Page 26 of Temptation Unleashed (Talaenian Fae #3)

T he cavernous corridors reeked of mold this eve, burning his nostrils like never before.

The trickling of water along the ground provided an additional layer of noise to hide his footsteps, in case Grison and his men had strategically placed a reversal spell to undo the invisibility spell he’d woven around himself.

’Twas evident the new movement feared something—mayhap himself?

—with the reinforcements woven into the magic hiding the doorways and branched tunnels.

He spent more time than he cared unraveling new magic and overriding weak wards to tear down the facade.

In the distance, he noted the sound of music.

Most likely from the pathetic dining hall.

He chuckled coldly. While all others frolicked in this dismal existence, his saviors included, he was placed on assignment.

An order that would hopefully dirty his hands beyond reparation.

To trap him in one lethal situation or expose him to another.

One way or another, his end result would be the same.

Death.

His only potential escape would come in the form of disappearing altogether. Leaving this realm, finding some secret place in an uninhabited unknown, and living out his existence. Alone. ’Twas not an option, however. Not with Grison targeting Cael for death.

His step faltered. He scowled as the sweet scent of one haunting woman teased his nostrils and set his heart into a wild rhythm.

She alone burned him from the inside out.

Threatened to melt the black ice beneath the surface of his skin.

Penetrated true through his chest and into the depths of his heart.

Her frame had become branded against his body, so petite, fragile. Easy to crush. Easy to?—

Nay, enough!

Protect .

He squeezed his eyes shut, fisting his fingers by his sides.

Aye, he could crush her in his embrace, and yet the way he wanted to crush her had somehow taken a different turn.

She had felt so…perfect against him. So enticingly perfect that he hadn’t wished to release her.

Alas, Cael, damn Cael, with no regard to silence and privacy spells, interrupted at a most inopportune time.

Mayhap it had been perfect timing, for seeing her cry broke something inside him.

He felt the crack, the resonant snap within his soul, at the sound of her quiet sobs and the scent of her salty tears.

Tears brought on by a mortal who caused her pain and left scars, created fear within her heart.

No one had the right to cause such harm to the woman, lest ’twas him.

He alone would deliver her torture or her salvation.

Bloody hell. The word “torture” alone twists your organs into a knot.

“Focus.”

Daeanna.

He sought a vision of his beloved princess, her golden hair and pale skin. Lithe form always shrouded in luxurious silks. Her eyes, so blue…so…blue-green…green.

Before he grasped the image in detail, Rori once again took residence in his mind, front and center. Demanding his attention. His reaction. His everything.

“Naught. Naught for me.”

A soft whisper that shattered his current thoughts, bringing him back to the cavern, the stench, the reason he’d returned.

Casting any thought of Rori from his mind, slamming her behind thick walls of willpower, he followed the trail of Grison’s energy to the same study-like room where he’d last found the deceitful Fae.

This time, he chose not to enter the room, instead creating a listening spell in order to hear the conversation from within.

The more he looked upon the High Fae, the more he envisioned the day he’d cut the bastard down and watch him writhe in pain before perishing. He’d naught to lose, after all.

“…much longer in these hollows. Our reserves are running low.”

An unfamiliar voice, one Thaddeus filed away. Within the room, Cecir lingered with Grison, and it seemed two additional energy threads he couldn’t recognize. He’d not mingled with lower-class Fae. Not as Daeanna’s favored toy.

He stopped himself from cringing at the admission, for ’twas what he had been. A toy.

Cael spoke naught less than truths Thaddeus hadn’t wished to acknowledge. It had made the sacrifices he committed far less painful to bear.

Choices made upon a heart’s dream without a mind’s logic.

“Send a small scouting crew to Faery. Raid the smaller shops during the night and manipulate the memories of witnesses. If meat is unable to be procured, scavenge the forests in the mortal realm for temporary supplies. ’Tis lesser quality, but sustenance nonetheless.”

Grison. Giving orders.

“Have scouts located a better-suited hideaway yet?”

“Nay. Most of the sub-realms of Faery are under close guard and those which are not are unsuitable for any long-term settlements. Alas, this is the best choice for the time.”

“Pitiful, what we’ve come to.”

“’Tis temporary, sir. Everyone within this movement understands their sacrifices will be well rewarded once we overtake the Court?—”

“Silence!” Grison hissed. His order cut through the air, so dense and heavy that even Thaddeus felt the shift. “We know not of extra ears which may be listening. Though we’ve set wards, they’re not infallible. Especially to one who may possess stronger magic than those who placed the wards.”

“He’s not returned since you sent him on his quest.”

The corner of Thaddeus’s mouth twitched with the hint of a grin. Aye, he’d returned. Once.

“Whether or not he’s returned, we cannot be certain.

’Twould be a devastating mistake to underestimate him.

” Goddess, the tension within the room must have been excruciating, for Thaddeus struggled beneath its weight with a stone wall between him and the source.

“Go. Relay my orders to the others. Be off within the hour. Time runs differently in the mortal realm and it’ll be safest to hunt beneath the cover of night. ”

Thaddeus reinforced the fabric of invisibility with a touch more magic as the rickety door opened.

He remained frozen in place as two Fae emerged, the second pulling the door closed behind him, leaving Grison and Cecir alone in the room.

Thaddeus recognized the two men from his first night in the hall.

They had dined with Grison at the head table.

Messengers. Order carriers. Naught of much importance.

As they disappeared down the corridor, he returned to the conversation inside the room.

Discussion of food and supplies, rumors of Court happenings, speculation of power shifts within the Council.

Time ticked by, meaningless chatter giving him naught more than he came here with.

Monotonous conversation about the business of running a rebel movement utilizing the few resources available.

If Thaddeus wagered, he’d be the first to lay gold on Dagda squeezing them into a corner, biding his time until Grison and the movement could no longer survive.

’Twould be a passive tactic for the King of Realms to initiate. A tactic that often procured results.

“Any word on progress in the mortal realm?”

A sigh. “Nay.”

“’Tis taking longer than I anticipated.”

“I can send Linden to investigate the matter, should you wish.”

A faint tingle of magic brushed over Thaddeus’s hands. A subtle warning whispered in the back of his head. Had he tripped the ward? Did Grison suspect he was close by?

“Nay.”

Thaddeus disrupted the spell he’d imbued.

He would leave with little more information than he had upon arriving.

He wove a simple spell into the wall, ensuring it would not be detected unless one burrowed into the rock.

He’d have to be cautious in the coming days.

He suspected that Grison would soon send his scouts to track him down and relay information back to their leader about how he handled Cael.

They can’t learn of Rori.

He left the cavern, sifting to the only place that called for his presence. The one person who elicited a war of massive proportions within his soul.

Grison held his gaze steady on the stone wall slightly to the right of the door.

Cecir followed his gaze, then traced back to Grison over and over.

Grison fed the web of spells and reinforcements he’d placed personally around his refuge after his last surprise encounter with Thaddeus.

He swore he’d not be caught off guard again.

He’d underestimated the bloody Fae, believing the restrictions Cecir placed on him during healing were enough to weaken his talents enough not to surprise Grison.

Poor judgment on his part. A comfortable man’s mistake that could get him killed.

This eve, he’d been ready. ’Twas when his men left that he felt the glacial energy, the faintest wisp of ice against his skin.

In fact, he believed ’twasn’t the energy that touched him at all, but the strength within the Fae that merely overwhelmed all other residual essences and alerted him to the unwanted presence.

Grison jutted his chin toward the door. “Open it a bit.”

A crease formed between Cecir’s brows. The Fae hesitated but a moment before he complied, crossing the small space and opening the door an inch.

His brows lifted, silently questioning Grison’s command.

Grison waited for any residual essence belonging to Thaddeus to react with him, but with each breath he took, he was met with the familiar hum of his own spells and wards. No powerful Fae within the vicinity.

Settling back in his chair, he flicked his hand, closing the door. Cecir shot a curious glance between him and the door .

“He’s gone,” Grison said quietly. Mayhap he was never there.

“Who?” When Grison caught Cecir’s confused gaze, he watched his second-in-command come to the realization. “ He was here?”