chance. I didn’t know at the time, of course. Had no idea that second chance would come with the weight of the crown on my head. I think… I think we all expected my father to outlive Alondria itself.”

The crowd nods in unison, respectfully hanging on Evander’s every word.

“I am not my father. I’m not my brother, either. I’m not the king you deserve, the one who’s spent an entire life preparing to lead you. You already know that. But I’m here to tell you I know it too. And that I’m done failing myself. I’m done failing my family. And if you follow me—well—I won’t say that I’ll never fail, because we all know I have years of learning to make up for, but I won’t give up on you, Dwellen. You’re my home. And you’re Ellie’s home, and my daughter’s home, and my wonderful in-laws’ home, and if you’ll have me, people of Dwellen—”

“Don’t be fooled by his faux humility,” says Evander’s cousin, face locked into a perpetual snarl as he steps onto the stage.

My mother mutters something incoherent under her breath.

Casper speaks loudly enough that he’ll probably grab the attention of the Others and lure them back to Othian. “What my cousin is about to do is ask us to fight in Naenden’s rebellion against their new ruler. Their new ruler who controls the very beasts that ransacked our home. What he hasn’t told you is that King Azrael wishes to ally with us. Just think of the protection his army could provide us if it were turned away from us rather than toward us. Evander has friends in Naenden he wishes to save at the cost of your lives.”

I mark that male in my mind, and as much as I’d love to march up to the stage and slug him in the throat, my mother grasps my hand.

“Evander must learn to fight his own battles, Elynore,” she whispers.

I nod, hardly able to contain the bulge in my throat.

Evander levels a cool, but unruffled look at his cousin, then slowly turns back to the people. “Those of you who wish to fight with me may. I’ll be standing for the freedom of our world, whether you choose to follow me or not. But don’t be mistaken. I won’t be conscripting you into battle. I won’t ask that of those of you who’ve never picked up the sword. What I will deign to ask for is your help.”

The crowd mutters, and Evander’s cousin scoffs. “And what is it you expect the people to do?”

Evander looks out at the crowd, and a soft smile forms on his face. “We’re not a people of war. We never have been. And though I have utmost confidence that our army will battle valiantly, they’ll have a fighting chance if you help them. My lovely wife, your queen, and her father have devised a plan to help defend against the Others. I only ask that you aid in making weapons to deliver to those in Naenden who stand to protect our world.”

Evander’s cousin scoffs, and more loudly than is likely wise, says, “What do you expect them to do? They’re a bunch of preening artisans. The best of them succeeded in crafting ceramics, Evander.”

That’s when Forcier steps to the front of the crowd. “If you’ll accept it, Your Majesty, I’d be more than happy to bake goods to send to replenish the soldiers.”

Evander’s eyes water. “Thank you, Forcier. That would be of the utmost help.”

Forcier beams at Evander, then shoots Casper a look that could curdle milk before stepping back into the crowd.

Next to me, my mother’s smirk mirrors mine as she squeezes my hand.

“Yes, and I’m sure those of us who make ceramics can learn to coat metal with glass,” says the woman who owns the ceramic shop in town. My father must have told her our plan. She crosses her arms and stares at Casper, who’s looking less and less comfortable by the minute.

The married couple who owns the blacksmith shop in town advances. “Our work may have been marveled at for its aesthetics, Your Majesty,” says the husband, his wife finishing his sentence, “but we assure you, our blades are just as capable of slicing through flesh, and looking fashionable as they do it,” she says, snapping her teeth at Evander’s cousin.

Evander’s smile is press-lipped. My husband is trying not to laugh.

I’m not trying that hard.

“Thank you. Your assistance is appreciated. Jethro, Ellie,” Evander says, “if you’ll fill the Hariwens in on the plan…”

By now several of the shop owners are filing up to the front to volunteer, and Casper looks greener by the minute.

“You fools,” he hisses. “He’ll fail you again. Lead you to your deaths, just like he did his brother.”

The crowd goes silent.

But Evander doesn’t look at his cousin. He just turns to the crowd and says, “If it is within my power not to fail you, I give you my word, I won’t.”

A shudder echoes over the crowd, snaking up my spine at the gravity of Evander’s words.

Of the fae vow he just made.

The one that will kill him if he double-crosses it.

Fae kings don’t make promises to their people.

It’s simply not done.

Maybe that’s why, this time, I don’t have to lead the way when the people of Dwellen kneel before their king.

CHAPTER 88

NOX

I thought the bond was pulling me here.

The gentlest of tugs, an incoherent whisper that almost sounded like a goodbye.

But I was wrong.

Blaise isn’t at the Rip, and I have no clue how to find her.

I take in the glow of blood runes that shimmer in a circlet, suspended midair, as I try to keep my hope from getting quashed, as I try to push away the despair.

It’s proving difficult, because if she’s not here, I have no idea where in Alondria she might be.

“You’re too late,” says a somewhat familiar voice. I spin to find a red-headed female standing behind me, arms crossed like she’s the one I’ve forsaken.

“Piper.”

Recognition slaps me across the head as my gaze adjusts easily to her unmistakable features in the glow of the starlight. Vibrant red curls, wide green eyes. She’s beautiful, yet solemn.

“Something tells me it’s not me you’re looking for.”

“Where’s Blaise? She was with you last.”

Panic crawls in my throat, worry that something might have happened to her.

“She’s gone.”

My breath fogs in the chill of the night. “What do you mean by gone?”