Page 8 of A Song of Air (Fae Elementals #4)
“H ow many are you?” Bryson asked as they walked towards the general direction of where his camp lay. Her every sense was alert to anything nefarious, but so far, she’d heard nothing. Her fingers were tense, her magic poised just at the edge of her fingertips just in case.
“A lot of us,” Clay said. “There’s me and Basil here—”
“And mommy,” Basil interrupted.
“Yeah, her too.”
Had Bryson imagined it or had his voice gone wistful at the words?
“We’re quite a large group, actually. Are you sure it’d be okay for us to stay at your camp?”
She wasn’t, but she was still angry with Ev for keeping things from her. It didn’t matter, anyway. Arlo was always looking for more Fae to add to camp like they were something to collect.
“It’s fine,” she said tightly. “We’re a pretty large group, too.”
“That’s good.”
“Mhm...”
They walked the rest of the way in silence. She often caught his stare straying in her direction from the corners of her eyes, though it was hard to gauge what he was thinking.
Her thoughts were interrupted when there were shouts in the distance. A commotion and a clash of voices, some she recognized and some she didn’t.
“Mana, that’s my group...”
“And mine!”
She broke out into a run and Clay did the same. She didn’t hear Basil’s feet, so assumed he’d been picked up by the older male. They side-stepped trees, feet skidding against leaves, until they burst out into a clearing to the sounds of arguments and vicious threats.
Clay let out a curse. “I guess our groups found one another...”
“Yeah, I figured.”
There was a clash of steel hitting steel as swords met and bodies blurred in a vicious fight.
“Should we... stop them?”
Bryson sighed and started forward, following Ev’s daffodil scent and tall figure. “Ev!” she called out.
The sharp sound of her voice cut through the arguments, promptly stopping them. The closer Bryson walked towards the group of opposing sides, the more her skin began to itch. Just beneath the surface, the anxiety continued to press, tingling against every nerve. Her breathing grew labored, and deep inside her soul, her magic began stirring.
It felt like there was a charge of lightning through the air, making the hairs on her arms stand on end. It was strange and came out of nowhere. She tamped it down, though, and kept moving forward until she was positioned between the two groups.
“Bryce, what the fuck are you doing?” Ev reached for her, yanking on the back of her cloak in his attempt to pull her away. She dug her heels into the dirt, ignoring him.
“Stop it, Ev. Stop it all of you,” she called out. “Stop fighting.”
Ev yanked on her a second time. “Bryce, you don’t—”
That energy within her body expanded as she focused her attention on the other group. She was drawn in by the ones that stood at the front, by their scents. A mixture of things that were so potent, her nerves came alive. Fae. She scented Fae. Fae that smelt like embers and confections, ice and crisp winter, rain and salt and lily pads, of medicinal herbs, leather, and so much more...
They intermingled together to create some sort of potent magic that zapped through her body. The back of her neck itched, and she felt her feet gravitate in their direction. It was like something inside her called to them, or they called to her, she wasn’t sure. But the magic in her body responded. It came out in a sweep of wind overhead.
“Guys,” Clay’s voice called out. “I met a friend.”
“ Friend? ” Ev echoed with disbelief.
“They were surrounded by the Kurreen,” she answered, still staring. Her attention was on the Fae women at the front, each more different than the last. One had long, tumbling hair the color of midnight and golden-brown skin. Bryson wasn’t close enough to tell, but she could swear the woman was beautiful. Same as the others. Though the second Fae was taller, stronger, with white hair close to her scalp and ebony skin. The third was smaller, lighter in skin and hair.
It was the blonde woman that stepped close to where Clay and Basil stood. “Basil, are you okay?”
“I’m fine, mommy.”
“The Kurreen?”
The collective voices pushed around Bryson, rising, demanding, questioning, and above all, buzzing over her body and settling deep into her bones.
“Bryson, are you alright?” Ev’s voice felt like a distant echo, one she couldn’t really hear when her entire focus remained in front of her.
On three women , on three scents in particular.
Embers.
Ice.
Rain.
And something magical slithered down her spine and her father’s words echoed in her mind.
You are the last.
Bryson stepped forward, drawing the heavy weight of every eye towards her. “Who are you?” she asked, no, demanded.
And somehow, she knew who stood in front of her. She felt it as surely as she felt the raised flesh of the scars down her backside.
“Elementals,” someone replied.
But Clay, Clay laughed and said, “We are the Resistance.”