Page 16 of A Song of Air (Fae Elementals #4)

C lay agonized as his body was tugged within the net. Ashwood and iron pressed against his skin, burning the surface. He was more worried for Basil. His tears were muffled against Clay’s shirtfront, though being half-human, the ashwood didn’t burn his skin as much as it did Clay’s.

“Sh.” Clay kept a hand pressed to his back, pulling him closer to his body, as though he could shield him from the poisonous webbing that seeped into their skin. “I’ve got you.” He murmured the words low in Basil’s ear, low enough that the human grunting as he dragged them across the ground couldn’t hear.

They were being treated like animals, and the man cursed the whole way at their heavy, combined weight.

Weak ass bastard.

Clay tried to get in touch with his magic, but the ashwood choked through his throat the harder he breathed it in. He could get past it, he was sure, but he didn’t want to do that while they were still trapped, or else they’d have a difficult time getting out. Sure, maybe the others would venture out to find them eventually, but he knew that if he didn’t protect Basil himself, Corvina would lose faith in him and would never trust him again.

And then there was Basil. He looked at Clay like he was some sort of fucking hero—not to the same extent as he did Shula and Ryker—but it still hit him in the gut just the same. If he wasn’t able to protect him from this...

They would get out of this.

Because Clay refused to let this boy go through anything else. He deserved better than tears staining his eyes and ashwood pressing against his skin.

Clay vowed he would make them all bleed.

Every last fucking one of them.

“Stay brave, Basil,” Clay whispered, the words quieting the boy’s distress. “I will protect you.”

He wasn’t sure how long they were dragged along the forest floor or how far away they went. The ashwood clouded his senses the more he breathed it into his lungs. He coughed and tasted the tinny flavor of blood on the back of his tongue.

Fuck.

How much had they laced the net with? Usually he could withstand it enough to tap into his magic, at least a bit, but the direct contact, the inhalation of it into his lungs? It rendered him weak.

After a while, they stopped. It was then that Clay sensed the presence of other people. His eyes darted around the floor, seeing past dirt, grass, and dry leaves to even more feet spread across a field.

“Leave the beast alone,” a second voice spat. “Looks like Rupp brought us something far more exciting.”

The legs closed in on them. Clay twisted his body to look up at the humans. They all smelled atrocious, reeking of sweat, piss, and sour wine. They were an unimpressive bunch, and he’d have them all dead within moments as soon he was free of his confines.

“What have you got there?” a gravelly voice asked.

“Found them by the stream,” their captor said.

Another man closed in, bending so he was looking directly at Clay. His drooping eyes widened as much as they possibly could. “A Fae and his half-breed.”

Clay’s anger spiked, but he kept his voice calm. “Now, gentleman... let’s be civil.”

This only caused their raucous laughter. “You hear that?” the one in front of him cried. “A civil Fae! That’s like saying an animal has manners and thoughts!”

He didn’t like the direction this was going. He wondered if they’d be stupid enough to remove the net from their bodies. If they weren’t, then he’d have no other choice but to end them, using as much magic as he could possibly muster. It would hurt, but he could do it.

Was it wrong of him to want to give them all a chance, though?

“Look, you guys really don’t want to do this.”

They ignored him, laughing at Basil’s whimpers. “How much do you reckon they’ll take them for?”

Clay’s entire body tensed, and he tamped down the growl that rose in his throat.

These men were slavers. Kurreen .

He thought they’d blown up along with the whole fucking West Isles when Shula and Iona unleashed their magic upon them.

The man bending down was leering at Clay. “For a Fae, he’s got a pretty face. They’ll want him for the brothels in Vellm. As for the brat, he’ll fetch a pretty penny for a slave...”

Oh, fuck no.

Clay was about to unleash the force of whatever magic he still garnered inside despite the net, but there was a whistling in the air. The sound of something striking flesh.

“What the f—”

Chaos ensued. Clay twisted as much as he could, covering his body over Basil’s to protect him. Arrows flew from the trees, and he watched with wide eyes as a body dropped from above. A gust of wind blew through the field, knocking the human men on their asses.

Clay’s breath caught.

Is that...?

He didn’t finish his thought before the wind picked up. The scent of magic cackled through the air. Somewhere, a hawk screeched. Magic was potent, and the wind swirled and swirled, lifting a gust of dirt around him and Basil.

Bodies grunted and fought, and death became imminent.

He heard knees hit the ground. A voice crying, begging, “Please! Mercy!”

But there was no reply before the man choked on his own blood.

And then there was silence.

The wind died down immediately, the dust clearing. Clay blinked dirt from his lashes, staring at a set of boots that stomped over to where he and Basil lay. He tensed, keeping his waning magic at the ready.

“Are you two alright?”

He looked up, finally placing a face to the whispered voice, and what he saw had him jolting.

A Fae woman stood before him. She leaned back on her heels, wielding a bow and arrow. The woman’s bright orange hair flittered with the wind, the curls pushing away from her scarred, freckled face and brown eyes, discolored with white as if she were scarred there as well. It made for an eerie stare. It was almost deliberate, the way the wind moved. Like it wasn’t exactly a force of nature, but emanating from her.

The scent of mist and rain, of a crisp, warm summer breeze encompassed her, permeating, relaxing. Like a touch of coolness against fevered skin on a hot day.

“We’re fine,” he answered, staring at her curiously. “Wait. You’re—”

“Vision impaired?” She tilted her head to the side, her lips turning up into a smile. The action made the jagged scars surrounding her eyes and the tops of her cheeks seem even more stark. “I know.”

“No, that’s not what I meant.”

“Really? That’s usually what everyone means. Then again, I guess you wouldn’t know that since you don’t know me . It’s not very obvious.”

She stepped closer, skipping around the dead bodies on the ground. Basil sniffled and her attention cut to him.

“My name is Bryson Varik,” she offered with a smile. “Let’s get this net off you, yeah?”

Her arrows shot out, cutting at the net that kept them captive. A moment later, a gust of wind pushed it away and she stepped back quickly. Clay tossed the net aside, feeling instant relief as he pulled himself and Basil to a stand, stepping away from the contraption.

His body itched everywhere, yet he avoided clawing his nails down his skin.

Basil sniffled and righted himself before looking up at the woman. “I’m Thorne Basil Rhian.”

Clay put a hand on his shoulder, offering comfort. It seemed to relax Basil, as he leaned into him, wrapping his arms around his thigh.

“Nice to meet you,” the woman—Bryson—replied, smiling at Basil. It was disarming, how pretty she was. Just like it was disarming to see the white linked through the brown in her eyes. “Are you hurt?”

“N-no.”

“Good.”

“My name is Clay Valentino.”

Bryson smirked and the wind ruffled again, and it only confirmed what Clay had been thinking—feeling—this entire time.

She was the one they’d been looking for.

“You’re an Elemental, aren’t you?”

Bryson’s body tilted in his direction, and her smile was wide as she replied, “I am.”