Book 2 - Chapter 34

“Our new war machines continue to destroy our enemies at range,” Prince Cassian announced to the group assembled around the table. “We will march on the city by tomorrow and retake it with minimal effort.”

“More like retake what’s left of it,” Noah muttered, leaning back in his chair.

In the six days since they’d closed the portal, they’d been busy. The four of them—Piper included—had passed out on the deck the moment they reached Hannah’s boat, trusting her to guide them safely back to Braemont. They slept through the night, waking only when the ship pulled into the bustling harbor.

That same day, they faced the moment Noah had been dreading since the tower: calling Ciri’s mothers. He’d tried to let Ciri break the news, but she collapsed after two words, forcing him to take over. Aelya asked questions as he recounted the battle, praising Ken’s heroism and crediting him with saving the world. By the end of the call, he promised they’d check in daily and return to the tribe soon to mourn properly.

Over the next day, they rallied the surprisingly large group of survivors from their initial assault. Morale soared when they announced the mission’s success and confirmed that the steady stream of reinforcements had been cut off. They rearmed and set out the following morning, marching around the city to link up with the main Therondalian army.

Noah personally oversaw the construction of more trebuchets and ballistae, setting them up alongside new fortifications outside the city. Mara, Ciri, and Hannah never left his side, with the latter two sharing long cries and stories about Ken to help each other through their grief. To Noah, it seemed they’d formed an almost‑sisterly bond, supporting one another as they worked through the loss.

Even as the assault on the capital resumed, more dire news arrived. Ciri’s mothers reported that Corrupted attacks had not only continued but increased in frequency. Worse, eldritch creatures had begun joining the assaults, resulting in several more fatalities.

That same day, Mara received reports from scouts returning from Tarn’s Reach, Whisperwood, Rookhaven, and Greythorne. Smaller, unstable portals had apparently opened briefly across the continent, allowing more eldritch creatures to escape into the wilds. While no new portals had appeared since they closed the main one, Greythorne, Whisperwood, and Rookhaven had used the chaos as justification to declare secession from Therondale and formally ally themselves with Ferrum Vale.

Noah shared the news with Ciri’s mothers during the previous evening’s call. Bryn and Cael joined them, and together they debated strategies to secure the tribe. In the end, Aelya revealed that Ken had left her a means of contacting the Winter Fae empire in the event of an emergency. She proposed using it to enact a tactical retreat: request asylum, pack everything the tribe could carry, and journey north across the strait to Eirnvald.

“We will endure,” Prince Cassian said, not meeting anyone’s eyes. “Then we will address the issues arising across the rest of the continent.”

Drawing himself out of his thoughts, Noah looked at the advisors assembled around the table. On his left sat Mara, her gaze fixed on her brother. To his right was Lady Kasinda’s guard captain, a grizzled bald veteran with a black beard and scars across his face. Across from him stood Cassian himself, the prince’s royal guard captain, and a conduit in leather armor who had introduced herself only as Zela.

“Tell me,” Noah said, challenging the prince, “how exactly do you plan to address the issues across the continent?”

Cassian finally deigned to look at the table, a dangerous gleam in his eyes and a grin spreading across his face. “We will ride out like King Corvyn, bringing these traitors to heel one by one like the dogs they are. It will be glorious.”

Jaws dropped around the room. Noah glanced toward the back of the ostentatious command tent, noting several guards stiffen at the implication. He shook his head.

“Yeah, see, that’s… not going to work.”

Cassian raised an eyebrow. “You forget your place.”

Mara stood. “If not for Noah, we never would have won here. He’s earned the right to speak his mind a hundred times over.”

“Let the man speak,” Kasinda’s guard captain agreed in a gravelly voice.

“Thank you, captain.” Noah nodded before continuing. “I looked through the latest reports. We’ve got a little under four thousand troops here. Any one of Greythorne, Whisperwood, or Rookhaven will have more guards than that.”

“We have weapons of war they’ve never seen,” Cassian countered smoothly.

“Sure. That might win us one of those battles. But the other two will adapt as soon as they see the tactic.”

“Impossible,” the prince said.

Noah turned to his right. “Captain Harwick. Knowing what you know now, how would you fight these things?”

Harwick stroked his beard. “I’d deploy my forces differently, certainly. Ambush the trebuchets the moment they’re set up. Capture as many crossbows as possible and reverse‑engineer them. Maybe even mount ballistae on the castle walls.”

“See?” Noah said, turning back to Cassian. “Clever machines and tactics will only get us so far. Eventually we’re going to run out of bodies to throw at those walls. And that’s not even touching the problem of holding any of those cities if we actually won.”

“He’s right,” Zela muttered.

“And then there’s the fact that Corrupted and eldritch creatures are roaming the countryside,” Noah continued. “We’re going to lose a lot of good people if we march clear across the continent.”

“A rumor, nothing more,” Cassian scoffed.

“Ciri’s family confirmed it,” Noah shot back.

“My campaign will not be delayed on the word of some wild Fae.”

The royal guard beside him frowned. “Your highness, I apologize for contradicting you, but… wild Fae cannot lie. If they say something, then it is true.”

“Cassian,” Mara said softly. “Why are you so eager to fight this war?”

“This is our chance, don’t you see?” he replied, the wild look flashing across his blue eyes again. “To regain our lost glory as a family! We can be conquerors once more, heroes once more!”

“How much is that glory worth to you?” she whispered.

This chapter originated on the author's publication page, and the copy here was made without approval.

“Everything!” he screamed, losing his composure entirely.

A long silence hung in the tent.

“Are you just bitching, son?” Captain Harwick asked, turning to Noah. “Or do you have a plan?”

“Any way you cut it, if we want to win against Ferrum Vale, we need allies. The Fae hate Ferrum Vale as much as we do, and they’re just as invested in making sure no more portals get opened. We should send envoys. Ask for help.”

“Corvyn Therondale never asked the Fae for help,” Cassian spat.

“Our father did,” Mara shot back.

“And look where it got us.”

“Every advancement in magic we received saved lives.”

“In exchange for our resources, our labor, and our freedoms.”

This is going nowhere. Noah stood, shaking his head in disgust.

“Where are you going?” Cassian demanded.

“To ask the Fae for help,” Noah said, staring daggers at him.

“No! I forbid it!”

“You forbid it?” Noah blinked. “I’m not one of your fucking subjects. You don’t get to hold me here. I’m done with this conversation, your petty politics, and your glory‑chasing. I’m going to at least try to save some lives.”

“Guards!” Cassian shouted. “Arrest this man! Chain him!”

“Belay that order!” Mara snapped, freezing the guards mid‑step.

“He cannot leave!” Cassian argued. “We need his inventions!”

“And you think he’ll give them to you if he’s chained up?” she shot back.

“He will. Even if we have to make him.”

In a sudden burst of strength, Mara grabbed Cassian by the collar and slammed his nose into the table, breaking it. He fell backward, clutching his face and screaming.

“Guards! Arrest her too!”

None of the guards moved.

“Guards!” he shouted again, looking wildly between them. “I am the crown prince! The future king of Therondale! By my authority, arrest both of them!”

Captain Harwick chuckled darkly. “If you think arresting two of the heroes of Crownspire is going to work out for you, then Therondale isn’t going to last very much longer.”

Mara exhaled slowly, regaining her composure. “Cassian. People didn’t listen to Mother and Father because they wore the crown. They listened because they trusted that whatever happened, they had the nation’s best interests at heart. Not glory. Not battle. The people.” She turned to the royal guard across the table. “Captain. Please escort my brother to his private tent and ensure he stays there. I think he needs time to reflect.”

The guard hesitated, then nodded. “Yes, your royal highness.”

That title’s reserved for the king and queen, Noah realized as the man helped Cassian to his feet.

“No! This is treason! This is unjust! This is unfair!” Cassian cried as more guards moved to haul him away.

“I trust you have no issues with this?” Mara asked, turning to Zela as they left.

“No, your royal highness,” Zela replied, bowing her head. “To be honest, I’d hoped you would convince him his plans were folly.”

She may just have prevented a coup.

“What now, your royal highness?” Captain Harwick asked.

Mara took a moment to steady herself as every eye in the room turned toward her. “Captain, I’m entrusting you with the remainder of the attack on the city. Go to the front, inspect the trebuchets, and keep them firing. Then write up a plan to retake the city once the Corrupted drop below a critical mass.”

“Retake?” Harwick asked.

“Not to live in. But valuable resources may survive the attack, and I want to make sure we recover them.”

He stood, clasped his fist across his chest, and bowed his head. “Of course.”

She turned to Zela next. “You were in charge of the conduits here, yes?”

Zela nodded.

“Good. Gather them, and tell them to meet me outside the tent tonight. Bring any scribes we have too.”

“At once.” She rose and left, leaving Mara and Noah alone with the guards.

“What’s your plan with the conduits?” Noah asked.

“I want to standardize our grimoires. Everyone gets the same number of healing spells, every grimoire has dividers, that sort of thing. Stock up on spells and share runes.”

He nodded approvingly. “Smart.”

“I did pick up a few things talking to you,” she said, a small smile crossing her face.

“What about the other spells? Telekinesis and magic shields would probably save some lives here.”

“You and Ciri asked me not to share those,” she reminded him.

“Given the circumstances, she might be willing to make an exception,” Noah said. “Why don’t we go ask her?”

She nodded. “Good idea.”

Interlacing her fingers with his, they walked out of the tent and turned right. Guards fell in around them as they moved through the camp, ignoring the furtive glances cast their way by the rest of the army. When they reached the modest tent they’d been sharing—Ciri, Hannah, and Piper included—they opened the flap and stepped inside.

There, they found Ciri and Hannah on the floor with a bag between them, tears streaming down their cheeks. Noah and Mara joined them, Mara wrapping Ciri in her arms while Noah held Hannah. Piper moved between them, rubbing against legs and knees as if trying to comfort everyone at once.

“What happened?” Noah asked softly.

Hannah pulled a flask from her vest, unscrewed it, and took a long sip to steady herself. “We… decided it was time to go through Ken’s things.”

“Ah.”

Ciri looked up with bleary eyes and handed Noah a rolled sheet of paper. He unrolled it—only for Ken’s writ to fall into his lap. For a moment he stared at the pen‑like tool, tears welling at the reminder of the man’s death.

“I thought this was lost,” he said, voice breaking.

“Read it,” Hannah whispered.

Wiping his eyes, Noah unrolled the letter again and scanned it. A fresh wave of grief crashed over him, breaking his composure. Piper settled into his lap, grounding him enough to continue reading aloud for Mara’s benefit.

“Noah. If you are reading this, then that means I have departed on my final journey to the house of Donn.” He paused, inhaled, and continued. “You were an excellent student. You took to the lessons far faster than anyone I’ve ever seen before. More than that though, you are a good man—something I could never teach.”

His jaw clenched as he fought the rising emotion.

“It’s okay,” Mara soothed. “Take your time.”

Noah nodded and continued. “Take my writ—my final gift to you. Use it wisely to protect Ciri, my tribe, and those you care about. And above all else, know that I am proud of you.”

He rolled up the letter and tucked it into his jacket. The three women moved closer, wrapping each other in a group hug. For a long moment they let the emotions flow, supporting one another through the grief.

“I… have a question,” Mara said as they broke apart. “How did he know he was going to die?”

“He did not,” Ciri said, wiping her tears. “But my father prepared relentlessly for everything. He wrote letters to my mothers, to myself, to…” Her lip quivered.

“Me,” Hannah finished softly.

“We’ll deliver them,” Noah promised. “We’ll go to your tribe in Eirnvald and deliver them personally.”

“I’ll sail you there myself,” Hannah offered.

“Are you sure?” Mara asked. “I was comfortable with you asking them for help, but I thought you were going to use the twin mirrors or something. Going in person is… well, the winter Fae haven’t exactly been accepting of humans.”

“Yeah,” Noah said. “Lady Frostwing gave me a seal of passage.” He turned to Hannah. “Are you going to be okay coming? They don’t like half‑Fae.”

“That’d be an understatement,” Hannah said. “But I have to go. Ken told me something about the winter Fae in his letter. Something I can’t ignore.”

“Something?” Noah asked.

“I’d… rather not share just yet.”

He backed off. “I understand. We’ll go together then.”

“I can’t,” Mara said, bowing her head. “I wish I could come with you, but… there’s too much to do here. Too many people relying on me. I can’t just leave it all, as much as I want you.”

Heavy is the head that wears the crown. Noah reached for her hand. “It’s okay. I understand. You’ve got responsibilities.”

Ciri’s eyes widened suddenly. She stood, moved to her bag, and dug through it before pulling something out. With quick strides she returned and handed Mara the twin mirror.

“Do you know how to use this?”

“No,” Mara admitted.

“I will teach you. My mothers have its pair. When we reach Eirnvald, we will use theirs to call you. That way, you can remain in contact.”

“You… want to leave this here?” Mara asked softly. “With me?”

“Yes,” Ciri said.

“This is… far too valuable a gift. I can’t—”

“It is not a gift,” Ciri said gently. “It is a tool used among the tribe. You are family. You are part of the tribe. You will require the tool when we are gone. Therefore, you must take it.”

Mara blinked, stunned, before pulling Ciri into a tight hug. The pink‑haired Fae returned it, holding the now‑sobbing princess. They stayed like that for a full minute before parting.

“I’ll… I’ll write you an official letter,” Mara said, wiping fresh tears. “Asking for aid. I’ll address it to the queen of the winter court. I don’t know if you’ll actually meet her, but if you can get it into the hands of someone high enough… maybe it’ll make a difference.”

Noah leaned in and kissed her softly, resting his forehead against hers. “At the first sign of trouble, you use that mirror and call us, okay?”

“Okay,” she whispered.

He leaned back, looked at the three women who had become central to his life, and nodded.

“Then I guess we’d better get packing.”