Page 19 of A Fate of Ice and Lies (Fated #1)

Chapter

Eight

ELIAS

She hated me. Didn’t trust me.

That realization cleaved me in half, and I spent the past three weeks living in those two separate realities. One where I pretended everything was untroubled and the other where my soul writhed in pain.

I took out my anguish on the land. Spent my magic clearing area after area for produce to grow.

I traveled the various parts of my region, meeting with one skeptical farmer after another, who’d rather die than receive a fae’s help.

I forced their hand, enchanting them into compliance as Nalari and I foraged their desolate grounds with seedlings and our combined magic that made the produce grow within days.

I picked people from each town to help the farmers collect the fruits and vegetables and used the fae Uncle Hudson sent me to keep the magic flowing through the ground so we could continue to grow food.

A couple of times a week, people would gather at their town’s square to receive their rations from Teddy’s store .

I hunted beyond my region for livestock to keep in the pens on my property and killed the rare thunderbird I came across, who, by some miracle, had not yet ventured past the forest. Every few days, I returned to Teddy’s store with more produce and meat.

And every night, before I went into the log cottage my friends had built, I sprawled my palms onto the ground, digging my fingers until I felt the wet soil.

Using the last of my magic, I envisioned Teddy’s home and made sure her fire stayed lit, her room warm, her grounds safe.

I paved the path from her cottage to the store, melting the layers of snow so she could walk without sinking.

Only then was I exhausted enough to sleep without dreaming.

All of it to keep Teddy safe.

Aside from the quick visits to the store, I stayed away, using Everly, who’d agreed to forfeit the remainder of her magic to appear human and gain Teddy’s trust. I’d been reluctant to ask it, but she willingly did it.

Despite everything I’d done, the people of my region liked me about as much as I liked their Brussels sprouts, which wasn’t a lot. In fact, that strange leafy vegetable made me gag, which meant George cooked it at least twice a week.

It didn’t matter. All that mattered was ensuring Teddy’s survival as well as the little girl who she’d taken guardianship of.

Unlike the others, Victoria was fearless and curious of us, while she seemed wary of most humans aside from Teddy. Given the chance, I was certain she’d climb up Nalari’s back and beg for a ride.

“That’ll never happen,” Nalari griped, interrupting my thoughts .

Her voice was distant as she flew back from the other side of our region, carrying a handful of live goats in her claws while I stayed back in our cottage.

I sat back on the chair Brenton had built just the other day and examined the wooden toy I was crafting.

The sled and little girl were almost done, just needed another coat of paint, but the dog meant to pull the sled was proving more difficult.

Maybe it was because I’d only ever seen a dog on the screens of the human’s phone my friends and I shared, and never in real life, but it looked far more feral than I’d meant it to.

“Think of how happy it’d make her,” I retorted.

“It’s bad enough your female swooned over me,” she bit back. “She called me a pet. Probably had ideas of me curling up on the foot of her bed while she slept.”

With my carving tool, I sliced through the dog’s snout to make it narrower. Eyeing it, I took another piece off.

While learning how to sew had seemed like second nature, whittling had always proven to be far more difficult.

It was a good way to relieve stress, though.

A good way to use my hands to create rather than simply destroy.

However, since coming to the human realm, I hadn’t needed to battle as often, and I’d been able to use my hands to grow food and create more than I’d ever had the chance back home.

“She doesn’t know our ways,” I argued.

I shifted the dog from side to side, trying to figure out what I was missing.

“Nor does she want to,” she reminded me. “You’ve made no headway with her. In fact, I think she and her people hate you even more than before. You are the rightful heir of Niev and are above any of them,” she growled. In my mind’s eye, I could see the white smoke that puffed from her nostrils .

I sighed. “I am no longer an heir to anything,” I said aloud. “I’m only helping them for Teddy so she survives. Maybe she’ll find something good in all this.”

Something, not someone. As it was, I could barely restrain myself from ripping the police officer’s head off even though I didn’t sense she had any attraction toward him. But I hated the way she trusted him, leaned on him, held his hand.

“Vith,” I swore at myself . When I sliced a finger with the sharp end of the tool, I stared at the trickle of blood and watched as the small wound healed. At least my magic and body were adapting to this world. While it still took longer for me to heal, it was quicker than when we first arrived.

“What of the toy?” she questioned.

“I thought Victoria would like it,” I answered simply.

She and Teddy had liked the strange hat I’d knitted for them that was similar to the one I’d seen Teddy wearing all those weeks ago at the store.

She looked pretty in it. Cute. But it reeked of Donnie, which made me unreasonably jealous.

So rather than rip the hat off her head and scare her further, I made her and the child one and left it on her doorstep late one night.

“But it may frighten her more than anything,” I continued.

A laugh rumbled through our connection. “Bring it to me when I return. I’ll fix that hideous snout.”

I huffed out a small laugh that somehow made my chest feel even emptier. “Be careful, or I might start to think the girl’s growing on you.”

She growled. “Hardly. Although I do like her curiosity, I’d still use her for a snack if she tried to climb on top of me.”

“Of course.”

“Mark me, Elias, if the humans don’t learn to respect you, I’ll do the same to them,” she grumbled .

“You’ll do no such thing,” I said with a quick roll of my eyes at her dramatics. “We’re here to help them, not eat them.”

The front door swung open. I stood, placing the toy on the chair as George helped Brenton limp in, favoring his left leg.

“What happened?” I asked, noting the bloody cut above his eyebrow along with the rips in his long-sleeved shirt and pants.

Sweat pulled Brenton’s disheveled hair back. He wiped at the blood on his forehead without looking at me.

With a shake of his head, George helped Brenton onto the chair. Before I could tuck it away, Brenton grabbed the toy I’d been working on and smirked.

“What is this hideous creature?” Brenton asked, studying the dog.

“What happened to you?” I asked again, ignoring his question.

Brenton held it up to examine the underside, but when he moved his left foot, he flinched. “It has four legs, or is that five?” The words came out pinched.

George took it, and from where I stood, I squirmed while Brenton ran the back of his hand over the bleeding cut.

“Some sort of disfigured tarrasque?” George guessed, thinking of the extinct creature with a lion’s head and reptilian body.

“Why is Brenton bleeding?” I asked with a frustrated bark.

“Is this for the small girl?” Brenton asked, leaning forward to rub his ankle but pulling back with a hiss of pain.

Seeing his pain, I knelt in front of him, then reached inside for patience so Brenton could lead our conversation. ..even if it meant not knowing what had happened until he was ready to tell me.

That was the thing with Brenton. He hated admitting when he was hurt, whether physical or emotional. Not that George, Everly, or I were any better. Whereas the rest of us at least acknowledged it, Brenton avoided it. He relied on jokes to either distract himself or us. Or both.

“It’s for Victoria,” I told him.

He grinned, but I saw the agony that throbbed behind his eyes. “I thought you liked the youngling. Why would you make her such a terrible creature?”

With another swipe at the blood dripping from his forehead, he looked toward his ankle. With each moment that passed, the scent of his pain increased. I wanted to push him to allow me to look at his ankle so that I could heal it, but again, I waited for him to be ready.

“It’s a dog, not a tarrasque,” I grumbled.

Brenton wheezed out a laugh while George handed me the toy that I fisted in my hand.

“Screw off, the both of you,” I mumbled, not really meaning it.

Brenton’s eyes dulled as the smell of his pain grew stronger. Still, I waited, and knowing our friend, George seemed to do the same.

“Nalari’s going to fix it before I give it to the girl,” I said.

“Or you could leave the woodworking to us mortals,” Brenton offered, again wiping away the blood before it spilled over his eye. “Look around you.” He waved a hand around the cottage he, George, and Everly had built with little to no magic. “We’re far better at it than you are.”

“That you are, my friend,” I said.

With that, I stood to grab a couple of napkins from the kitchen. When I handed them to Brenton, he held it over the small wound on his forehead.

“George and I were patching up a hole on the barn roof, and I fell through it,” Brenton said, his words carrying an overly critical tone. “Idiot.” He fisted a hand over his knee that he tapped on twice.

I hated the hardened expression on his face. Hated the misery and pain that dulled his hazel eyes further so that the gold was barely visible.

“Remember the time Mother became a baking enthusiast?” I asked.

He scoffed.

“There was flan, fruit bombs, and merengues all over the kitchen counters,” I continued.

“Until Brenton went over,” George added with a grin.

With a sheepish look, Brenton rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged. “You know me,” he said, his tone self-deprecating.