Page 20 of A Song of Air (Fae Elementals #4)

T he scurrying feet of brownies and stomping, heavy footsteps of goblins filled her ears. There was the fizzling scent of magic and wine in the air, and it felt heavy on her tongue. The familiar routine should have brought her comfort, but it only brought her dread.

When Arlo approached along the outskirts of camp, her spine steeled. It was only then that Ev finally let go of her hand, leaving her to stand alone like she was going to be on trial.

In a way, she was.

Because she knew the Resistance would not be well received. As it was, she could feel Arlo’s anger pulsing like it was tangible. She mustered up her courage despite the anxiety coursing through her veins. Facing his glare had her heart pounding. He looked down his aquiline nose at her, blinking furiously between her and the Resistance at her back. His nostrils flared as he took a whiff of them.

Dozens of scents clashing together, though none more prominent than embers, ice, water...

Sweet and spicy.

A knot formed in her throat, and she took in a breath. Ev separated from her to go stand beside Arlo. The leader of the community came to a stop mere feet away from her. His garden smell also released waves of disapproval, of vibrating anger.

He didn’t show it, but she could hear in the slow drawl of his voice. “What is this?”

There was a beat of uncomfortable silence.

It was Prince Valerio who stepped forward and spoke first. “Forgive the intrusion on your camp. My name is Valerio Ashera, Prince of Seelie.”

If he paused expecting for Arlo to bow before him, Bryson fought the urge to tell him he was wasting his time.

“Hmm...” Arlo replied.

Arlo’s eyes flicked to her. Like he knew, somehow, he knew that they were here because of her. She wondered if the guilt was on her face. She tried to school her features and was sure she’d failed.

“Arlo...” She started forward. To say what, she wasn’t sure, but he cleared his throat roughly, his meaning clear.

Be quiet.

She snapped her mouth shut, biting down hard on her bottom lip.

“They’re the Resistance.” Ev cut to the chase, his own disdain dripping from his voice. He’d become a different person in front of Arlo like he usually did.

When they were together in the privacy of their little tree, it was always soft touches and whispered promises. Of what things would be like when he finally ruled. When they were in public, he was equally stern as their leader.

She didn’t particularly like that change in him.

“Hmm...” Arlo curled his lip, looking down the line of the new Fae with disgust. “What do you want?” His voice was cruel, demanding.

There was a beat of silence.

“That’s quite a long story,” the prince said cautiously.

“You will tell me, or I will order my men to kill you where you stand.”

Bryson’s heart bottomed out to her stomach. The murderous intent in Arlo’s voice was very real. The energy around them changed within an instant.

Suddenly there was the sharp scent of something soft with the undertone of something sharp. Like powder and steel. It zipped by her in a gust and then there was a voice, soft, threatening.

“You are speaking to the Prince of the Seelie court, halfling,” the man said. He was tall with a shock of white-silver hair and pale, almost translucent skin that was stark against the dark leathers he wore. “You will take care who you threaten, or those will be the last words you ever speak.”

The threat of battle around them made Bryson’s magic rise to the surface. She could sense that presence in front of Arlo. Her magic pushed out, shoving the white-haired Fae away with a single gust of wind. His feet stumbled and he straightened. She could feel his glare cut in her direction, just like she could see Arlo’s pleased smile. The brief sign of aggression from Bryson would placate Arlo momentarily. At least, that’s what she hoped. It would also hopefully avoid a brawl.

“Uric,” the prince chastised. “Don’t.”

Uric huffed and walked back to his place beside the prince.

“Now, if your tantrum is over with,” Arlo drawled. “Let me be clear with one thing. You may be prince of the Fae, but this is not a court. Here you are just another person, and you are no royalty to us. So, if there is a reason you came upon our camp, you will tell me now, or you can die, or you can leave.” He smiled. “Whichever you prefer.”

“Of course, we will tell you why,” the prince said. “But if we could speak privately...”

“No,” Arlo interrupted. “You will speak now, or you will not set foot in our camp.”

The prince’s jaw gritted tightly, like he was fighting back his own annoyance at Arlo’s blatant disrespect. “We’ve traveled across Illyk in search of someone, or rather, several someones.”

The hairs on Bryson’s arms rose at the start of the prince’s story.

“And who might that be?” Arlo’s brows raised.

“The Fae Elementals.”

Bryson’s breath caught, but she did not speak.

Both Ev and Arlo’s gaze cut to her, but she barely breathed, let alone reacted.

To think that the Resistance had traveled far for her. Why? Did that explain the presence of the other three Elementals in their party?

“If you’ve come to kill my girlfriend,” Ev began, dangerously low, “you won’t make it past this field.”

“We have no nefarious plans, I swear you this,” the prince reassured, lifting his hands in a small sign of submission.

“Then what is it you could possibly want with my Elemental?” Arlo demanded.

Those words had a threatening growl rumbling through the recesses of her mind, and she knew who it was immediately. She shook it off, staring straight ahead, avoiding throwing a glance over at the golden-brown Fae male with his dangerous magic. She knew what she’d find. Possession. Murderous intent.

Everyone around her treated her like property.

My Elemental.

Arlo’s words reminded her that he saw her as his because he’d saved her life. A reminder to her that she owed him a debt. He was staking his claim before the Resistance, one she would be an idiot to refute.

“We have reason to believe the Emperor of Illyk is searching far and wide for those like her. For those like them. Elementals.”

“Why?”

“To destroy the Fae.”

And he began to weave a tale. It was short and clipped, but it painted a picture vividly within Bryson’s mind. Of the emperor looking for Elementals. Of their struggle as they traveled to the Feylands, the confirmation that their home was no longer what it had been. That the emperor needed them all; fire, water, ice, air, earth, and spirit, to destroy the Fae in one fell swoop. That the prince of Seelie was searching for them as well because the Elementals alone could make or break the Fae. They’d traveled, searching for them.

And they’d come for Bryson.

Because they needed her.

And for a second, as he told his tale, her mother’s words sprang to the forefront of her mind. Her father’s words.

That she was an Elemental.

And she was made for great things.

Suddenly, pieces started to fall into place. Her reason for existing. The restlessness in her body, demanding she do something far more important than what she was doing now, urging her to fight.

But that crashed against Arlo’s sudden laughter, cruel and contradictory.

And it was that laughter that reminded her who she was and where her allegiance was supposed to lie.

It pulled her right out of her thoughts of the past. Of what she thought her future could be.

She straightened, walking over to Arlo and Ev’s side, standing beside them. Presenting a united front.

“And what proof of this do you have other than your word?” Arlo asked.

“I am a prince—”

“And it is the words and actions of royalty who created this world for us in the first place, so forgive me if I am not so inclined to blindly trust you like your... followers here.”

She wondered how much of a fight the Resistance would put up and her body tightened, waiting, ready. She wasn’t sure if she had it in her to fight them at all, but she prepared her magic regardless. Even if she loathed to do it. Even if everything within her screamed that she should not go up in arms against the Seelie Prince. Against other Elementals.

“You do not believe us.” The prince sounded both annoyed and amused.

“That is what I just said,” Arlo snapped.

“Fine. You do not have to believe us. Only she does.”

All attention cut in her direction. It made the palms of her hands sweat, and she resisted the urge to wipe them against the legs of her pants.

They seemed to be awaiting her response. It took a while for her to answer, because her thoughts warred together, two differentiating ideals angrily clashing. More than that, it was Arlo’s demands, her parents’ teachings, and this new information dropped readily into her lap.

And just like her anger, she didn’t know what to do with this either.

But she knew what to say , even if the words tasted foul leaving her mouth, like they didn’t quite belong. But she had to say them, because she had loyalties, if nothing else.

“My place is here,” she said tightly. “With my community.”

Ev’s hand wrapped against the ball of her shoulder, squeezing her, obviously content with her answer. She could even feel Arlo’s pride, pressing against her.

“But,” she added, “I owe Clay a life debt...” Arlo’s glare on the side of her face was a force. “I owe them lodgings and food before we send them on their way.” She turned her face in Arlo’s direction. “Just for a little while. Don’t you think?”

She was playing with fire. He’d have them killed if she didn’t say anything, she was sure of it. He did not have loyalty to the Resistance or the Seelie crown. But he did believe in transactions. In life debts. And he would believe in Bryson’s word.

Whether it was true or not.

He would respect it. He didn’t have to like it, but he would respect it.

“Of course,” Arlo said then. “If you saved my dearest Bryson’s life, then I, as well as she, owe you a debt of gratitude. You may stay here for the time being. But there will be no talk of battles or emperors or wars. You will find nobody in this camp empathetic to your plight. So, stay if you must. Gain your strength.” He paused. “Then leave .”

He whirled and Bryson followed. Arlo’s hand splayed across her back, and he leaned close. “We will speak later.”

She bit her lip but nodded.

Despite what he believed, she knew that she would pay for what she’d done, and she was not looking forward to it at all.

“Come,” Arlo ordered. “I will show you your lodgings and our humble camp.”

They followed Arlo. The noises became louder as they stepped foot inside.

“ Welcome to our camp,” Arlo’s voice boomed through the space.

His voice drew attention in their direction. From the far end of the camp at the healing tent, Malika pushed aside the flaps and stepped out, drawing her hazelwood, lemon and herb scent with every approaching step in their direction.

Seeing her friend brought Bryson new strength. For a moment, she wanted to pull her to the side. A chance to speak with Malika alone. To tell her everything. From the mating bond, to the Elementals, to maybe even breaking their unspoken rule and talk about her past. What she needed was clarity. A shoulder to lean on.

It couldn’t be Ev, and Malika would listen. She would help her make sense of her own violent thoughts.

She started forward slowly, a smile on her face. “Malika!”

“What’s going on?” Malika stopped in front of them. “What—” Her voice faltered, and a choked sound exited her throat as her eyes went over the group of new arrivals.

Bryson rocked back on her heels, surprised to see the sudden tears streaming down her friend’s face. She started to reach for her, but Malika dropped to her knees, the impact of the action making Bryson gasp.

Distress emanated from her every pore.

Then there was the scent of ice and apples. The sight of the ice Elemental stepping forward in Malika’s direction.

And when the Elemental spoke, her voice came out equally choked. Equally tortured. “Malika?”

Bryson’s heart pounded a violent rhythm as she stared back and forth between her best friend and the Elemental. She could see neither of them as clearly as she would have liked and yet she knew there was a resemblance. She’d studied Malika enough to have her memorized. The sleek curvature of her ebony skin. The shape of her eyes and her lips. The timbre of her voice. It was all there. The truth. Yet Bryson could not help but ask, “Do... do you know each other?”

Malika began to cry, and in between choked sobs, she managed a few words that made Bryson’s entire world spin. “My sister... Iona... my sister. ”