Page 10

CHAPTER 9

M y eyes blink open. Something soft cradles me, and it’s so warm that for a minute, I revel in it before forcing myself to sit up and glance down. Vines slither back from my body, taking their soft pink and orange flowers with them. They were wrapped around me like a blanket.

Frowning, I climb to my feet and look down. My body is whole. There are no wounds or blood. My hair flows down to my ankles, decorated with flowers, and a pale yellow dress covers my body, floating in a warm breeze as I look around.

The meadow of wildflowers stretches on infinitely on either side of me. Where am I? My usual worry seems to float away in the breeze, and I can breathe deeply.

I feel warm, safe, and happy.

That cannot be real though. I grip the gauzy material of the impractical dress and trek through the meadow, searching for information. As I crest a small hill, I get my first glimpse of something other than flowers.

In the valley below is a large tree sheltering a stone, roofless structure, which is shaped like a circle, and from here I see people inside.

I slowly make my way down the hill until I come upon the structure, then I step inside and still.

It is larger inside than it appears on the outside, and it has a huge wooden table running the length of the room. The end of it connects seamlessly with the tree outside. Flowers create a soft rug.

It is the ten women surrounding the table, however, that cause me to still.

“We have been waiting for you, my daughter,” one says.

I notice there is no head of the table. Here, they are all equal and all different shapes, sizes, and colours. Some have pointed ears, others are old, and a few are young.

“Me? Why? Who are you?” I step towards the table and an empty spot at the end.

“Interesting,” an olive-skinned, middle-aged woman comments. “You know what that means.”

“I do,” another responds. She has long, icy hair and pointed ears, and she’s probably younger than I am.

“Where am I?” I ask, glancing around as if that will give me some answers to this strange place. Am I dead? Is this the afterlife?

“Yes and no.”

I whirl around, shocked that they answered something I did not speak aloud.

“This place is eternal. It lies within you and around you. It is our people’s place.”

“Our people?” I counter.

She simply smiles.

“You know what it means,” someone reminds her sadly.

“Means? What does it mean?” I question.

“Anger. Good, you will need it. Do not ever let any man tame it or steal it. You are more powerful than you will ever know, daughter.” They all glance at the field before blinking. “It is not your time yet. That is what we meant. Fear not, we await you. Go, your world needs you. You will see us again.”

“Go,” another calls.

“They need you.”

“There is much to be done.”

“What does that mean? Why am I here?” I ask as the edges of the vision start to fade.

“Remember, Tate Havelock, blood of ours,” the blonde lady calls, “know your own heart. It can never lead you astray, and when you feel alone, find us. We will wait for you.”

The flowers and brightness vanish, and my eyes open, staring up at a stained-glass window above me. A noise has me turning my head, and I meet the rounded eyes of a man next to me.

Instinct has me jerking upright with a gasp, my hand wrapping around his throat. “Who are you? Where am I?” My voice is hoarse, but he hears me.

He makes no move to free himself, and I scan his face, frowning. He isn’t familiar. Where am I? Did I escape? How am I alive?

“Who are you?” I ask, tightening my grip. He should be choking, but he just arches an eyebrow.

“I’m all for a bit of choking, sweetness, but I do not need to breathe anymore. Is this the fun kind of choking or an attack? I’m down for either. I would just like to know.” His voice is even and slick, like water over stones.

He is beautiful, with deep amber eyes, pouty, thick lips, and black hair. He’s also bigger than any man I have ever seen. His skin is pale, and freckles dot his cheeks.

“Who are you? I demand once more. “Where am I?”

“I’m Ronan. You do not know me, but I know you,” he murmurs, and something flashes in his eyes.

“How is that possible?” I hiss, tired of everyone speaking in riddles.

“You could not see me until now, which I presume is either due to the realm we are in, the magic used to save you, or simply because you almost died. I’m a ghost,” he offers, and I drop my hand. “Yes, I know. I’m very attractive for a ghost.”

“No, I was thinking I have never seen a ghost before,” I admit as I stare at him. The realm? Ghost? What is happening?

“Well, you wouldn’t have, would you? Keep up, sweetness. You’re smarter than that. Anyway, you are in the fae realm. Shamus brought you here so they could save you,” Ronan explains, pressing his chin to his hand and looking up at me through ridiculously long lashes.

“Shamus? As in Commander Vilaran?” I question, confused. “Why would he save me? How could he save me? Where is he now?”

He sighs. “You have many questions for someone who was very near death.”

“Wait, the fae realm . . . How is that possible? The fae I know are very secretive about their homeland. They wouldn’t allow a human in, never mind to save me.” I look around as I speak.

“She’s smart, this one,” a female voice calls, and a shuffling sound comes before an attractive older lady leans against a wall, watching me. “This is my house, and I am a healer. You are, in fact, in the fae realm, child, and your commander made a deal to save your life.”

“What kind of deal?” I ask as I swing my legs off the stone table I’m on.

Ronan hurries around, holding up his hands, which are bound by shackles. “You must rest?—”

“What kind of deal?” I repeat, my eyes on him. He averts his gaze, and I know it cannot be good.

The fae hate humans, and they hate hunters even more. The few I know and have been able to befriend made that very clear. They also made it clear that everything has a cost. A deal to save a human?

A high price indeed.

“One you must not worry about,” the fae says. “It was his choice.”

“Why? Why did he make it? Why save me? How?” I ask them.

Surprisingly, it’s the fae who answers. “Isn’t that obvious, seer? It is the same reason men do anything. He wants you.”

I frown. “Shamus hates me.”

Ronan snorts. “Sure, she is right about one thing, sweetness. It isn’t your problem to worry about. You need to rest. He made that clear before they came to collect him. He’ll be back after he has paid, and we can leave.”

“Until then, I seem to be stuck with ya,” the fae remarks. “Tea?”

It is rude to turn down a drink. Sliding to my feet, I eye her. “I must find him.”

“Smart indeed.” She smiles crookedly. “The tea was harmless, by the way. Wait a moment.” She turns away before handing me a small square. “For luck. I have a feeling you will need it, Tate Havelock. Where there is strength, there are those willing to take it.”

“How do you know my full name?” I whisper.

“I know everything about you. I saved you, after all,” she murmurs. “Go now.” Her gaze moves to the door behind me. “If you wish to find him, follow the crowd. It’s bound to be a big gathering. We do not get a human to play with very often.”

Ignoring Ronan, I hurry through the small, dark shop to the glass door. A bell tinkles as I open it and step out onto a cobbled street. Shops and houses line each side, looking every bit what I imagined the fae realm would look like. Glowing magic covers it all with beautiful colours and flowers, with equally beautiful people hurrying around. I follow them with my eyes, noticing a crowd gathering at the end, and Ronan steps up beside me.

“I forgot how annoying walking is. I keep walking into doors,” he mutters. “This will not end well. Shamus told me to protect you.”

“Then come with me,” I tell him, not really caring as I step out into the street and head towards the crowd. I hear him swear, and then he follows me. The throng gets thicker the farther we go, until we have to push our way through annoyed fae.

Ronan looks as worried as I am as we hurry through the crowd. “Who are you to him?” I ask.

“A friend,” he admits. “One of his only friends . . . His longest friend.”

“Wait, were you on the team he lost?”

Ronan simply turns away, but I know I’m right. How long has Ronan been haunting Shamus?

Honestly, I have so many questions, but the fae was right—we must find Shamus. I have a terrible feeling, and despite him being a pushy asshole, if what they said was true, he saved me.

That means I owe him. Even if I don’t like him, I repay my debts.

We finally push through the crowd and stand at the front of a square with a stone podium in the middle. What is happening in the middle makes my stomach roll.

There, with his hands and feet chained, is Shamus, my commander. His head is tilted back, speckled with his blood, and he is pale. His eyes are tight around the corners but open, and as I stare, open-mouthed, a glowing hand waves across his back. The fae’s entire arm actually glows as he uses his power like a whip and lashes Shamus’s skin. It tears open his skin, adding to the many other cuts. The deep slashes bleed, and some even expose bone. He jerks from the force, grunting, but he does not scream, and the hand waves again, carving another slice.

“Oh fucking hell.” I rush to the stone edge, but I’m dragged back.

“Don’t.” Ronan wraps me in his warm, surprisingly strong grip. “He knew the cost when he broke the treaty. If you stop this, they will have every right to kill him. Everything is survivable, but not his death. Do you understand?”

“No,” I snap. “You would watch your friend suffer while being publicly tortured?”

“It was his choice. I cannot make Shamus do anything. I never could,” he says, wincing as the next lash hits, the sound audible. “I do not like this either, but we are in a foreign realm where we are seen as enemies. We do not have rights here. If we interrupt, then we all end up dead.”

“For a ghost, you’re really afraid of death.” I elbow him, and he stumbles back. Before he can stop me, I leap onto the stone podium.

Enemies or not, no matter how much I do not understand, I cannot stand by and watch another be tortured because of me.

A woman with glowing purple eyes stands before Shamus. She turns as I rush across the stone, a knowing smile tilting up her lips as she watches me advance. She raises her hands, and I glance around to see soldiers leaping up. The lashes have stopped, however, and the male with the glowing hand steps back from Shamus.

“Angel, no!” Shamus snarls, his voice laced with annoyance and agony. “Do not stop this. I must pay the price. It is the deal we made. I will survive, they ensured it. They simply wish for my pain and humiliation. They can have it.”

“No, they cannot,” I argue before focusing on the fae woman, knowing she is the one I need to deal with.

“I needed to be healed, so I will pay the price,” I call.

“You speak of what you do not know, child,” she drawls.

She nods at the man, and his glowing hand lifts again, ready to deliver another blow.

“There must be another way,” I protest as I step before Shamus. “Tell me what you really want.”

“I want peace. I want my people and land safe, and I had that until he broke the truce. A price must be paid. An agreement is binding, and your ignorance, while understandable, is not an excuse.”

“I am ignorant of many of your ways, but I will not be ignorant and watch my commander be abused for saving me. Even if I do not like him, I want my people safe too.”

“Truth, I think,” she murmurs, watching me with interest. “Even those who hurt you?” I startle at that, and she prowls closer. “They are your people too. Do you wish them safety?”

“No, I wish them dead,” I reply without an ounce of hesitation, and her head tips back in laughter.

“Your honesty is refreshing, and I find I like your bloodlust. I knew you would be fun.” She stops before me. “Tate, is it?” She grins, brushing her fingers down my face.

I step back, refusing to cower despite her power. “Only friends call me Tate. You can choose if you will be friend or foe. Decide carefully. My enemies do not have a tendency to live long.”

“No, I’m betting they don’t.” She grins despite my blatant threat. “I saved you.”

“No, the healer saved me?—”

“On my order. Your commander broke our truce, he invaded our land, so I’m within my rights to kill him or worse. He knows that, and he accepted this lesser evil to right the wrongs and make payment for it. What do you have to offer that is better than his blood and sacrifice?”

Fuck, this is not going well. They want human blood . . . . What do the fae want more than the blood of enemies?

“Fae, you crave power and oddities, yes?” I blurt, thinking on the spot.

Her head tilts as she observes me. “And what oddities and power could you possibly offer me, human?”

This is a very bad idea, but I do it anyway.

I press my ungloved hand to her cheek like she did to me, and I let myself see and hear.

There is so much power, countless years, and many memories. It flows from her to me. There were many sacrifices to our kind, then peace and happiness, until it darkens and there is a desire so strong, it breaks my heart, crippling me until my hand is ripped away.

I blink and stare into the fae’s pale face. I dared to use my powers on her—a grave insult.

“That was very brave and very foolish. We fae like our secrets,” she whispers.

“Yes, you have every right to kill me, but there is something you want more. Isn’t there? I sensed it. Speak it and I will make it happen,” I whisper.

“Such confidence,” she murmurs as she presses her lips to mine. “Deal, little seer. You will grant what I want most, and if you fail, I will kill your commander and his ghost.”

“Wait—” I begin as she steps back. “That was not my intention. My deal?—”

She smirks. “Then you should have been specific.”

I have a feeling this is what she wanted all along, as if I just played into her hands.

“Release him. Bring him and the ghost,” she orders nobody in particular. “You, Tate, will come with me. You will uphold your deal.”

Yeah, we are definitely fucked.