Page 28 of Kingdom of Briars and Roses (Cursed Fae Courts #1)

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Aurelia

“ A re you hurt?” Rydian asked, more anger flashing in his dark gaze as he scanned my length.

“No.”

He met my eyes again and snarled as if finding me in one piece was somehow disappointing. To be fair, I had punched him in the stomach the last time we were together. I was probably lucky he wasn’t the one trying to do me in today.

“What are you doing here?” I demanded.

On the main road, someone screamed.

I flinched, glancing toward the mouth of the alley then back at the male before me. Something told me, if any more of those rebels found their way into this alley, Rydian would be their death.

“More will come,” I said, and my words seemed to snap him from whatever rage-spiral he’d descended into.

“You can’t be here,” he said. “Come with me.”

Before I could protest, his hand closed around mine, and despite the danger around us, a jolt of heat shot through me. My thoughts jumbled. I nearly forgot what we were doing, but another scream brought me back .

“Hurry up.” Rydian tugged my hand—hard.

Instead of running for the street, he pulled me toward the back corner. I resisted, positive he was leading me into a dead end, but then he rounded the jutting corner and angled his body to slip through a narrow opening between two walls. He pulled me through behind him, and then we ran—racing through the maze of alleyways, his grip firm and steady, until we emerged onto an empty street with narrow townhomes on each side.

It was quiet here, cut off from the chaos we’d left behind. And almost charming with the tree-lined street and the leaves swirling along the pathway as the small breeze swept them up.

Finally, we stopped, and Rydian released my hand, both of us breathing hard. I had the most ridiculous urge to grab his hand again—to find a steadiness in his touch, an anchor in the middle of this fucked-up storm my life had become. I squeezed my hands together to keep from doing something so insanely stupid.

Rydian’s gaze lingered on mine, and for a breath, I could swear he was fighting the same intense urge. But then that look was gone, replaced by that granite-like disgust he always aimed at me. “You shouldn’t have come into the city,” he said, his voice low. “It’s not safe.”

“Yeah, I’m starting to see that.” I swallowed hard, my pulse still thundering in my ears. “Who were those people?”

“The Withered.” He paused like he was waiting for recognition.

I stared at him blankly. “The what?”

His jaw tightened. “Did Callan not tell you anything about this place or its dangers?”

Before I could answer, voices echoed from down the road.

Fae males. Two hedgerows over. Coming this way. They looked nothing like the cloaked figures from before, but I tensed anyway.

“What happens if someone finds me out here?” I asked.

With you.

We both knew the unspoken ending of that question.

Rydian eyed them then glanced at me, his frown etched like a permanent fixture on his handsome face. “This way.”

He didn’t take my hand this time, turning and striding off without so much as looking to see if I followed.

Arrogant asshole.

The temptation to let him go almost won out. But a group of rebels called the Withered had clearly targeted me today, and I had a feeling my fiancé wasn’t going to tell me much about them if I asked. On top of that, I was hopelessly lost in a foreign city—not to mention weaponless.

Seven Hels.

With a glance skyward, I hurried to catch up.

Rydian cut through yards and hopped fences. I kept pace, though if he was surprised at my agility, he didn’t show it. Eventually, we ended up at the back door of a modest house on a dead-end street.

“Where are we?” I asked, breathless—though not from the workout. The movement had been welcomed after so many days of being stuck in the castle. But no, it was the look in Rydian’s eyes that made it suddenly hard to breathe.

“Somewhere safe.”

He didn’t give me a chance to argue before he shoved the door open and strode inside.

I followed, wary.

Then again, if he was going to hurt me, he could’ve done it a dozen times over by now. Or simply stood by and watched someone else do it for him.

I stepped into a small, well-kept kitchen, and the scent of freshly baked bread hit my nose. Inhaling appreciatively, I looked around for the source. But Rydian rounded on me, his large body pressing in close enough to blot out the view of the kitchen behind him. There wasn’t a shred of hospitality in his eyes.

“What were you really doing in the city today?” he asked roughly.

“Shopping,” I said, startled.

He frowned as if that hadn’t been the right answer. “What did Callan tell you about the rebels you saw?”

“Not much,” I said, trying to get my bearings. “He said there was unrest in the city. He didn’t want to come today, but I convinced him.”

“Why?”

“To see the city. To see where I live now. To meet the Autumn people.”

Because it had been his way of shutting me down about doing anything else—like actually going to look for answers to this curse.

Rydian stepped closer, his presence overwhelming in the small space. “And what did you see, Furious?”

Before I could answer, voices sounded in the other room. Heavy footsteps approached. I tensed, balling my hands into fists as I readied to fight. Angry with myself that I’d been found weaponless, yet again, when I needed one most.

Two males rounded the corner, and I recognized them both as part of Rydian’s unit. They’d ridden with us from Sevanwinds and fought ruthlessly against the Obsidians who’d attacked us in the forest. The blond male had been the one to care for my horse.

Slade.

He spoke first. “Well, that was a fucking shitshow— Oh.”

Both their expressions shifted at the sight of me tucked behind Rydian. Surprise then wariness then something that bordered on admiration, especially from the larger one.

“You finally decided to tell her,” he said.

“I haven’t told her shit,” Rydian snapped at him. “And neither will you.”

Slade smirked. “I’d say bringing her to the house says plenty.” He winked at me.

Even though I had no idea what he was talking about, heat crept into my cheeks. Was this Rydian’s house? Did he have a bedroom somewhere in these walls? Why the Hel did I care? And why did Slade seem to think Rydian bringing me here was significant?

But even as I wondered, Rydian tensed beside me. I expected him to lash out—at me or them—but he merely changed the subject, his voice controlled and clipped. “Is it done?”

“It’s over,” the larger male agreed.

“And the prince?” Rydian asked.

“He’ll live,” Slade said flatly.

The other one snorted. “That brat’s like a stable cat. Endless lives.”

I tried to piece together what they were saying, but it was impossible to discern whether they were happy to hear that Callan had survived the attack or not.

“Can someone please tell me what the Hel is going on? Why did those rebels try to kill me?”

For a moment, no one spoke. I glared, a slew of curses on the tip of my tongue, most of them aimed at Rydian.

The larger male broke the silence before I could unleash them. “They’re Autumn fae rebels who are angry with the king,” he said.

“Yes, I gathered that,” I said. “What are they so angry about?”

The three males shared a look that had temper bubbling in me again.

“Taxes,” the larger male answered before I could snap.

“Taxes? That’s it? ”

“You were expecting something else?” he asked.

“They seemed…exceptionally angry,” I said.

The larger male’s brow lifted at that. “You’ve never been stripped of all resources for survival?”

“I…” I’d been forced to hunt and grow my own food. To rely on my own instincts to keep from being found by Obsidians and other predators. But in this moment, that didn’t feel like the same thing.

“I’m Daegel by the way.” He spoke with no judgment as he introduced himself. “This is Slade.”

“We’ve met.” Slade winked.

Rydian let out a snarl with enough venom to wipe the amusement from Slade’s expression.

“We’ll be in the other room,” Daegel said, shoving at Slade to get him moving.

They both turned and disappeared into another part of the house, leaving me alone with a male I was still half-sure wanted to see me dead.

Rydian turned to face me, suspicion gleaming in his dark gaze. It didn’t make any sense, and irritation rose in me, blotting out everything else.

“What’s your problem?” I demanded.

“Excuse me?”

“Your problem,” I repeated. “With me. Why do you hate me so much?”

His glare only intensified. “What kind of question is that?”

“You tell me. You look at me as if I’m a thief who’s broken into your house to steal something precious. But I’ve done nothing to you. I don’t even know you.”

“I just saved your life. Would I have done that if I hated you?”

I crossed my arms. “I’m beginning to think the answer is yes. ”

I could’ve sworn I heard a snort from the other room.

Rydian didn’t answer.

I scowled, more determined than ever to understand what was happening. “Why did you save me?”

His smirk was infuriating. “You’ll have to be more specific. Which time are you referring to? What is that, twice now? Or three? I can’t keep track.”

I kept my expression blank, refusing to react to his taunting. Instead, I asked the question that had been bothering me since the moment it happened. “The Obsidian in the Emerald Forest. You could’ve let it kill me. Why didn’t you?”

Something gathered in his dark gaze. An intensity that held a secret—one he had no intention of sharing. Sure enough, when he spoke again, it was to change the subject entirely.

“The Withered are fae who’ve been drained of their magic and now seek vengeance against the crown for what’s been taken from them.”

“Drained how—and why? I thought Daegel said they were angry about taxes.”

“Summer’s land is dying, is it not? Succumbing to the seasons, its magic slowly fading.”

I blinked, surprised he knew about that. But I didn’t bother trying to deny it. “What does that have to do with?—”

“So is Autumn’s.”

I shook my head. “It looks untouched.”

“That’s because Duron found other means to feed the land—to offset the curse Heliconia cast here.”

My heart thudded as his words hit home. This place was cursed just like my home—even if I couldn’t see the evidence. And Duron had found a way to stop it. Maybe he could help me after all. Hope leaped inside me.

“What has Duron found?” I asked quickly.

But Rydian’s expression morphed into one of disgust. “As Daegel said, he’s enacted a tax on all the fae who live in his land.”

“What kind of tax?”

“Once every turn of the season, all Autumn fae are required to report to a donation center where their magic is siphoned away.”

I stared at him. “That’s impossible. Fae magic is part of our soul.”

“It’s in our blood, actually,” he said grimly. “And it’s very possible if you have the right tools.” I didn’t know what tools existed for that, but something told me they would be brutal. “Once drained, their magic is used as an offering to feed the land so that it continues to thrive.”

“But… their magic should replenish?—”

“Not if it’s being drained faster than they can regain their strength. When the curse first took hold, donations were once a year, and it was enough to sustain both the land and the fae. But the curse has worsened, and donations have been ordered too frequently for the fae to regain their strength between each appointment.”

“What happens to them?”

“The first few donations cause a few days of weakness. Headaches, dizziness, exhaustion. Continuing beyond that, recovery becomes slower. Over time, access to one’s magic wanes, and therefore, so does our ability to heal. The weakness becomes permanent. If he stopped there, they might simply become more or less human. A mortal with an average life span, fragile body, and no magic.”

“But he doesn’t stop there,” I said, feeling sick.

“Eventually, with enough blood draining, the body depletes of its necessary nutrients and minerals. The flesh wrinkles, the bones become brittle, the body becomes frail.”

I stared at him in horror as it all clicked. “They become permanently withered.” He nodded. “What happens if they refuse?”

“If they don’t comply, they are imprisoned, and their magic is taken anyway. All of it. At once.”

“They wouldn’t survive that.”

Rydian’s silence was confirmation.

My chest tightened to the point of pain as I thought of all those fae being drained of life. All so Duron could maintain the illusion that his land remained untouched by Heliconia.

“And these rogues—the Withered. They’re rebelling to fight the tax.”

“Yes.”

I swallowed hard as more pieces fell into place. “Callan knows. He condones it.”

Again, Rydian said nothing. He didn’t have to.

“What about the army? They can’t fight if they’re weakened.”

“Menryth’s magic has been waning for centuries already. The king thinks his soldiers can be trained to rely on their combat skills alone.”

My shock turned to horror—and disgust. “Duron would drain his own people all for a show of power he doesn’t actually possess?”

“Others have done far worse in the name of power.”

I frowned at the hard edge in his voice. As if he spoke from experience. But I couldn’t imagine anyone worse—except for Heliconia herself.

I didn’t respond, my thoughts racing. Still, Rydian watched me as if this were a test. I didn’t think he was lying, but he was clearly very interested in what I said or did next.

“The Withered attacked me because they think I’ll stand with Callan on this,” I said quietly. My stomach twisted. Of course they did. I’d agreed to marry him. The fae of this land wouldn’t realize he hadn’t told me the dark truth. They’d assume I was in on it.

“Won’t you?” Rydian asked.

Instead of the hostility he usually displayed, there was a challenge in his eyes. What side would I choose?

I thought of Sonoma. I’d asked her—begged her, really—to take my magic, to drain me to feed the wards, and she’d said no. I’d been miserable with helplessness at the time, but now I understood. She’d known what would happen to me if I’d let her do it. Eventually, I’d become just like the Withered. And how would the prophecy have held then?

How could I possibly save our people as a mortal shell of myself?

These people didn’t deserve what was being done to them.

Duron had no right.

Callan had to see that.

“What will Duron do when all his people are drained?” I asked. “He has to know this isn’t a sustainable plan.”

“When this kingdom is drained, he’ll move on to another.”

I swallowed hard, suddenly stifled in this small room. I had to get away, get some air.

Turning for the door, I made it all of three steps when Rydian closed his hand over my wrist.

I whirled around and found his face inches from my own. “What are you?—”

He pressed his fingers to my neck, and I realized with a jolt my hair had fallen away from my tattoo. I tensed, waiting for him to ask about it again. But his next words had nothing to do with the mark.

“You didn’t ask me why I saved you today.”

I swallowed hard, completely captured by his closeness. The way he smelled, the stubble on his jaw, the intensity in his dark eyes—all of it trained on me .

“Why did you save me today?” I asked quietly.

“I couldn’t stand the thought of a world without you in it.”

My heart raced. “I understand. Your loyalty is to your crown, and I’m?—”

“No.” he moved closer, and I retreated until my back was against the door and his chest pressed against mine. I was trapped, and I never wanted to be free again. “This has nothing to do with loyalty. Or duty. Or prophecies.”

I started. “I don’t?—”

“You do. But it doesn’t matter. Because in that alley, none of those were the reason I saved you.” He cupped my neck. Gentle. Reverent even.

“Then why?—?”

His fingers tightened and I remembered his words from the other day. If you put your hands on me, I expect you to make it count. As if he could read my mind, awareness flared in his stormy gaze.

My breath hitched.

His mouth crashed onto mine, and I forgot everything else as pleasure erupted inside me. His hands found my hips, and he gripped me tight. One of his arms snaked around my waist, and he hauled me against him, my feet nearly coming off the ground as he held me flush against his body. His tongue coaxed my lips apart, and I opened willingly, caring only that he’d finally given me what I wanted.

He tasted like spice and woodsmoke—a combination that invaded my senses until there was nothing but the feel and taste of him. Nothing about the kiss was sweet, and I only wanted more of it. More of him.

I lifted my hands to his chest, running my palms up the contoured planes and hard muscles that rippled beneath his tunic. Then I gripped his collar, pulling him closer as I strained to press my body more tightly to his .

From deep in his throat, he growled, and a thrill of pleasure shot through me. I’d never felt more powerful than I did in Rydian’s arms.

He broke the kiss as suddenly as he’d begun it. “Fuck,” he said, his breath ragged, his eyes glazed.

I was pretty sure I was in a similar state, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. His eyes found mine, and whatever hummed in their depths, it sent a shudder through me, half-pleasure, half-fear.

“I don’t have room for this,” he said quietly, and disappointment speared through me. “But if anyone attempts to touch you, I will kill them for it.”

A thrill pulsed inside me at his declaration. Promises of violence and bloodshed on my behalf shouldn’t have excited me, nor should they call to my magic so deliciously. But I couldn’t deny that they did. Though, something pulsed inside him too. A darkness that felt almost like mine. Almost. Not quite.

Then he released me, the pulse vanishing with his touch, and I felt strangely alone.

“He’ll be looking for you,” he said. “And I can’t let him find you here. As much as I want to.”

Reality crashed over me like ice water. Callan. My fiancé. But just as quickly as I remembered him, I decided. “I’m not going back.”

His expression hardened. “Yes, you are.”

I shook my head. “Why? Callan is not the warrior he claims to be. His army is withered and dying from loss of magic—a nightmare he condones. And he has no intention of holding up his promise to help me find a cure for my people. What reason do I have to return to him?”

If I thought Rydian would be reasonable, the hard-set determination he wore now crushed that assumption. “You’re in more danger than you know. ”

“Because of the prophecy?” I watched as his gaze slid away. “How do you know about that?”

“I’ve always known,” he said quietly.

“How?” I demanded, but he didn’t answer. I huffed, angry at the secrets. The lies. But it didn’t change how I felt about remaining with Callan. “If you know about the prophecy, then you know what I’m meant to do. But I can’t stay here?—”

“The Obsidian said your alliance with the prince was the key to her destruction.”

His words sucked the air from my lungs. I didn’t want to remember that stupid prediction. Not now. Not after everything I’d learned. But I hadn’t missed the emphasis he’d put on the word prince. As if to remind both of us of the reality.

Rydian and me—this was impossible. I couldn’t let myself want it.

Besides, the male clearly still had secrets he wasn’t interested in sharing. And if I’d taken one thing away from Sonoma’s confession, it was that I had no tolerance for secrets ever again.

“I have to get back,” I said, trying to put some distance between myself and everything I’d just felt when he kissed me.

“I know this is difficult, but give me some time,” he began, but I cut him off.

“I don’t need anything from you,” I said coldly. “And I can take care of myself.”

His eyes flashed with something like regret before his mask slid back into place. It was less hateful than before but just as unwelcoming.

“I’ll walk you out.” Rather than usher me out the back, he led the way out of the room, his boots heavy on the bare floors.

I followed stiffly.

The kitchen gave way to a small dining area then a cozy living room that was curiously empty. The space held a couch with a worn blanket draped over the back, a stack of books on an end table along with reading glasses, and a pair of muddy boots near the door. Were those Rydian’s reading glasses? Just picturing him wearing them had traitorous butterflies dancing against my ribcage.

A throat cleared pointedly, and I huffed, joining him by the door. He grabbed a cloak from a peg near the door and flung it around my shoulders.

“What are you doing?” I asked as he yanked the hood up over my head. It was so large it almost completely obscured my face. Just like the ones the Withered had worn.

“Some of the neighbors are loyal to the Withered. You’re safer if they don’t recognize you.”

He was protecting me—again. I couldn’t understand why, and the fact that he refused to tell me only sparked my temper.

“My safety is not your concern. I am engaged to your brother.”

“Engaged or not,” he said, his eyes smoldering again, “I will not allow anyone to touch you and live. Be careful who you let put their hands on you, Furious.”

I shuddered. Were we still talking about those who would do me harm—or a different kind of touch altogether?

He didn’t bother waiting for my answer before steering me out into the sunlight. When he started to shut the door on my heels, I whirled.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“You can see the city center from here,” he said, pointing toward the buildings of downtown, which towered over the suburbs where we stood. “Head there. I’m sure the royal guard will be searching for you. You’ll stumble on one of them soon enough.”

“You could, at least, show me how to get out of your neighborhood.”

“I think it’s best you turn up without the bastard prince at your side.”

With that, he shut the door in my face.