I stood, charging from the room, uncaring if the door shattered to pieces, ignoring the muffled, uneasy shouts in my ears. As soon as I reached the garden, my wings erupted from my back. My fangs were bared, cutting into my gums with how hard I bit down, the bitter taste of copper fueling my wrath. I lunged into the air, aiming higher and higher, past the trees, through the clouds, up and up until the land was nothing but a fog beneath me. Only then did I scream.

I screamed until my throat bled and my voice cracked. I screamed until the storm building in the sky retreated in fear. I wept. Hot tears branded their paths into my skin, and I embraced the sting. The king would pay for what he had done. The entire fucking realm would burn if it stood in my way.

My heart was broken. My soul was torn apart.

My mate… was dead.

Chapter Ten

CAIR

“Gather all the creatures we can muster in the Outerlands. We’re marching on the capital,” I demanded, barging into the room, uncaring if I startled its occupants. We could not delay. If my father desired a war, it was a war he would get.

Zadok dipped his head. “Those who feel resentment toward the king for their fates will fight for you, no questions asked, but are you sure you want to do this? There will be no turning back once your banners are raised against him.”

“It is not about want,” I said, no airs or graces. In that moment, I was so close to the frenzied and cold-blooded prince my father was no doubt goading me to be. He would relish it. I was one strong wind away from crumbling apart entirely, a bomb ready to detonate, but I had to stay in control for my mate. He needs me. “It is about retribution. Will you assist me or not?”

“Of course.”

The last hour or two I’d spent writing missives to my sources back at the palace, and to Teighan, informing them of their tasks. I needed numbers, every able monster in the entire Otherworld prepared to fight. Our Shade companions had set off in separate directions, Cerila toward my brother, and Gary toward Rathe, beginning the relay race to deliver the notes to their destinations. It would be days before they reached their hands, and that irked me. It had to happen now. My father had made the first move, and it was imperative that I was not inactive. Arrangements were in motion, but more had to be done.

What had to be done?

What are the next steps?