Faye POV 😌

“You know,” Liam says drily. “This is the perfect place for an ambush.”

I glare at him. “Wonderful, great way to make me have anxiety.”

Liam shrugs, glancing around the clearing. “Are we a hundred percent sure this is the place that Adalyn wanted to meet us?”

“Don’t ask me,” I grumble. “I’m not Natalian.”

“Yes, yes, we get it,” Liam says, rolling his eyes. “You hail from the distant land of Terrelain, land of talking stars–”

“Land of wizards and lost princes is how it’s usually described,” I correct.

“Lost princes,” mutters Liam. “Wizards. Can you guys do magic?”

I shrug. “I’m not sure. Legends within a land of legends, you know?” Liam hums in agreement.

The clearing Adalyn told us to go to is relatively small, with fallen trees and thickets all around, providing us a place to take cover or for enemies to spy on us, which makes me feel extremely safe.

Natalia is weird.

When I first came over here, almost three years ago, it was through a negotiation with Morbin. Garten Longtreader had come to our king and made an alliance with him, and an elite group of soldiers were chosen to go to First Warren to help with Morbin. I was among that group.

I left the minute I saw the living conditions in First Warren. I tried to convince some of my comrades to come with me, but they refused to commit treason.

In the end, I gave up and left.

I was lucky to meet Adalyn and Liam, or else I’d probably be arrested or dead.

“Is your ankle good?” Liam asks, breaking the silence.

“Stings a little,” I mutter. “I’ve had worse.”

Liam rolls his eyes. “Just don’t put weight on it until I can find crutches.”

“If you ever do,” I say under my breath. “Where’s Adalyn? She should be here by now.”

“Maybe Lord Captain Helmer is taking a long time to explain things to her,” Liam suggests. “Or she’s dead.”

I elbow Liam hard in the ribs.

“She’ll be here,” Liam assures me.

“I’m here!”

Adalyn stumbles through the thicket, a motley of emotions on her face.

“Finally!” Liam cheers. “News?”

“There is an attack on First Warren,” she says breathlessly. “Within the next forty-eight hours or so.”

“Of all the times to have a sprained ankle–” I mutter.

Adalyn laughs. “You’ll be fine, Faye,” she snickers. “They have a plan. They didn’t explain it to me, but they have a plan.”

“Yes!” Liam pumps his fist in the air. “Bout time they pulled through!”

“Things are finally looking up,” I say, grinning widely at my friend.

“Given we win–” Adalyn starts.

“Hey, no,” Liam interrupts. “None of your pessimistic stuff. Let’s get ready.”

* * *

The next few hours a blur of preparations–more like Adalyn and Liam lecturing each other on knife safety as Adalyn nearly stabbed Liam when he snuck up on her. I sit, watching their banter back and forth, almost like an old married couple.

“Was it really Picket Packslayer?” Liam asks curiously.

“Yes,” Adalyn nods. “He tried to kill me for a few seconds.”

Liam and I share a glance, but I shrug. “I’m assuming she climbed out of a tree and scared him,” I say, smirking.

“Bingo,” Adalyn says, tossing me a knife. “Just in case you need it,” she adds, upon my confused look.

“Yes, I’m gonna stab Falcowit with a knife and a sprained ankle,” I joke.

“That would be pretty cool to see,” Liam says. “Faye, slayer of Falcowit.”

We laugh, but there’s a lingering foreboding in me, telling me that this will not last.

* * *

“Well, here we are,” Adalyn says, a day and a half later, leading us through the crowds gathered in the courtyard of First Warren. “Victory Day.”

“Yay,” I say sarcastically.

Liam eyes the crowd. “What if one of the Band recognizes us?”

Adalyn frowns doubtfully, turning around to try and spot one of the black-covered assassins that usually hide in the crowds. “I doubt they’d look too hard at us. They’re more focused on the parents.”

She’s not wrong. Most of the Band stationed in the crowd are eyeing the parents, clinging onto their children, their necks draped in red. I blink, trying to get rid of the stinging in my eyes. It’s horrible here, and I still don’t understand how our former monarch could even make a deal with someone as horrible as Morbin.

“Don’t faze out on us,” Adalyn says, nudging me slightly. “There’s one right in front of us.”

I narrow my eyes. Indeed, a member of the Black Band is standing in front of us, scanning the crowds. He doesn’t have a mask on, showing a face that saw too much war and too much bloodshed.

I shake my head. He shouldn’t have joined a raving band of murderers then.

My ankle throbs slightly, warning me that I’m putting too much pressure on it. I shift, trying to find a comfortable position without having to sit down or lose sight of the Band member in front of me.

“You good?” Liam asks, concerned.

“Ankle just hurts,” I hiss through gritted teeth. I’ve had worse—training in Terrelain is brutal to say the least, and not everyone makes it out unscathed.

“I really need to get those crutches,” Liam says to himself.

The crowd’s quiet chattering suddenly ceases and Adalyn cranes her neck to see the Prince Winslow standing on the dais.

“He looks sick,” Liam says softly. Adalyn frowns.

“Poison,” I say quietly. “There’s a common poison found both here and in Terrelain. It doesn’t kill you, but it makes you much easier to influence and control. I’d wager Daggler has been slipping it into his food since the king’s death.”

“That doesn’t kill him?” Adalyn says, shocked. “Thirteen years of poison?”

I shrug. “Given I’m correct, I’d say Daggler spaces out the doses so Winslow doesn’t get suspicious. Maybe when he opposes some sick rule Daggler makes up? Who knows? No one’s been in close vicinity with the royal family of Natalia for a long time.”

“How do you know all this stuff?” Liam asks, eyes darting between me and Prince Winslow.

“When you’re a high ranking official in Terrelain stationed in Natalia, you tend to hear a lot of things,” I say.

“Hm,” Adalyn says.

I tune back into Winslow’s speech, the conversation between the three of us clearly over.

“—Now it’s time to gather all the younglings,” Winslow is saying. It’s small, but there’s a tremble in his voice. Not only that, but his voice has taken a flat tone to it, as if he’s memorized the speech and is simply reciting it.

I peer closer at him. His eyes aren’t focused on the crowd, or on the walls in the distance. Instead, he’s looking at the corner of his eye, clearly worried about something.

There’s hesitation in the crowd. The member of the Black Band visibly sighs as a mother refuses to detach herself from her two younglings.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” he says, his voice raspy. “You’re gonna have to let go of the kids.”

“Please, no,” the mother begs. “I’ll do anything, just not them—”

Adalyn looks stubbornly away, tears already forming in her eyes. Liam stares at the interaction, breath catching. I try to stop my hands from shaking.

It’s sick, it’s twisted, and I can’t do anything about it.

“I’m really sorry, ma’am,” the Band member says. “But unless you want to be detained forcefully, you’re gonna have to let go of the kids. I’m really sorry.”

He’s lying through his teeth, saying he’s sorry to the mother who’s begging for her children’s lives.

I glance around, silently begging the causers to hurry so none of the children die.

“Bring them!” Winslow shouts, his voice rising against the shouts of mothers and children. My heart drops. He’s going through with this.

The Black Band member sighs again, rubs his forehead, and jerks the children away from the mother.

The mother is held back by two well-meaning people in the crowd, crying along with the hundreds of other parents. The two kids look dejectedly at the ground, already resigned to their fate.

And then, then there’s a scream.

Adalyn screams and ducks, hands already clasped to her ears. Liam glances around wildly.

“It’s a hawk,” Adalyn whispers, her voice trembling. “Falcowit. They say the Six have screams that can stop your heart.”

I don’t doubt it. My heart is pounding at a speed that is not normal, and I fight back a scream. The screech from the white hawk awakened some form of fight or flight in all of us, and most of us want to flee.

When my heart rate returns to normal, I’m surprised to see that Winslow barely flinched. He’s staring into blank space. It’s a surprise because he’s right next to Falcowit, and that alone would cause a much worse reaction.

Adalyn is clearly trembling, her eyes glazed over, staring into some hazy past. Liam steadies her, whispering something over and over.

With the ringing in my ears, I can barely hear what Winslow is saying.

And to make matters worse, there’s an ear-splitting explosion that second.

A/N

Heyoooo! I feel like this took forever xD. I hit some writer's block for this chapter.

Also, please don’t mind me just favoring Winslow 😌 I have no reason why I like him; I just do xD

And we get a little backstory on Faye! Ahem, hinting on the poison. *cough* KYLE *cough*

It's the Ides of March! Random, Ik, but my brothers are now quoting Caesar constantly xD

Thoughts/theories/feedback?