May

“There is no help to be found in Avalon,” Luke says as he steps closer to where we all wait by the bonfire. “No pockets of resistance ready to rise up and harry the dark fae within their own lands.”

“This was your plan?” Aldronn stares at Sheevora, his jaw hard.

“Do you have a better one?” She lifts an imperious eyebrow. Okay, so maybe that’s a dragon thing instead of a Luke thing. “If we could instigate unrest within Avalon, it would keep at least some of the Dark God’s shadow fae too busy to invade here.”

Luke turns to look at Wranth, who stands on the other side of the fire. “From everything I learned, King Strakk and Queen Belva offered the last true resistance. When your parents and their forces fell twenty-five years ago, there was no one left to rise in their place.”

Wranth’s expression goes carefully distant, not even a familiar frown in place.

Concern pinches Naomi’s face as she wraps an arm around her husband.

At her touch, he meets her eyes, and faint cracks appear in his stony facade, old pain leaking through.

It’s pain I understand, from having lost Mom. I hate to see it in him, but I’m glad he welcomes Naomi’s embrace. If anyone can help him heal from all of this, it’s my amazing friend, who’s got one of the biggest hearts in any world.

“There’s more,” Luke says.

Starfall grumps, “There always is.”

“I saw hundreds of dark fae, although I’m certain there are far more.” The dragon pauses for a moment. “Every single one I observed had shadow magic and could fly.”

Mutters run through the group, with Shadow’s voice rising above the others. “Fuck me. That’s all we need.”

Aldronn stands perfectly still, his muscles locked tight with steely control as thoughts flicker behind his eyes. Then he clears his throat, his aura of command filling the air around him.

“All is not lost. We have the dragons on our side, and there’s nothing that can withstand dragon fire. Additionally, thanks to Grace’s inventions in battling the sluagh, we have defenses against flying attackers the dark fae will never expect.” He pulls his sword free, holding it up so the firelight reflects off the bright-silver blade. “And we have moon steel. The metal gifted to us by the goddess can cut the dark fae’s shadows.”

Sheevora meets his gaze and gives him an approving nod.

“Let’s finish setting up camp and eat.” He sheaths his sword. “We have an early start tomorrow.”

As everyone breaks up to do just that, Aldronn pulls Naomi and Wranth aside. “Naomi, I need you to go to Moon Blade Village and tell them everything we just learned. Ask Grace to make us several of her net guns.”

“Will those work against shadow fae?” Wranth asks.

“I don’t know,” Aldronn admits. “The only thing that hurt the fae’s shadows was my sword, and he was shocked about that, so it must be something special about moon steel.”

“Then we use that,” I say. “Make the nets out of moon steel wire. If you have the machines to make wire, that is.”

“That’s an excellent idea. And we don’t need machines—we have orcs with metalworking magic.” Aldronn’s eyes warm with pride as he grips my shoulder. Then he turns back to Naomi. “Also tell Grace to stay in the village. We might need you to fetch her at a moment’s notice so she can make one of her carnival rides.”

“Do what now?” I scrunch my nose.

“Grace makes Whirling Swings rides like the ones you see at the state fair.” Naomi swirls her arm over her head in a wide circle. “She made one for Moon Blade Village. When we start it up, the swings’ chains slice through the air, making a whirling umbrella the bad guys can’t fly through.”

“It provides valuable protection from the air, forcing attackers to the ground, where orcs can battle them more fairly,” Aldronn says.

“Don’t forget unicorns.” Starfall pokes his shoulder with her horn.

His lips twitch as he adds, “Unicorns as well.”

“That’s…” I shake my head and grin, never imagining a carnival ride used for anything but fun. “That’s the best kind of wacky.”

“It really is.” Naomi grins. “Welcome to witch magic.”

If only my magic would do the wonderful and wacky thing, too. Or work at all, dammit.

“Again,” Luke barks at me the next morning.

I grip my crystal, close my eyes, and strain with everything I have for several moments, not even daring to breathe. Yet no matter how hard I try, resounding silence echoes through my head. Lungs burning, I give up, sucking in big gulps of air.

“I need a minute.” I leap to my feet.

“But—”

I let him talk to the hand. “A minute.” I stalk off across the field.

Morning sunlight slants over the pine trees to the east, washing the meadow’s bright-green grass with gold and setting the buttercups ablaze. The sky is the unreal blue of Faerie, broken by the occasional puffy cloud. Birds cheep, little content noises mixed with short bursts of song. Nearby, Starfall and Zephyr graze, the other unicorns lying asleep on the ground all around them.

Across the meadow, the camp is quiet, with only Aldronn and a couple of his guards still sitting by the fire. Sheevora already left with Naomi and Wranth, and most of the others set out to hunt and forage about a half hour ago.

God, it’s beautiful here. It should be peaceful as hell.

The only thing wrong with this perfect picture is me.

I spin back around.

Luke scowls at me, but he shouldn’t bother. I feel disappointed enough for both of us. Here I am—I finally have a teacher, and it’s not helping. I’m still the same hot mess as always.

Then I remember what Aldronn told me yesterday, that true mastery of a skill only comes with hard work and dedication.

All of these people are here because of me. They’re depending on me to be able to free the goddess at the end of all of this. Hell, one of my best friends is burning through her magic each day to make this possible. If we reach where the goddess is imprisoned, and I can’t free her because I can’t control my magic…

A familiar sinking sensation fills my stomach. I’d let all of them down. I’d let Aldronn down.

This isn’t something I can leave behind, like I did college, like I did Dad, like I did Ferndale Falls. Faerie is it—the last stop on the train line. There’s nowhere left to run.

I need to do this. I need to prove to everyone I’m not a fuckup.

Maybe myself, most of all.

I stomp back over to the dragon and plop onto the ground. Luke doesn’t need to prompt me. I grip my crystal, and I try again.

The new campsite Naomi brings us to that evening looks jarringly different from everything else I’ve seen of Alarria. Trees border the southern side, but it seems like even the great forests of Faerie have an end.

Ahead, a wide-open plain of scraggly grass stretches as far as the fading light lets me see.

“Is that…?” I trail off.

“The Northern Wastes,” Aldronn says.

I shiver. It’s been getting a bit cooler each day, but the wind that whips off the tundra is downright freezing.

While I help the others set up camp and cook dinner, Naomi teleports wool sweaters, fur-lined cloaks, and other cold-weather gear from the orc villages.

I wrap mine around myself gratefully, but being warm isn’t enough to get me out of my funk. This is it. We’re at the Northern Wastes, and I still don’t have control of my magic.

Aldronn watches me with concern throughout dinner, adding little morsels to my plate, and cajoling me into eating.

I pick at my food, feeling wrung out, even though all I did all day was try to do magic. I sure as shit didn’t actually do any.

“I found you potatoes.” He lifts a home fry to my mouth. “I cooked them in extra grease, exactly as you like.”

“Thanks.” I nibble at it. “It’s perfect.” It’s no lie. The potatoes are greasy and salty and delicious.

Since it worked once, he keeps feeding me.

“I’m not a baby.”

“No, you’re my bride,” he growls. “And I take care of what’s mine.”

I go all melty inside, even though I try to hide it. Sometimes, being a strong, independent woman is exhausting. It’s nice to have him fuss.

He goes so far as to scoop me into his arms and carry me to our tent.

Stars wink in the purple sky overhead, and I snuggle closer to his warmth as we leave the heat of the fire behind. The increased cold of the Northern Wastes reminds me once again that I’m almost out of time.

In the tent, Aldronn tucks me against him and pulls the furs over us. His fingers comb through my hair in the way I love.

I let out a sigh.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing we’re doing is helping with my magic,” I whisper, too tired to do anything but admit the truth. “I can’t get it to work.”

“Not at all?”

“Not the teensiest bit.”

“Then you need to find a new approach,” he growls.

“We’re doing everything this one scroll says.”

“One scroll cannot encompass the sum total of knowledge. There will be other methodologies.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because there’s no one way to learn the sword.” He rubs at my scalp with his fingertips, and my bones turn to jelly. “In fact, the warlords of the villages tend to use different styles. The royal family actually encourages it. If a youngling isn’t fitting in well with their warlord’s approach, they’ll apprentice in a village that fits their needs better.”

“Is that what you did?” I ask.

“In a way. My mother taught me her style first, and then I had a rotating roster of teachers from all the other styles.” Amusement enters his voice. “It was confusing when I was young. Each time my instructor changed, it felt like I had to start all over again. When I finally complained to my mother, she admitted she was doing it on purpose.”

“What?” I startle. “Why?”

He eases me back down onto the furs and strokes my hair again. “Her reasoning was twofold. Learning multiple styles let me develop my own, using the parts of each that best resonated with me. She was right. Once I got to a certain level, changing teachers helped me instead of setting me back.”

Fondness fills his voice as he speaks of his mother. My heart thumps with a bittersweet ache. It makes me miss my mom, but I’m so glad he has such a good relationship with his.

“The other reason?” I ask.

“She said it was a valuable lesson in how to see the world from multiple points of view, to see that there’s always merit in other approaches.”

“That sounds great and all, but I sure as hell don’t know how to apply it to learning my magic,” I mumble, then yawn.

“Sleep now, my bride.” He presses a kiss to my forehead. “We’ll worry about it in the morning.”