Free The Faerie War by rachel morgan

know, something ?”
    “We’re completely self-sufficient here. We don’t need anything.”
    This is un-flipping-believable. “Are you telling me you haven’t left this mountain in centuries?”
    “If we want to know what’s happening out there, one of us will journey for a day from here, then take the faerie paths to a city or town. We can’t take the chance that someone might follow us back through the paths to this hiding place.”
    “It’s not possible for someone to follow you unless you’re stupid enough to let them hang onto you!” I yell.
    He remains calm as he says, “Do you know that for sure?”
    I’m about to tell him that of course I know that for sure, but something Violet told me not too long ago echoes through my mind. Did I tell you about the time Zell followed me through the faerie paths without having any contact with me? And now I’ve opened a doorway inside the hiding place of the weapon that’s been kept secret for centuries. The creator of that storm could be on his way here right now to destroy it.
    Okay, stop flipping out and think about this. I lower myself into the armchair and cradle my forehead in my hands. I don’t actually know what’s happened. There may not have been any attack yet. This could be Zell’s way of isolating everyone to make it difficult to coordinate a defense for when he does strike.
    Emotions that aren’t mine dig their fingers into my chest. Anxiety, irritation, curiosity. I hear footsteps, followed by another male voice. “What’s going on in here? Who is this?”
    “A guardian from one of the Guilds. He’s been sent for the weapon.”
    I raise my eyes and meet the gaze of a man bearing a close resemblance to the faerie who let me in. He nods his head slowly and says, “After centuries of waiting, the time has finally come.”

 
     
     
     

     
     
     
    Even though the rest of the fae world is probably consumed by storms and battles, the two guys standing in front of me seem happy to waste time on introductions. The faerie who let me in is Tryce, and the guy who just entered the room is his father, Yale. He’s the one in charge here. After I’ve shown Yale my guardian markings, I try to get to the point. “One of the Queen’s closest advisors heard rumors of the weapon you’ve been guarding ever since Tharros was defeated. The youngest Unseelie prince now has the chest containing Tharros’ power. We know he’s going to unlock it soon—if he hasn’t done so already. We need the weapon that can destroy that power. That’s why I was sent here.”
    Yale sighs, then motions for me to sit down. “The Queen’s advisor obviously didn’t hear the whole story.”
    Great. Why is there always another obstacle? “What part did he miss?”
    “The weapon will do you no good. There is only one person who can use it.”
    I throw my hands up. Why can’t someone just give me the bottom line here? “And? Who is this person?”
    “We don’t know,” Tryce says.
    I stand up and start pacing. This whole mission has been a waste of time from the start. Now I’m stuck here with no way of getting home. Unless I start walking, which would take weeks. Or perhaps I could get hold of a pegasus . . . I stop pacing and cross my arms. “I know you’ve spent your whole lives guarding this thing, so forgive me for saying this: Your weapon sounds pretty useless.”
    “I understand your frustration,” Yale says, “but that’s the way it is. After Tharros was separated from his power and killed, the power was captured in a chest. The Order of the Guard was formed to protect the power until it could be destroyed. The head of the Order at the time, a man who had crafted weapons for centuries, received a prophecy one day while he was creating a sword.”
    My weary mind conjures up an image of a parcel arriving with a tag on it that says Prophecy . I press my lips together and try not to laugh.
    “As the words came to him, he etched them onto the blade of the