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Chapter Three

FELICITY FORREST

“I’m immune. So are the lucky ones, but because we won’t mix our blood, that nasty sickness has spread even worse through the Crimson Court. It messes with our heads, driving us mad. And when I say mad, I mean really mad, doing unspeakable things, even to the ones we love.”

Princess Liora remarked on Edict VII

I groan as Cyn crash-lands on my bed, hair flying in a wild halo. I lift my head from my pillow fortress just in time to catch her smirk. She doesn’t need an invitation. She barrels in like a one-woman storm.

I roll my eyes, but there’s a tug at the corner of my mouth that betrays me. She’s all fire and sass, every movement charged with some energy that feels like she could tear through the world, leaving nothing but high winds and broken promises in its wake. I’m not big on cosmic signs, but something about us just slots together. Like we’ve done this dance a thousand times before.

From the moment we met, it was like fate decided we’re perfect partners in crime. It’s not like there’s a grand, magical moment—no lightning bolts or angelic choirs, just the pull of something I can’t explain. Maybe I’m overthinking it. I usually am.

Cyn flops onto her back, her hair moving like there’s a breeze only she can feel. My heart does a weird little stutter. There’s a glint in her eyes, something playful yet wild. She studies me like she’s about to share a secret too dangerous to keep. “You’re not going to believe last night.”

“Judging by that smugness, I’m guessing you didn’t have a boring night,” I say, propping myself up with a pillow.

“Oh, it wasn’t the worst,” Cyn says, voice dripping with dark satisfaction like she’s savouring the memory of something wicked. “Tomas hung onto every word like I was reciting Shakespeare. And honestly? While I’m more about actions than words, the way he listens…I might keep him around past breakfast.”

“Wow, a whole meal? Tragic. You’re practically domesticated,” I deadpan.

She throws a pillow at me, landing it square in my face. I burst out laughing. “Laugh all you want, but there’s something about him. He’s different. Even held back on kissing me goodnight, acting all gentlemanly.”

“And here I thought chivalry was dead. Buried under your ‘one night only’ policy.”

Cyn pouts, mock-offended. “Hey, I can appreciate a slow burn. Seriously, it’s like we’ve already…you know. I woke up feeling like I’ve been training for the Olympics on his hips.”

I snicker, a sympathetic ache curling in my thighs because, let’s be real, I’m sore in places I didn’t know existed. “Maybe in another life, you two were gymnasts.”

Her expression twists into something even more devilish, if that’s even possible. Honestly, she could pull off the whole Victoria’s Secret angel thing—wings and all—as long as she kept her mouth shut. But, of course, she doesn’t. She’s about to pull me into something I didn’t sign up for. And yet, that’s exactly why I love her.

“Enough about me, Flick,” she says, her tone dropping like she’s about to uncover a scandal. “How’d it go with Niall?”

I grimace, my mind filled with frustration and confusion, like it’s trying to pick between screaming or shutting down. “Let’s just say we shared a moment. But today is about work. I’ve got an article that won’t write itself.”

A shadow shifts by the window—too fast to be a trick of the light. The hair on the back of my neck prickles. I blink, convincing myself it’s nothing.

Cyn sighs dramatically, flopping back onto the bed. “You’re not even paying attention, are you? You and your work. You know, there’s this crazy concept called ‘fun.’ You should try it sometime.”

“And miss out on the thrill of deadlines? Never.”

She leans back, the corners of her lips tugging upwards. “Come on, it’s my birthday weekend. And you need a distraction. Besides…” Her eyes glitter with dangerous amusement. “Niall’s got that dark brooding vibe, like he’d ruin you in the best way and leave you begging for more. Might even throw your whole blog into a new…genre.”

Every step I take toward him feels like surrendering to the kind of trap you never want to escape. A trap with teeth, claws, and promises that bite. “Fine, but if this ends with me being the scandal of the century on my own blog, I’m coming for your smug ass.”

Cyn bursts into laughter, filling the room with her massive confidence. “Deal. But seriously, Felicity, let loose a little.”

I wince. Blood blooms in my memory. A crooked smile, one I trusted, fractured by betrayal. I can’t remember why. Can’t piece together what I’ve done. But I know it’s my fault, and the guilt tastes as bitter as the blood I can almost feel on my hands. Leaping headfirst into whatever this is? It feels like swapping one set of emotional handcuffs for another. “Right now, focusing on my work seems less like a choice and more like a survival strategy,” I admit quietly.

Cyn narrows her eyes at me. “You’re dodging. Cute. That’s my thing. Since when did you become a pro at it?”

I shrug. “Since my heart decided it needed to dig graves for all the bloodstained mistakes I can’t quite forget.” Emotions suck.

Her sigh is heavy. “Come on, we’re on vacation. Kind of. Don’t make it a boring one. The only way to stop running is to take the damn plunge. And if you don’t do it now, you’ll regret it. Trust me.”

“I guess I specialize in tragic romances,” I mutter, trying to joke through the ache.

Cyn lifts her chin. “Maybe. Or maybe you just haven’t found someone who’s as much of a beautiful disaster as you are.”

For a second, I let myself believe her. But the truth is, the ruin I bring destroys everything. It’s the kind that leaves deep, ugly scars and wreckage smoldering in its ashes. There’s a hollow void inside me I can’t fix. It pulls people close only to push them away when it gets too real. If I could figure out the reason, maybe I could stop the ache in my chest and finally breathe again.

“You’re stronger than you think. And way more badass.” Cyn squeezes my hand, her gaze practically daring me to disagree.

I nod, sucking in a deep breath. “I know. Every time I think I’m over it, something like this happens and it’s like I’m stuck in the past.” I wrinkle my nose. “It’s like trying to walk off a broken leg.”

“We’ll get you a cast made of steel. And whiskey,” Cyn adds, a grin tugging at her lips.

I smile. “Steel and whiskey. Sounds like the title of my autobiography.”

But the damage? It’s a wound as wide as Galway Bay. Suddenly, the scent of blood fills my nostrils. My hands are slick with it. His mouth is frozen in something between a scream and disbelief. The vision claws at me, but it blurs just as quickly.

I blink hard, the image twisting into the last guy I dated. His easy smile and the way he called me “trouble,” like that’s supposed to be a compliment. That’s where the memory lands, safe and dull by comparison. My pulse steadies, the confusion in my head retreating into the dark corners where it hides.

“You okay?” Cyn asks, her brow raised in a way that says she already knows I’m not.

“Peachy,” I deadpan. “Just revisiting my personal highlight reel of ‘What the Hell Was I Thinking?’ starring my ex. It’s a lot to unpack.”

Cyn snorts. “Emotions are fucking messy. But they’re also what make you strong. And you? You’re stronger than I’ve ever seen you. Come on, spill.”

I let out a shaky laugh. Then drag a hand down my face, deciding whether to bury this under another layer of sarcasm. But Cyn’s seen me at my lowest, and this? It’s confusing. “It’s not just that I’ve let things happen to me. It’s like my life doesn’t even feel like… mine . Like someone else has been pulling the strings all along, and I’m the one bleeding for it. The worst part?” My voice drops, quieter now. “I think I’m starting to remember who’s been holding the strings. I know it sounds fucking crazy.”

“Reflection is good. Drowning in it? Not so much. You know, for someone who’s kicked as much ass as you have, you’re really letting your inner badass gather dust.”

I can’t help but snicker. “My inner badass is on a sabbatical. Indefinite leave.”

“Well, she’s being called back to duty. Effective immediately.” Cyn raises an eyebrow, giving me her challenge. I notice the room suddenly feels warmer, almost as if the temperature is responding to her confidence. A few moments ago, the room was cool, but now, it feels like it’s been heated by a thousand candles. Her smile is calm and collected, like she’s somehow making the air bend to her will. I shake my head because that’s insane. “Bet you can’t jump back into the dating pool before we leave this island. The water’s fine. I promise.”

I shoot her my best I’m-not-buying-it look. “You’re betting me to get laid? That’s your grand plan for my emotional revival?”

“I’m suggesting you dip a toe. Or whatever else you feel like dipping.” She snickers. “I’ll even make it interesting. Bet you won’t seal the deal before I do.”

Her audacious challenge sparks a rebellious flame, wanting to prove her wrong and to myself that I’m not defined by the past. “You’re on, witch.”

Her laughter rings out. My shoulders relax, the tension melting away. There’s something about her presence, like a breath of fresh air. I forget about everything, even the gnawing ache of the past.

Cyn mock punches me in the shoulder. “That’s the spirit. The loser buys the winner a bottle of the good stuff.”

I smirk. “Prepare your wallet. You’re going down.”

“Ha! We’ll see about that. May the best slut win.”

I shake on it, grateful for her wild ways. I never imagined my recovery would start with a bet on lust. But with Cyn? Anything is possible.

She wraps me into a hug, her arms squeezing the air from my lungs. Suddenly, the room feels colder. I glance toward the window. For a split second, I’m sure I see someone levitating outside watching us. When I blink, they’re gone.

But then…that voice.

-Felicity, we neeed to talk. Viceeee will kiiiill you. You can’t wait to claaaaim your place. Meet me. Meeet meeeee at…-

It buzzes inside my mind, scraping the edges of my thoughts like nails on glass. The words aren’t mine. I want to fight it, shove it back into whatever dark corner it crawled out of.

The voice is louder now, like it’s pressing on the inside of my skull, trying to carve its way out. - I see you.-

I squint at the window, trying to focus on whatever I’m not seeing. The sky is grey. Empty. Nothing unusual. It makes me wonder if I’m losing it.

Cyn’s arms tighten around me, warm and solid. Real . The voice—whatever it was—flickers out, like a spark smothered too quickly to catch.

I exhale slowly, but it doesn’t feel like enough. The silence is too thick, too still, like something is out of reach, waiting for me to look away from the window.

-The fae can hear your thoughts. You need to get better at shielding. They’ve always known your secrets. And soon, you’ll know ours, too.-

I push the voice out of my head, wrapping it in vines, suffocating it. That feeling lingers. It feels like someone has a hand at the back of my neck, cold and far too fucking familiar.