Varis stand before me, a flurry of wind exploding around him, keeping the flame at bay. "Will you really fight here, Oren, in the Crystal Palace? Where is your honor?"

The flame dies down. I check on Asher, laying under me. His skin is smooth. Not charred. Not burned. Not like Daison.

My body collapses, tears pour out.

He holds me, whispers words of calm, his breath cool against my skin.

I raise my arms. They are pale, clear. I too am safe.

Oren sees us. He roars with rage. His ashen hands blaze with fire, his eyes glow red. "Where is your honor, Varis? Siding with our killers. With our slavers. With those who came to our peaceful world and destroyed it!"

Varis says nothing. But the wind picks up. Harder and harder. Oren begins to slide back. He scowls, raising his arms.

Metsi touches his shoulder. "No more, brother."

Oren looks from Metsi to Varis, from me to Asher, from Durk to Lucian. His hatred grows in his eyes.

And then he looks at Madrid.

"Very well," he whispers. He drops his hands, and the fire dies, his phoenix fizzles, turning to a pile of ash at his feet. He and Metsi walk to the door, but once more, Oren turns back. He turns to the crowd, but I can see, he looks only at Madrid. "There will be war," he says. "Which side will you be on?"

Chapter 6

RIKU

Fenris Vane

"I am Oren, Druid of the Flame, Keeper of Riku, Spirit of Fire."

—Oren

Slumber does not dull my senses the way it does humans. I hear her, smell her, sense her, before she knows I'm awake.

She is of the water. She smells of salt and sea, of fish and wind. No one can sneak up on the Prince of War while he slumbers, not even a Druid.

I turn and study her, standing by my open window. Her dark skin gleams in the moonlight. Ritual tattoos cover her bald head. A green-blue snake coils around her arm.

"You have one day to free all the slaves in Inferna," she says with her lilting accent. "Or we will invade and destroy the lands here and beyond. Yours, your brothers, and the next and the next until all demons are extinguished."

I spring forward, my body leaping across the room with the speed and agility of my kind. It should have been enough to catch her, to immobilize her, but she dematerializes, turning into mist and disappearing through my window.

My hands grasp at wet air, and I grunt in frustration. Baron stands by my side, howling into the night, as frustrated as I am that our prey escaped.

The Druids have returned. But how?

I write messages for my brothers, asking for reinforcements, but disclosing nothing else, lest the papers find their way into the wrong hands. I dress in grey furs and leather boots, hand the messages to Marco at my door, and head to the library, where I know Kal will be.

He sits by candlelight, reading a thick tome with rough pages. The old Fae never sleeps.

I take the seat across from him. It doesn't take long to tell him what happened. When I'm finished, I ask the most important question first. "How is this possible?"

Kal is thoughtful, tugging on his long white beard as he considers. "There is only one way to awaken the Druids," he says in his Fae accent, which always seems thicker this late at night. "With High Fae blood."

Rage and fear flood me at his words. I know of only one source of High Fae blood in this world.

Arianna.

Since she was taken, I have warred with myself over the right course of action. Defy my brothers and search for her myself, thus abandoning my people, or trust Asher and fulfill my duties.

But in the end, if I left my people to rot, Arianna would not forgive me. She loves them too much, so I focused on my kingdom. Asher knows the consequences if he fails.

I turn my attention back to Kal. Ari is in more danger than I realized, and I am beginning to regret my choice.

Kal does not blink as he holds my gaze. And I know he knows the truth about Ari. Perhaps he knew before me. Perhaps he's always known. But I cannot be distracted by those thoughts. Arianna could be in danger. She could be dead. There is no telling what they've done with her. "Arianna, she is—"

"A High Fae," Kal says, confirming my suspicions. "But why bring her to Inferna?" he asks.

"I do not know, but that is the ultimate question, is it not? I believe my father sought to unite our bloodlines. High Fae and the Fallen, bound by blood. I believe he sought peace between our lands."

Kal frowns and pinches the edge of his nose. "If he did, he failed. This will only bring war."

I nod. Even Kal, a Fae, understands things aren't so simple as my father would have liked us to believe.

"Will you free the slaves?" Kal asks after a time.

I pace the library, my thick boots echoing off the stone floor. "I cannot let them go. I have already lost the support of many of my people. They will rebel if I do this. Something my father never understood. You cannot change everything overnight and expect your subjects to follow without revolt. Without consequence. Change does not come easy for the immortal, if it comes at all."

Kal nods.

All this talk with no solutions makes my head pound. There must be an answer without war. I must find Ari. "Are the prisoner's coherent yet?" I ask, an idea forming.

"Follow me, Your Grace."

Kal leads me out the library and to the Infirmary, a white-stoned place of little decor, dimly lit, where the prisoner's lay in their beds, well-guarded. "Though they are able to talk, they are not yet willing to," Kal says.

"They will find words tonight," I say, rage building in me. I walk into the room and find the largest, most dangerous looking prisoner of the bunch. A huge Fae with bulging muscles and a defiant face. I pull him out of bed and push him against the wall. "Where is Princess Arianna?" I ask him quietly.