Page 30 of A Song of Air (Fae Elementals #4)

B ryson kept her head lifted, pulling wind from every direction her way. She filtered through the smells, finding Basil’s distinct orange scent. Her feet picked up once she found it. Weylyn didn’t question her as she followed it like a bloodhound. Her feet carried her near the river, where his essence was stronger, yet blended into the misty spray of the water.

She looked around, squinting. “Do you see him?” she asked Weylyn.

“No.”

“He’s here.” She knew it. She didn’t know how, but she did. She turned to Weylyn, about to ask them to disperse, but when she turned his way, he was incredibly, eerily still. His eyes flicked until nothing but the whites of them were visible.

A second later, Bryson felt her consciousness being yanked into his mind.

Not again , was all she could think before she was propelled into Weylyn’s mind. But this time, there were no inappropriate visions. All around them was the forest they currently stood in, but everything was... different. Like they were standing through a phantom realm and not the human one. And over there, right near the river, crouched low, she could make out the outlined body of a small boy.

Weylyn walked towards him slowly. “Lord Basil?”

Lord? What? Bryson didn’t ask the question out loud.

Basil’s head snapped up in Weylyn’s direction and then the child began to cry.

“My lord.” Weylyn bent so he was level with the child. “What ails you?”

Basil sniffled. “I was there one moment and then the next I was gone, and nobody could find me, so I ran.”

Bryson approached slowly. “Has that ever happened before?”

Weylyn slowly turned his head in her direction. “No.”

“Is it... Mana’s gift?”

“It must be.” He turned back to Basil. “My lord, your gifts from Mana are manifesting.”

His tears stopped flowing. “Gifts?”

“The way your mother controls water, the way Shula controls fire, the way Iona controls ice. Your own gifts are manifesting.”

“I don’t want it! Nobody can see me!”

“The price of your magic, little lord.” Weylyn smiled at him, and it was so tender that for a moment, everything fell away. In that moment, Bryson didn’t see him as a menace. Funny, how the single action changed his whole face.

He looked at the boy like he cared deeply for him.

“To become invisible, you are silenced completely. In sound, in essence.”

“I don’t want to disappear!”

Weylyn gripped Basil’s shoulders and smoothed the tension in them. “Then you must learn to control it. Control your emotions, my lord. No more tears, no more anger, no more sadness. Control yourself. Relax. And you will become visible to us once again.”

She watched, feeling rather useless as Weylyn coaxed the child into relaxing. And then slowly, the world around them began to fade until Bryson was thrust back into her mind, blinking awake like she’d been in some strange dream.

When her eyes followed the riverbank, Basil was there. Visible. Whole.

“Well done, my lord,” Weylyn praised, that smile on his mouth so tender that Bryson had the urge to run her fingers across his lips. Everything he did was done with malicious intent, but when he spoke to Basil, it was different.

He was kinder.

More real.

She hated how it warmed her from the inside out.

“The child of an Elemental wielding magic.”

It wasn’t unheard of. Magical gifts from Mana were rare; only a small hint of the population had magic. Sometimes it ran through familial blood. More often than not, the magic-bearers were those that came from families without any at all.

But Basil’s mother was an Elemental. And if he was manifesting his magic at such a young age, it was for a reason. Mana probably had bigger plans for the boy and set this specific gift into his veins for a reason.

Invisibility. And the price of it was that no one could sense him nearby. The invisibility dulled his scent, deafened others to his cries of help. Yet Weylyn’s mind magic counteracted Basil’s, and he was able to find his consciousness. And Bryson? Well, her senses were already sharper than others’ due to her poor sight.

“You know you could have found him quicker than me from the very beginning,” Bryson whispered accusingly, though there was no heat behind it.

Weylyn picked Basil into his arms and turned with long-legged strides. He threw that familiar malicious smile in her direction. “Oh, but you were having a very good time finding him on your own, little mate.”

Bryson chuckled, and she found that even though he’d said those words, this time she didn’t feel bothered by them at all.

“Basil, love, where were you?” Corvina cried out and pulled her son into her arms the moment they made it back to camp. She held him close, her tears soaking his hair, and he gripped her equally tight.

“My lady,” Weylyn drew her attention his way.

Corvina looked at Weylyn with shining eyes.

Bryson could only be a spectator to the event. From what she’d gathered, everyone always gave Weylyn a wide berth, but she’d never seen the water Elemental stare at him like he was a pariah. In fact, she seemed to be one of the only ones who ever welcomed him. Even now she was looking at him with her eyes shining, admiration obviously glowing in them.

Something hot seared in Bryson’s chest, and she rubbed it away with the palm of her hand, taking a deep breath to settle her nerves.

Even Weylyn looked at Corvina with equal admiration.

“His gifts from Mana have manifested,” he said.

Corvina rocked back on her heels and Clay crowded behind her, staring wide eyed at Weylyn. “What do you mean?” he asked.

“Invisibility,” was all Weylyn had to say. “The price is silence, the lack of essence.”

Corvina closed her eyes. “As if being a mother isn’t already hard enough.”

Weylyn reached out to the woman, and Bryson held her breath, almost expecting Corvina’s mate, Clay, to stop the trajectory of Weylyn’s hand. To slam into him. To go feral. But he let it happen. Weylyn set a hand on Basil’s head before he slid it down Corvina’s arm.

The gesture was strangely intimate, though not in a sexual way. Not in the same way Weylyn crowded Bryson. This was... different.

“My lord will learn to control it. With the right teachings.” Then Weylyn pulled away and Corvina smiled warmly at him.

“Thank you, Weylyn.”

“Anything for you, my lady.”

Corvina gave another sheepish smile before Clay led her back to where their group awaited them. They crowded around the couple, fussing over Basil in hushed, low voices.

Finally, Weylyn turned back to Bryson, but all tenderness had erased from his expression, and he was looking at her again with that mask of seduction. His lids lowered, eyes heating as they roved over Bryson’s every inch.

She wouldn’t be fazed this time. While her body did warm a fraction, she shoved it all down, giving way to curiosity instead. The way he’d been with Corvina and Basil... It made something in her chest burn, like the bond was igniting inside her.

Not jealousy, she told herself. It couldn’t be that.

“Why do you call them ‘my lord’ and ‘my lady’?”

He blinked, though showed no surprise at her question. She wondered if he even felt it at all. “Because they are the High Lord and Lady of the Gold Court.”

Bryson reeled back at that information, her gaze jerking in Corvina’s direction. She stared at the woman, at her son, and she was sure confusion clouded her every feature. The sunlight kissed her golden hair and made her skin almost shimmer, like she was shrouded in a halo of gold. Even with her hazy vision, Bryson could see how ethereal Corvina was.

“High Lady?” she echoed, turning back to Weylyn. “You’re sure?”

His lips pressed into a line of amusement. “Her father was the High Lord, and with his passing, it is now Basil’s title.”

“I’ve never met a High Lord or Lady,” she confessed. Then again, she hadn’t met princes or kings either.

“There is another High Lord among us.” Weylyn dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, leaning into her, gold eyes flashing. “High Lord Clay Valentino of the Sapphire Court.” He leaned back once again. “I suppose with Uric being the only known living heir to the High Lord of the Obsidian Court, he counts as well.”

The image of the pale skinned, silver-haired demon flashed into her mind. She couldn’t picture him as High Lord of anything, though the fact that he hailed from the Obsidian Court made sense. They were known for their silent brutality.

“I guess I should start calling Clay ‘my lord’ now?” she teased, finding the words easy to slip from her tongue.

“He is quite pompous and would enjoy it far too much.”

Bryson pushed out a breath. “So, you’re from the Gold Court...”

There was a beat of silence in which Weylyn didn’t answer. His gaze was hot on her skin, caressing every inch before they flicked back up to her face. A slow smile curled his mouth. “In a manner of speaking, yes.”

That explained his high regard when it came to them, though she’d also noticed, from what little she’d been able to observe, that he did not treat the Seelie Prince with that same respect. If anything, they all kept their distance.

She wanted to ask, but didn’t voice it. Asking would mean an insight into his mind, and that wasn’t something she wanted at all. If anything, she needed to get away from him. His proximity made her forget herself. It worried her how quickly he could crumble her resolve, how quickly she could fall into conversation with him. How quickly he could pull her in and make her forget.

That was a dangerous thing.

His eyes flickered, gold to white and back to gold again. His braid swayed as he stepped forward.

Bryson stepped back and away from him, putting necessary distance between them. Whatever friendship he thought they’d developed on this little outing was useless. Bryson didn’t trust him. And looking at him just reminded her of her own betrayals and cleaved something in her chest in ways she didn’t understand.

Weylyn froze when he saw Bryson stepping away from him. His jaw clenched a single moment before he relaxed it, assuming a careless, sarcastic air.

Bryson almost wondered if he’d crowd into her space, push his way inside her mind, force himself into everything she did. She wouldn’t be so merciful if he did.

But Weylyn merely straightened. “Thank you, Bryson Varik,” he whispered, “for your assistance in finding the little lord.”

She took a steadying breath and tried to calm the rapid rhythm of her beating heart. “No thanks are needed,” she said. “Goodbye.”

“Hmm.” He hummed and took a few more steps back, though he didn’t take his gaze off her.

She couldn’t stand it. The more he looked her way, the more she envisioned what had happened between them. Perhaps it hadn’t been truly physical; they hadn’t touched, but it still felt very real. She’d allowed it to persist, allowed him entrance to her body and thoughts.

Bryson wrenched her gaze away from him and whirled to storm away. Her feet nearly skidded on the ground as she caught sight of Everette up ahead.

She’d been so lost within the cloying scent of Weylyn that it had overpowered Ev’s completely.

Tears burned behind her eyelids, and she shoved those away and marched on.

“Bryce—” Everette reached for her, but she shifted away before he could touch her.

She couldn’t stand the thought of his skin against hers, and she hated the look of hurt she put on his face, and the look that would come after he found out the truth.

“Not now, Ev,” she whispered, hoping he couldn’t hear her voice crack. “I’ll find you later, okay?” She didn’t wait for his reply before she was running away, off to find something else to do that would keep her mind occupied and off what she’d done, the truth she’d have to face, and the feelings it provoked deep inside her chest.

Oh, Bryson, her familiar’s voice drifted through her head, filled with sympathy, sorrow.

Not now, Bryson thought back. She didn’t want to hear it. Didn’t need to.

She already knew what her familiar would say. That she was a stupid, stupid fool.

And she was somehow breaking her own heart.