Descendants of the Kings (Book 2)

Ch 40: No sides

It was snowing again by the time they reached Cedric's farm. A blustering, harrowing snow-laden gale that smarted against their faces like tiny needles.

Ella was glad to lead the horses into the dry barn, away from the sting of the cold. Her gown was muddied and frozen solid, but she was only relieved to finally be done with this business.

"What do we do now?" Gidden asked, shrugging off his cloak by the entrance of the house and hanging it on the hook. "I was interested in speaking to that cousin Hart mentioned. Is there any chance we could do that soon?"

"I don't know," Ella retorted, wringing her wet hair and making a bee-line for the hearth. "Hart mentioned that his cousins were visiting family nearby, but they would be returning soon. Though with this storm, I'm not so sure when that will be."

"Speaking of which—I haven't felt much magical draining, I reckon we could risk lapsing back to Faerie, no? At least to the border," Aedion suggested, as he started the fire. "Not that I haven't so enjoyed your company, but I do not fancy trekking back for another four days in this lovely weather," he grimaced at the snow quickly piling up outside.

"I suppose we could come back once Hart has a chance to explain this situation to them. It would be a rather unproductive meeting if half of it is spent screaming and trying to stab at each other," Gidden grimaced. "I'd rather we establish a more or less open dialogue first."

Ella settled into the plush armchair with a heavy exhale, stretching her hands out towards the fire. "I agree. It would give me time to explain to Callan first. I can't make decisions without consulting him. Well," she tilted her head sheepishly. "More than I already have."

Gidden bit back an amused smile. "Please don't tell me you came here without telling him."

Ella shrugged. "Fine, I just won't say anything."

"He knows we left, just not where exactly," Aedion said drolly. "Minimal details, I say."

Gidden shook his head in mild exasperation. "Did you at least--"

Whatever he was about to say was drowned out by the smack of the front door slamming open. Then, by the thunderous rattle of footsteps running down the hall. They were all on their feet in a second, hackles raised, hands hovering near their weapons.

Cedric burst into the sitting room, hair sopping wet, clothes askew, his face red with cold and exertion.

"Oh dear." Ella dropped the dagger she'd grabbed and darted towards him, hands on his shoulders to keep him from falling. "Hart, what happened?"

Cedric planted his hands on his knees and panted, his hair dripping onto the wooden floor. "You need to leave," he rumbled. "You need to leave now."

"What do you mean? What happened?" Ella tried to lead him into a chair to see if he was hurt, but Cedric only shook his head.

"The meeting was cut short; a messenger from Pendergold came and announced there was a skirmish in the border between Woolmere and Hampton. Pendergold's men managed to drive the Faerie troops back, but they took a prominent Hampton courtier as hostage."

"Good Gods," Aedion rubbed his mouth, grim. "Do you happen to know which Faerie troops were involved?"

"No, I can't say. But Pendergold is rallying troops with the intent to storm Faerie in retaliation, further up on the northeast."

Gidden's skin leeched of colour. "Northeast—Cereas? Are they heading into Cereas?"

"It would seem so," Cedric said grimly, pushing his wet hair back, barely catching his breath.