Page 23 of A Song of Air (Fae Elementals #4)

I t was almost surreal to hold her sister’s hand in front of a fire. For a second, Iona’s mind flashed back to before. Before the war had decimated their lives and taken everything from them. She recalled sitting like this, with different people. With her parents, her brother, and Malika. Of roasting meat and watching the juices drip into the flames. Those nights were filled with laughter as they watched the stars across the Jade Court sky, their bodies tired and weary from a long day of exporting fruits and making fruit flavored ice for tourists... Yet they’d been happy.

Iona was happy now, but there was also a melancholy around the situation as she listened to her sister tell her story.

“I was supposed to have been executed,” she whispered. “We all were. Everyone they’d hauled into that cart and was being transported away...” There was a strength in her voice, one never would have known she’d suffered once upon a time. “Bryson was there too, and we were friends... We figured we wouldn’t make it out alive.”

“How did you?” Iona’s hand squeezed hers, but she doubted her sister needed that strength when she seemed to draw enough of it on her own. Even Malika looked down at their joined hands as if they surprised her.

Iona knew what she felt.

“Arlo Blackwood,” Malika replied.

The half-Fae man who looked as though he’d wanted to kill them all.

“He killed the humans transporting us and freed us from the cart.”

Iona hadn’t liked him on sight, but her sister’s eyes lit up when she mentioned him, like he was some savior. She supposed he was. And maybe Iona could like him, if only for saving her sister. But there was something slimy and suspicious about the man that she couldn’t seem to get past, regardless of whatever good he’d done.

“We’ve been here ever since. Training, helping others like Arlo helped us.” Malika shrugged. “We’re a community.”

A community.

Iona didn’t feel that way with the Resistance. They were more than a community. They could never be something so simple.

They were friends.

Family.

“So, how did you come to be a part of... the Resistance.” She gestured with her free hand, indicating at the rest of the Fae gathered around the fire, each in their own conversations for the night. Except Julius. He was off to the side, trying hard to pretend like he wasn’t eavesdropping on their conversation.

“It’s a long story...” But it brought a smile to her lips and tears to her eyes.

“We have nothing but time,” her sister said, leaning back. “Tell me everything.”

Iona opened her mouth to do just that, but a shadow suddenly appeared on silent feet. She sighed, looking up at Weylyn as he loomed over the both of them. He glared down at Iona, and a shiver almost slid up her spine at the glare he sent her way.

She’d never seen him look so unhinged. When he wore a smile, he looked mischievous and deadly. The frown was worse somehow.

“Yes?” she snapped.

His eyes flicked between her and her sister, and the mouth hidden behind a well-groomed beard and mustache smiled a cruel expression. No, she thought, the smile was definitely worse. “I need to speak with you,” he demanded. “Now.”

Iona rolled her eyes. “I’m in the middle of a conversation, as you can see.” She released her sister’s hand, keeping her fist at the ready. She’d already punched him once for invading her mind and being a total asshole. She had no qualms about doing it again.

From the side, she saw Julius tense as he glared between them. She didn’t doubt he wanted to punch Weylyn as well. She gave a subtle shake of her head in his direction, though the little smirk on Weylyn’s lips let her know he knew what it meant.

“I don’t care,” Weylyn said, barely sparing her sister a glance.

Malika rolled her eyes. “I’m Malika, nice to meet you.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm.

Weylyn gave her a once over, assessing, and cruel, as if deciding how he should feel about her. He just as quickly dismissed her, turning back to Iona.

“You will come with me.”

Iona quirked a brow. “Or what?”

He flashed his teeth. “You will not like the consequences.”

Rather than being threatened, Iona felt curious. What had caused him to resort to obvious threats? Usually, Weylyn slithered in the shadows like a serpent. While she didn’t doubt he was capable of going through with threats—there was just something in his eyes—she wanted to know what it was he wanted.

With a sigh, she stood. “I’ll be back.” The words were directed at Malika and Julius. Her mate didn’t object. Not like he’d dare to when he knew she could take care of herself.

Weylyn walked forward, leaving dust behind him. Iona had to nearly run to keep up with his pace until they were hidden behind a cluster of trees where no one could overhear.

He whirled on her, his long braid flying with the sudden movement.

“I need your help.” There was a crazed look in his eyes.

Her brows rose, she was definitely curious. “With what?”

He toyed with the rings adorning his fingers then smoothed down his braid. Iona wondered if it was his way of grounding himself.

“It’s Bryson.”

“The Elemental?” Of course, Iona, what other Bryson was there? She mentally berated herself. Then she frowned in Weylyn’s direction. She knew of his proclivities for invading everyone’s minds and wrenching out their darkest secrets. If he’d done the same to Bryson and wanted to tease her like he had Iona, she’d punch him straight in the dick. “If you want me to help you hurt her, so help me Mana, Weylyn, I will—”

“I am not going to hurt her.” He looked disgusted at the very idea.

“Then what do you want? Moreover, why should I help you? Leave the woman alone. You bother everyone else enough already.”

Weylyn glared. “Bryson is my mate.”

Iona rocked back as if he’d punched her. She... hadn’t been expecting that. Mana, was the whole group of men in their party destined to find mates within the Elementals? It was a running joke between them all, and they’d even placed bets on it before they’d left Dana. It had all been good fun, and no one had really taken it seriously.

And now...

Fuck.

Iona pitied Bryson immediately.

The poor woman was stuck with Weylyn as a fucking mate.

Did he even deserve one? She wondered, then shook her head.

“And what exactly do you want me to do about that information?”

“I need your help in conquering her heart.”

Of all the things he could have asked... Iona threw her head back and cackled. Upon seeing his unamused glare, she took a breath and blinked at him. “You’re fucking serious.”

He gritted his teeth and she saw the hard work of his jaw. He looked away. “You are aware she has a...” He choked on the word.

“Boyfriend?” Yeah, everyone got that. The pretty human man with the long, dark hair and big ego.

“She is proving difficult to convince.”

“Mana, Weylyn, you just met her two minutes ago. She’s not going to fall into your arms right away.”

“You fucked Julius within days.”

Her face heated. “I did kick him in the dick first.”

“Semantics.”

“Look,” she snapped. “Even if I did help you, which I won’t—”

“You will.”

Her hackles rose at the promise of a threat in his voice. The tips of her fingers frosted over, and she closed her hand into a fist, feeling the crack of the ice. “I won’t.”

He moved silently, quickly, in a way in which she couldn’t sense him or expect it. He was in front of her, his face so close that she could taste the scent of his body on her tongue. His glare was a force, his golden eyes flashing in the darkness, pupils dilating, his canines grating together.

“This is not a fucking request.”

Her blade was in her hand before she even blinked, pressed the edge just against the flesh of his neck, nicking the skin with the blade.

“Get. Away. From. Me.”

He didn’t. He didn’t move. He just pressed his neck against her blade himself, bending down until she was close enough to see the crazy gleam in his eyes and feel fear.

“I asked you as a courtesy,” he whispered. “But now you leave me no choice.”

A pain crippled her arm. Burning. Searing. Like something was being carved into her skin. Iona screamed and her sword of ice disintegrated into snow between them. She jerked back, clutching her forearm, watching as her flesh began to burn. It heated, not as painful as the scars along her back had been. This was a different kind of pain. A different kind of mark. It appeared on her ebony skin like a tattoo of a stamped, golden leaf just below her wrist.

“What the fuck ?!” Iona screamed.

“Sh, sh, sh,” Weylyn chastised, holding up a finger. “Wouldn’t want your mate to come running.”

“What the fuck is this, you bastard?!” A stream of tears slid down her cheeks as the pain settled. It seemed permanent, pulsing hotly. It felt like magic, but a darker kind. A deadly kind.

“Let this serve as a lesson, Iona Wylde,” Weylyn purred, looking cruel and unapologetic, “to be very careful when you make deals with the Fae.”

“What deal, you asshole?” Her fingers scraped against the leaf, but the paint didn’t smear or smudge. It seemed to hurt even more.

He tsk ed. “It is even worse that you do not remember, considering you all but begged me for my gift.”

It hit her then and she remembered. Back in a camp, an old man with no tongue who’d recognized her, who knew Malika. They hadn’t been able to communicate and so she begged Weylyn for his help. He’d been all too eager to give it.

“Do not think this is a gift freely given” he’d said afterwards. “It was a favor, and I expect you to give me one in return. As to when I plan to collect? It will be when you least expect it.”

She remembered the wild gleam in his eye like he just won a prize. She hadn’t realized then what she should have. She’d been too desperate to find her sister, to know any word of what had happened that she hadn’t taken a moment to pause, look, and understand what she was doing or getting herself into.

Making a deal with the Fae, even a magical one, that was binding had been something long out of practice, and typically had only been done within the Unseelie Courts. But here they no longer had any court, and magic within the human lands was scarce.

And Weylyn had blindsided her.

“You asshole,” she growled. “You did this on purpose. You knew what you were doing.”

Weylyn snickered. “You will help me.”

“Or what?” she challenged purposefully.

His eyes narrowed, and as they did, the pain on her arm flared. It felt like sticking her flesh into fire and she screamed, dropping to her knees.

“Stop,” she ordered. “Stop it.”

The pain eased and Weylyn stepped towards her. She looked up at him and didn’t think she’d ever hated someone more.

He didn’t comment on it though he just looked down at her with that malicious smirk that she despised. “Help me conquer Bryson’s heart and the bargain will be fulfilled. Try and fuck me over?”

The pain roared again, and she didn’t have time to scream before it died down.

He smiled, flashing his teeth. “You will not like the consequences.”