I grasped the amulet in my hands, trying to muster the courage to use it. My second in command, Irya DeLaska, stood to my right. Her lavender eyes analyzed the markings on the stone disc, trying to figure out their meaning.
“Are you sure this will work, Dyier?” she asked, her voice raspy from an old neck injury. The scar was a violent red slash across her milk-white throat. Usually she wore her black hair in a way that covered it, but today she had it pulled back in an intricate braid. She wore the emblem of the Unseelie Court on her bicep, the silver tracings in it marking her as royalty. If her husband, Fay-King Mika of the Unseelie Court, knew that she was a member of Dyier Shola we’d all pay with our lives for putting a member of the royal family in harm’s way.