Page 42 of Raven Rebel (Sablewood #1)

Meara

H umans in rough tunics and dull, scratched plate armor surged from the trees. Without hesitating, Cerne and Emrys threw themselves into the chaos.

Meara gripped her knife, praying the blade would be enough. Brenna huddled against her, sparks shedding from her hands.

“Don’t burn the forest down,” Meara joked. Brenna let out a rough laugh, and then raised her hand to send a fireball toward a human soldier running toward them. Her flames sizzled out within seconds of being thrown, evaporating into white smoke.

Meara raised her blade, ready to defend her sister, when Cerne intercepted the man. He leapt, kicking the man in the chest and sending him careening backward. His head hit the ground with a crack and he lay still. Cerne spun, moving on to the next opponent with the fluid grace of a predator.

Fear seized Meara’s muscles, causing her hand to shake.

She squeezed the handle of her blade tighter and focused on breathing and staying vigilant.

Emrys moved through the men, slashing and stabbing with the dagger from his belt.

Cerne had been unarmed, but now he wielded a short sword he took from one of the attackers.

A tall warrior swung his sword at Cerne who leapt back to avoid being sliced open. With his free hand, he knocked the man’s arm aside and dove in, striking him with the butt of his weapon. He collapsed and Cerne was already dancing away to face the next enemy.

Several of the men turned and ran and the fae males did nothing to stop them. A few humans lay on the ground unconscious or moaning in pain, blood dripping from broken noses. Cerne turned, looking Meara up and down.

A zing pierced the air, followed by a sickening sound of flesh being pierced, and Brenna shrieked. She fell to her knees, grasping at her stomach.

Meara screamed, staring at the man sitting up, his hand still raised from throwing a dagger. Emrys let out a snarl and swung his blade, slicing the man across his throat in one vicious movement.

Brenna whimpered. The short knife stuck from her ribs, blood welling around it. Meara grabbed her sister under the arms and eased her back into her lap. Emrys hit the ground on his knees, pressing his hands around the wound. Brenna blinked at him, shock and pain seizing her features.

“Can you heal her?” Cerne asked, still scanning the area for more attackers.

Emrys bowed his head and placed his hands on Brenna’s ribs. His magic was a dark haze in Meara’s senses. Nothing happened.

“Not without more of her blood,” he answered, his voice ragged.

“Don’t take her blood,” Meara snapped without thought.

“It’s the only way I can heal her,” Emrys replied, meeting her anger with a flare of his own.

“It’s okay,” Brenna said through the pain pinching all of her features. “Please.”

“I’ve got you,” Emrys said, using his dagger to cut the fabric away from her torso.

“Hold her still,” he instructed before grabbing the blade’s handle and yanking it from her body.

Blood gushed from the hole. Meara let out a strangled cry at the sight.

Brenna stiffened, her breathing shortening into quick gasps.

Emrys lowered his face to her stomach and closed his mouth over the wound, drinking directly from the injury. Meara’s stomach churned and she had to look away. Brenna’s eyes remained squeezed shut.

With a growl, Emrys pulled back, blood on his lips. He covered the wound with his hands and closed his eyes. A moment later, Brenna relaxed and her breathing slowed and deepened. Emrys wiped away the remaining blood, revealing smooth skin with a faint white scar where the blade cut.

“Thank you,” Meara choked out. “Did she pass out?”

“Sleeping,” he said. “It will help her heal.” Sighing, he sat back on his heels, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth.

“We need to get back now,” Cerne said. “I can send guards to round up these fools and deposit them on the border. I’d rather not be here when they wake.”

Emrys nodded curtly and slid his arms under Brenna’s back and knees, lifting her in a bridal hold. Her head tucked against his chest. Meara bit her lip, wanting to shield her from him, but he was already off, walking toward the manor house.

Cerne stalked behind her with his stolen blade in hand, continually looking for any new threat. He didn’t relax until they reached his estate. Once indoors, he threw the sword on the ground, where it clanged against the hard floor.

Meara led Emrys to their rooms. Kirrily rushed in, fussing over Brenna and placing a pillow under her head as Emrys laid her across the bed.

He stood against the wall and watched Brenna as she slept. Meara tried to ignore him, but having a strange male in their room set her on edge. She kept her eyes on Brenna and ignored him.

Brenna’s chest raised and lowered with a slow rhythm. Color tinged her cheeks, and Meara took that as a good sign.

“She will be fine,” Emrys murmured.

Her lip curled. “Are you a dearg due?”

Emrys regarded her cooly, wiping away a smear of blood on his chin. “My mother was. I do not require blood to survive, so no, I am not.”

“But you drink it,” she stated.

“It’s my magic craft and how I healed your sister.” He met her suspicion with calm confidence.

She snapped her mouth closed and perched on the bed beside Brenna, brushing tendrils of damp hair from her cheeks.

“How is she?” Cerne said, filling the doorway. His hand buttoned up a clean shirt as he assessed the room.

“She seems well,” Meara said. Brenna groaned and turned on her side, bringing her hand up to cover her face. Meara brushed her palm down her sister’s limp arm. “How do you feel?”

“Like I got walloped by a tree,” Brenna whined. Scrubbing her face, she eased up to sit. Her hand went to her exposed stomach, and her cheeks flushed as she remembered. Her fingers traced over the healed skin as she looked up at Emrys. “Thank you.”

He crossed the room and crouched beside her. “Happy to do it, but please do not get injured like that again. It was distressing,” he said with a smirk.

She scrunched her nose as she smiled back.

Emrys continued, “This is why I wanted you to come back to Court Tara. The Autumn Court will not be a safe place until this conflict is handled.”

“What about all the other families and children?” Brenna asked, her brow furrowing.

Cerne folded his arms. “Those with children or unable to defend themselves are evacuating as we speak.”

“I don’t want to run,” Brenna said, “but if it’s helpful to have us leave, of course.” Her sincere gaze moved to Cerne.

Raising a hand, Cerne interjected, “Another option would be leaving for the Samhain celebration a few days early.”

“The Summer Court,” Emrys muttered, frowning.

The lines forming around Cerne’s mouth were the only indication of his irritation. “It’s further than Court Tara and less likely to become a target if the humans were to march through my land.”

“We will go to Samhain early,” Meara said, laying her hand across Brenna’s knee. “But if you don’t mind, Brenna needs to rest and change into clothing that is not ripped apart.”

Emrys exhaled, a sharp, rough sound. Face tipped up, he reached out. Brenna took his offered hand, and he kissed her fingertips. “I will come to Samhain, but first I have my tasks to accomplish. Will you be okay?” She nodded, her eyes turning glassy as a smile bloomed across her face.

“I will see you in the Summer Court, then.” He nodded, releasing her hand reluctantly before he turned and exited.

Cerne scowled at his retreating back, and it made Meara want to kiss him. It felt good to have someone agree with her for once.

“Ayala will join you for Samhain, she returned this morning, but I am afraid I can’t spare Tayen.” He tilted his head, mossy eyes flickering between the sisters.

“That’s fine. Now go,” Meara said, a smile threatening to break through her serious expression.

With one last lingering glance, Cerne left, leaving Meara to prepare for their unexpected travel.

The forest faded into rolling fields of green grass, saturated gold in the afternoon light. Small copses of scrub trees scattered the landscape, huddling in the niches between hills.

The air warmed and Meara felt as if they had slipped back a season into the heart of summer. A sheen of sweat slicked her skin, cooling her. Bran tossed his dark mane, as if he was happy to visit somewhere other than the white stone fortress of Court Tara.

Small cottages of sun washed stone dotted the expanse. The faeries of the Summer Court were as diverse as those she had gotten to know at Roven, but their skin leaned darker, and she admired the multitude of freckles coating the skin of many fae they passed.

Their horses slowed as they climbed a hill ringed in low bushy trees in shades of muted chartreuse. As they cleared the brush, Meara drew in a breath.

The Summer Lady’s estate rose up like a castle of pale yellow stones.

Sunset turned the sides blazing white and the shadows a deeper honey, while the red clay roof tiles flamed.

While the autumn manor house nestled into the bosom of the forest, the summer palace crowned the land proudly.

From the higher vantage point, Meara could see fields of grain swaying in the light breeze to the southwest and rows of bushes and vines studded with vegetables further north.

“Welcome to the Summer Court,” a slender faerie announced. Her skin glowed with a verdant luster, her hair a warm silver that looked almost transparent. It flowed around her as she moved, brushing over her loose linen tunic.

Ayala swung from her mount and addressed the sylph. Within moments, their bags were collected, their horses handed off to a groomsman, and they were striding through the summer manor.

The passageway was open on one side to the fields, with wide arches supporting the glass roof and defining the walkway from the outdoors.