Page 80 of Wings of Snow
The male smirked. “I’ll take your word for it.”
A stirring of the protectiveness I felt toward my mate rumbled, causing a low growl to vibrate my chest.
The Fire Wolf took a step farther away from Ilara, not looking at me when he did it, and I immediately quieted the possessive sound. While I didn’t know this male at all, something told me that he understood mate bonds, and since he’d just shown a modicum of respect for the fact that I hadn’t liked his smirking expression or his close proximity to my mate, I forced the instinct down.
I formed a solid Shield of air around us, halting the snow and wind from hitting us, then hunkered in the snow.
The hunter eyed the Shield briefly, his expression giving away nothing, before he also knelt at my side.
“This is the field where our crops first began to die,” I explained. “It was here that Ilara detected that perhaps something is buried deep within the land that is suppressing the naturalorem.”
“What did you detect?” the Fire Wolf asked her.
Ilara frowned. “It’s hard to describe. It just felt wrong, and when I tried to push through it, the effects were detrimental. Whatever’s down there encased my magic, and it took a god to bring it back. I’d advise you to use caution when assessing it.”
“A god?” The Fire Wolf grunted. “Noted.” Despite her warning, he still plunged his hand into the snow, much like Ilara did when she was using her affinity, although I didn’t feel his aura rise immediately, as though he respected her advice and was practicing caution. “Andoremis the term that describes the magic that allows plants to grow in this frozen terrain?”
My mate inclined her head. “Correct. Did Major Fieldstone explain that part to you?”
“He did.”
My four guards continued to watch the perimeter, not once letting their attention drop, as a rush of magic clouded around the Fire Wolf. I kept my expression impassive, but I watched the male closely to see if I could detect exactly what kind of magic-wielder he was.
A few moments passed, and the impassive expression on the Fire Wolf’s face became clouded the more his magic grew. His features grew tight, a scowl forming on his face. A few minutes later, he finally pulled his hand free of the soil and dusted the snow from his palms.
The hunter’s shrewd expression didn’t abate. “You’re correct that there’s magic in this land—it’s dark magic.”
Ilara’s brow furrowed. “Dark magic?” She eyed me.
I frowned. There was nodark magicon the Solis continent. Truth be told, I didn’t even know what the Fire Wolf spoke of.
“It’s something I’ve encountered a time or two,” the hunter replied as he stood. Ilara and I joined him. “I believe what you felt, Ilara, is dark magic most likely created by a warlock.”
I scowled. “What’s a warlock?”
The hunter’s lip curled. “The worst kind of magic-wielder from my realm. Warlocks are sorcerers who practice dark magic—illegalmagic where I come from. And the reason it’s illegal is because they need to sacrifice human or supernatural lives to grow their dark power. It’s how they produce it.”
Ilara paled. “You’re saying that a dark sorcerer from your realm had to murder innocent supernaturals orhumans”—the foreign word rolled awkwardly off her tongue—“or fae in order to create whatever magic is now in this land?”
The Fire Wolf crossed his arms. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
“Fire Wolf, what do warlocks smell like?” she asked. Worry had etched into her face so deeply, and fear strummed toward me on the bond.
The Fire Wolf merely cocked his head. “Awful, like something decaying. They don’t look much better.” He went on to describe them, the picture he painted of pale gaunt faces, skeletal features, and sickly-looking bodies sounding worse than their scent. “But don’t let their thin forms fool you. They’re immensely powerful. Some of the only times I’ve feared for my life have been during battles with warlocks.”
My scowl increased as Ilara grabbed my hands, her grip tight. “That explains the smell I detected when I was about to be attacked in the castle, after that date with Lord Waterline. It was the same smell Lord Crimsonale sensed.”
I pressed my lips together in a tight line. “So we were right. The creature my father hired was also the one that was going to attack you.”
She nodded vigorously. “Which means that all of the fae who’ve gone missing have probably been taken by a warlock, perhaps bythewarlock that’s created the veil in this field. Perhaps he’s taking them to kill them to infuse his dark magic.”
It felt as though I’d been punched in the chest, but my thoughts turned rapid-fire as what she was implying fell into place. “Gods, that means none of them are still alive.”
Ilara’s eyes dimmed. “And it also means that if your father truly did orchestrate all of this, then he willingly allowed those fae to be murdered. This proves it. If he was meeting with the warlock, and Lord Crimsonale overheard the king giving the warlock directions, itisyour father that’s done this.”
Ilara was right. Lord Crimsonale had detected the same scent she had when the warlock had been near.
Ilara’s brow furrowed when my anger strummed toward her on our bond. She laid a hand on my arm and squeezed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want it to be him, but you were right.”