Moonlight Prince (Vampire Girl #4)(26)

"We must move on," says Dean from atop his horse, though in his eyes, I see he wishes we could stay, wishes we could do more for these people.

But he is right.

We leave the old Fae with a fur cloak, water and food, and we ride for the mountain. Then we smell the death. The decay. Crosses stand on the side of the road, bloody corpses dangling from their beams, their eyes picked out by crows. My stomach twists and sickens at the sight. I try to look away, but they are all around me. They go down the path as far as the eye can see.

"By the Spirits," whispers Tavian, "why would your brother do this?"

"Levi would rather rule with terror than respect," says Dean, his face twisted in a scowl.

I force myself to face the corpses. To remind myself why I fight against Levi. I try to muster up a rage, and yet, in the end, I only feel pity. Pity for the Fae. Pity for Levi. "You assume he has a choice," I say.

Dean frowns. "Everyone has a choice."

"Do they?" I whisper. "We can choose how to act, to be sure, but can we ever know all the consequences? And if we don't know all the consequences, can we ever really choose our fate?"

"You're being awfully philosophical, brother," says Dean. "Should I be worried?"

I chuckle. "Perhaps." The joke seems to lighten our spirits.

Except Tavian. He looks down at the dirt, away from the corpses, his voice soft. "There is truth to what you say, Fenris. One choice has many branching paths. Your brother, Levi, if defeated, will be remembered as a tyrant, a ruler of fear, yes. But what if he wins? What if he becomes king and destroys all Fae? Then those who are left, the vampires, how will they see him? Likely with respect, envy. And so Levi makes one choice, to torture the Fae and yet, in the end, he may be remembered as many different things."

I nod, wondering how I will be remembered. Will I be the king who ruled by Arianna's side? The Prince who threw away the crown? Or the warrior who let the Midnight Star die? Perhaps something else entirely.

My horse stops. Baron growls. Something is wrong. I was distracted by my thoughts. A fatal error.

I look up, pulling myself back to the present.

"This will be a problem," says Tavian.

Dean clenches his jaw. "Bloody hell."

I see what they mean.

A blockade stands on the horizon, wooden palisades, soldiers, all blocking further entry into the realm. Levi's crimson banners hang from the fortifications.

"When did the bastard set this up?" asks Dean, weaving his horse left and right to get a better view.

"Maybe when he took Stonehill," I suggest. "Or perhaps his Generals set it up after he disappeared. Niam is planning to take the realm."

Dean mumbles under his breath. "Stupid Levi. He's a giant pain in the ass even when he's missing."

"Calm brother. We'll find a way."

Tavian moves his horse to my side. "Do we fight our way in?"

I study the blockade, counting the soldiers I see and estimating the ones hiding behind the wall. "No. There are too many. Hundreds by my count. Even if we could defeat them, and I doubt it, the battle would span days."

"We could fly over," says Dean. "That is, Varis could fly us over."

"Too late to backtrack now," I growl, wishing for a better idea. "Every day we waste is a day Arianna is in danger. Varis it too far. But…"

Dean raises an eyebrow. "But what?"

I turn to him slowly, my face melancholy. "There is someone who could help us."

Dean waits in silence for me to fill him in, a quizzical look on his face.

"Must I spell it out for you, brother?" I ask.

He grins. "Apparently. Since I've no notion who you're talking about."

"We could visit her."

"Her?" His eyes light up with realization. "Oh, her." He starts to laugh like a madman. "Oh, this will be interesting. Tavian, you're going to love this."

"What?" asks the Fae. "Who are we visiting?"

"Marasphyr," I grumble reluctantly.

"An old lover of Fen's," explains Dean.

"This sounds…" Tavian pauses. "Complicated." He doesn't seem to find the notion funny. His face is grim.

And I feel the way he looks.

***

It's a short journey away from the road to reach the Grey Forest. It is a place more dead than alive. Filled with pale white trees and withered grass. Insects surface from the damp mud earth, but no other beasts make noise or appearance. Trinkets, spun from twine to look like puppets hang from branches; an old custom to keep beasts within the forest and away from villagers. And there, deep in the wood, between the trees that bend like claws, we find the cottage. Her cottage.

It's small, built of wood and bricks, but elegant in its design. The main door is thick and carved from a deep red oak. The windows are filled with colorful designs. There is a change as we near the home.

The air smells crisper, cleaner.

The grass turns from withered to lush and green.

Orange lights float in the sky. Fireflies, drifting over a garden of purple and white flowers.

"There is power here," says Tavian as we dismount our horses and walk for the door. "Who is this friend of yours? A Fae?"