Page 35

Keltania

“Don’t just stare at the thing,” I shout at Valen. “Get moving!”

The creatures—golems—haven’t been seen in Derriga since the loss of druid magic. The fact that Aphelian can construct so many—and apparently so easily—makes me second guess our chances, even with the tear. Even with Suria…

The thing roars, thrashing wildly. My sword protrudes from the golem’s side, so I pull the dagger from my left boot. It’s not going to do much damage, but it’s better than nothing at all.

Valen turns and backs up a few steps but still doesn’t flee. “We both go. Together.”

He’s stubborn and won’t move until I do. I growl out my frustration and rush to where he stands, grabbing a handful of the back of his shirt and hauling him into motion. We might have stunned the beast, but it will recover. Quickly.

Move!

We race toward the estate. We’re almost there when my eyes start to water. My pace slows, and it becomes harder and harder to take a deep breath. I push myself as hard as I can, but it’s no use. My legs buckle.

“Tania, what’s wrong?” Valen’s face appears in front of me, the lines of it going in and out of focus. He sets Suria down—I think—and kneels in front of me. “Talk to me!”

It’s a struggle to suck in a mouthful of air. “I’m not sure.”

He tugs aside his tunic to reveal a nasty wound. “One of those things bit me. What are—”

“Golems,” I manage. “They’re not normally venomous, but we’re not playing by any set of rules anymore.”

“Maybe that’s why I can’t use my magic.”

It makes sense. It should pass quickly for him, but I’m human. The poison is going to hit me harder. “My belt. The ink…”

He fumbles for several seconds before cursing and yanking the belt clean off. Placing the pouch in my hand, he says, “Here.”

The small bag slips from my grasp, and when I try to pick it up, my fingers just won’t obey. “Healing sigil… I can’t hold it. You’ll have to—have to do it.”

“I’m not a druid. It won’t work for me.” His panic is like a white-hot bubble burning through my gut. I can’t shut it out, can’t concentrate.

“Valen, if I can use your magic, you can use mine.”

“But—”

“I—I know why you deny it.” The horizon dips violently, his face blurring. We’ve never spoken about it, but since the beginning, Valen has refused to use the druid power he has access to out of guilt. Guilt for not knowing it was there all those years, guilt for what Servis did—but he has nothing to feel guilty about. “And I—I appreciate the sentiment. But if any Fae deserves to use our magic—if anyone has earned the right—it’s you.”

“Tania—”

“Grab the ink…” It’s taking all my focus to stay conscious. “Tug my shirt to the side. Below my collarbone.” If he can’t do this, then I’m done for.

He tears open my pouch and dips two fingers into the ink. Pausing at my skin, he says, “Describe the sigil.”

He’s drifting in and out of focus, and my lips are starting to numb. “Semicircle… One long line through the center, another—another, smaller one in the center beneath it.”

He does as instructed. “What else?”

“Three dots…” I swallow, trying to push down an invisible lump in my throat. It’s getting hard to breathe.

“Three dots—Tania, where do they go? Stay with me.”

“Three dots. Single line below the—the bottom of the circle…”

His fingers clumsily jab my skin, and several moments later, the numbness begins to fade. I’m not one hundred percent—I’m still broken and bruised from my trip here—but it’s a definite improvement. I’m able to roll sideways and claw my way upright. “I think it’s working.”

“Good.” His whole body sags with relief. Then he grabs Suria and throws her over his shoulder. If the situation were less dire, he’d probably joke about being the big, sexy hero rescuing the damsel.

“Hurry,” he urges. “We need to get back to the estate.”

I nod to the golem. “That thing is going to recover. We need to get moving.”

He drops to the ground, laying his hand flat. There’s a flicker of frost at the golem’s feet but nothing more. Disappointed, he stands. “Definitely—because I’m useless right now.”

There was a time when he hated what he was. The power was nothing more than a hindrance. But he’s come to embrace it as a part of himself. The pain in his voice guts me.

I stand. “More fun for me,” I say as I yank my sword from the golem’s side and swing hard. Its head falls to the grass with a sickening thud . “Let’s get back to the estate.”

As we approach the house, it’s clear those who stayed behind had it just as bad. Thick, thorny vines twist and twitch, fighting to invade the estate through whatever opening they can find. Behind the main gate, Wren is on her knees, clutching one of the main plants. Several golems lay in pieces, a few feet away. Her eyes are closed, sweat beading at her brow, while Gensted stands nearby, burning the invaders back. He sees us coming and scorches a path, incinerating several remaining creatures and the vines they’ve created, allowing us to pass through.

There’s chaos everywhere, medical staff from the estate running in all directions. Many were lost. Dragged into the trees. There’s little hope Aphelian will hold them hostage when she’s made it clear there will be no mercy for the Winter Fae.

Suveo works with several of the guard to expel any remaining beasts while the rest evacuate anyone they can find, directing them to the caves behind the estate. It’s a temporary fix, but if it saves one life, then it’s worth it.

“That was too easy,” Valen says, sagging back against the wall.

“Easy?” Suveo snorts. Unlike the others, he refuses to wear leathers, insisting they’re beneath a monarch. His robes are shredded and covered in gore, and his left forearm is gashed. “Perhaps you need to reevaluate your definition of the word.”

“I just mean, what was the point?” Valen sags back against the wall. “We put up a valiant fight, but let’s face it—she could have easily wiped us out. She could have swooped in and been done with the whole thing.”

I bend and brace myself against my knees. The sigil Valen inked is still working, but it’s slower than normal. Maybe because he’s Fae or maybe because the injuries were severe—I don’t know. Either way, I’m still not at one hundred percent. Add that to the strength it’s been taking to shut him out, and I’m a mess. “She’s waiting for something. Whatever it is she’s really up to, she must not be ready yet.”

“What makes you say that?” Celpin comes up beside us and folds his arms. I don’t like the way he’s looking at me.

It’s not helping his opinion of me, but as I hobble away, I say, “That little display was her way of showing us she can get to us any time she wants. She told Valen outright she doesn’t care that we’ve gathered the other courts.”

If we don’t do something soon, despite the ground we’ve gained, she is going to win.

Between Wren and Gensted, all the vines on the house are destroyed and the last remaining golems felled, but more gather on the border. They don’t venture close, but stay there, waiting. Watching. The damage to the estate is devastating, and several wings have to be closed due to structural concerns, but still, it stands.

We still stand.

Back in my room, I clean up and change, pulling my old boots from the back of the closet. I lost one of the new ones. And that’s why I always wore the old ones. They were good luck.

I settle on the bed and relax, letting the healing sigil work. It helped the poison right away, but now it’s working on mending the rest of my injuries. I’m just starting to close my eyes and drift when there’s a knock at the door. “Come in.”

Valen slips inside. “Are you all right?” The end of the bed dips under his weight.

I immediately move to the chair across the room. The last time we were on a bed together, we lost ourselves.

“You’re okay, right?” I wave at him. The blacks and blues from the battle are already starting to fade. “That should answer your question.”

“Today could have been worse,” he says finally.

He reaches out to take my hand, but I jerk back and jump from the chair. “Don’t. No good can come from that.”

“From holding your hand?” He stands.

“From you touching me.” I shake off the haze that Valen’s presence inevitably evokes and square my shoulders.

He tilts his head to the left, to the broken window on the other side of the room. “I made my choice months ago, you know,” he says, his voice low and cool. Another step. “You can walk away. I know that it’s not the same for you. But from now until the day that I leave this world, you are mine .”

He freezes, eyes widening and mouth hanging agape.

I jump from the chair and stagger to the edge of the room. My heart has never hammered so fast. “Don’t fucking say that!”

“You are… mine ,” he says again, this time more to himself than to me. “Fuck…”

He didn’t mean to say it out loud. It wouldn’t have mattered, though. Out loud. In his mind. Nothing would change the weight behind his words because he means them. He means them, and for a Fae, they’re a lifetime commitment.

“How—how the hell can you say that? Do you know what you’ve done?”

He blinks several times, like he’s still confused, still shocked that the words have slipped out.

“Take it back,” I say vehemently. It can’t be taken back, but I need the illusion right now. “Take it back now!”

“I…I can’t. You know that. I’m Fae, not human.” His sadness pierces me. “Humans can take things like this back. They do every day. But…but I cannot.”

I scream. It’s pained and angry, and tears roll down my cheeks. As I storm from the room, all I want is to hit something.

He’s right. I’m human. Unlike him, I have the ability to change my mind. I can walk away at any given moment.

And that’s what makes this whole thing cruel. It’s what makes the situation unfair. In the end, it will all rest on my shoulders.

Because I can turn away—and he cannot.