Fae war chronicles the c.., p.50
Fae War Chronicles: The Complete Series, page 50
Rafferty
Body slick with sweat, I swing my blade one final time and completely dismantle the wooden target I’ve been battling against since I woke up just before dawn. Splinters of wood hit the ground mere seconds before the top half of the bust follows, thudding against the dirt.
And it’s still not enough.
I’ve tossed and turned every single night since I first saw her again—the red-haired fae who won’t stop haunting my thoughts. I know she was important to me. I just cannot remember how it felt. How it is supposed to feel. And for some fucking reason, that bothers me.
Remembering her is easy enough despite the years that have passed, but there’s no connection, no feeling that tells me how I’m supposed to feel about her. And still, Wynter’s order won’t get out of my fucking mind.
“The Fire Fae power can only be used if they are touching one of us. So chop off her fucking hands.”
The very thought of doing as she’s requested makes my stomach churn. Harming the woman is not something I’m sure I can do, but her very existence makes me weak.
For the first time in seven years, I’m getting the echo of an emotion—fury burns hot within me, and I know that if I am to do what needs to be done, I cannot afford weakness.
“Rafferty.”
I turn to face Wynter, not missing the way her silver eyes travel over my naked torso. She appreciates my form, which is likely one of the only reasons I haven’t been killed for all of the ancients I’ve sent back to the prison.
“Yes, Your Majesty?”
“Walk with me, will you?” Turning away from me, she ensures to throw the long skirt of her sheer gown out behind her. The fabric leaves very little to the imagination, and all it does is piss me off even further.
Because the only woman I can think about has no business in my mind. Maybe fucking Wynter wouldn’t be such a bad thing if it will ease the storm raging inside of me over Ember. Bile rises in my throat. Not a fucking chance. Not even to clear my mind.
With a low growl, I jog over and fall into step beside her. “What can I do for you?”
She grins at me. “I can think of quite a few things.”
I say nothing.
Wynter laughs softly, the feminine sound grating my every nerve. “Yes, I know, you feel nothing. I haven’t forgotten, though do let me know if that changes? I would be quite interested in what a man of your—size—can accomplish.”
Once again, I remain mute.
“All business then? Fine.” A harsher snap to her tone, she leads us up a set of short stairs and toward the large fresh spring just behind the castle. “I need you to retrieve something for me.”
“I’m working on getting the woman,” I snarl. The last fucking thing I need is her breathing down my neck.
“Yes, but she’s not what I’m after at the moment.”
Interest piqued, I cross my arms as I take my stance at the edge of the pool. Wynter strips from her dress and steps nude into the water. She floats out to the center and then turns to smile at me. A smile that fades quickly when she realizes I’m not falling all over myself for a glimpse of her flesh. “Your refusal to acknowledge my body is quite frustrating.”
“I’ve no interest in your body.”
“So you’ve said. I’m beginning to think it’s because of your mate.”
“It has nothing to do with her,” I snap. It’s all I can do not to lose control of the volatile energy in my veins. And to be honest, if dark magic had any effect on ancients, I would have already killed them all.
Wynter loves getting under my skin. It’s her favorite pastime aside from plunging Faerie into pure chaos. “Very well. What I seek is not here in Faerie but rather in the Veil.”
“Which is out of reach, given my current circumstances.”
“Yes, your wings. I understand that.” She raises a hand, and power shimmers up her arm. Then, she snaps her fingers, and it shoots across the distance and slams into my chest. I’m thrown back, the oxygen pushed from my lungs from the sheer force.
But even that is nothing compared to the pain that shoots through my body. I jerk upward, agony burning up my spine and into my shoulders. I clench my teeth to keep silent as the pain continues building then explodes, a dozen tiny shards that shoot through my veins.
I’ve no clue how long I lie on the ground, but eventually, the pain subsides to little more than an ache, and I’m able to breathe.
It’s then the anger kicks in. “What the fuck did you do to me?” I demand as I push to my feet.
Wynter smiles. “Use your wings.”
“I have no wings.” Something her kind loved torturing me about before they realized not even their ancient power could keep me from killing them.
“No?” she questions, arching an eyebrow as she floats onto her back.
It’s then I feel a familiar tingle spreading from my shoulder blades. Warmth burns in my chest as I glance to my left and see a massive obsidian wing stretching out in that direction. I whip my head to the right only to take in the same sight.
“Are these real?”
“Why wouldn’t they be?”
I don’t answer her because she knows why. Her kind, they’re masters of illusion.
Wynter rolls her eyes. “Try them out, Rafferty. I have remade your wings. No trick, no illusion, a gift from me to you. A one-time thing, though. I had to kill a witch for that power.”
I flex them, control returning despite having been sliced from my body nearly a decade ago. Bending my knees, I jump and take to the sky. Wind slips past me, the familiar joy rooting within me despite my disconnection from feelings.
But this—this is me. This is power. My wings are strong—they are what make me a fae, and I’ve been far too long without them. I shoot toward the sky then dive straight to the ground, only to twist and come back up again.
By the time I land on the ground, Wynter is already out of the water, dressed, and sitting by the edge, wearing a smile on her face.
“Thank you, My Queen,” I bow my head and press my fist to my chest.
“You are welcome.” She holds out a delicate hand, so I take it and pull her to her feet. “Now, getting to the Veil will no longer be a problem?”
“No.”
“Perfect.”
“What am I retrieving from the Veil?”
“My pet,” she tells me as she slips back into her dress. At my non-answer, she smiles. “Not replacing you, my sweet. This pet will prove quite useful against the fire fae.”
Something unrecognizable churns in my stomach—fear, perhaps? “How so?”
“It is impervious to fire, our last attempt at saving ourselves from their genocide. The creature was created by a powerful witch who spelled a forest animal she came across. It is nearly indestructible. And, it will absorb her power, making it possible to turn her very flames against her.”
“You believe this thing can defeat the fire fae?”
Her silver gaze narrows on me. “I know it can destroy the fire fae.”
She’s terrified of Ember— that much is easy enough to see. It’s nearly the same reaction the others had when she first showed her power. I would be lying to myself if I didn’t admit that the sight of her bathed in flames hadn’t resonated with the power inside of me.
She is strong, this fire fae. And the energy in me wants to possess that power. Even if I control it long enough to destroy the ancients before taking the throne. Still, holding Wynter’s trust is necessary in the event I cannot reach the fire fae. “Very well. How do I keep it from devouring me?”
Wynter holds out her hand, and a fae materializes beside her, holding a tray boasting a silver dagger and a glass vial. She lifts the dagger first then slides it over the tip of her finger. Blood wells to the surface and she quickly places the drops into the vial and offers it to me.
“It will not attack as long as you carry that,” she tells me right before sucking on the tip of her finger for far longer than necessary.
“You’re sure?”
“I am.” She grins at me. “Bring my beasty back to me.”
“And how do I find it?”
“The creature prison is not hard to reach. Once you arrive in the Veil, simply look for the fog.” She presses a palm to my chest. “Do hurry, though, Rafferty. I’ll need it to slaughter your mate.”
Chapter 8
Ember
“Are you sure you’re up for this?” Sullivan asks me for the hundredth time this morning. I glance back at him as I fumble with a leather holster Rainey instructed me to strap to my thigh. For the third time, I fail to get the hole through without dropping it, the weight of the blade pulling it out of my shaking fingers.
“Here.” Sullivan kneels and secures it for me before straightening.
After a deep, shaky breath, I nod. “I am. Promise.”
“You’ve only been training for a few weeks.”
“Yes, but I’m a quick learner.”
He narrows his gaze and shakes his head. “You should stay behind. This isn’t smart.”
“Easy there, Rip. She’s the only one who can actually put the ancients down,” Rainey calls over as she slips into her shoulder holster.
He whirls on her. “And your plan is to parade her around outside the security of the Thicket. How is that smart?”
“We’re all going to be nice and close,” Elijah tells him. “Ember needs to get out sooner or later.”
Sullivan’s face flushes, and he shakes his head in disagreement. While I can appreciate him wanting to protect me, I don’t appreciate him trying to force me into a padded room. This became my fight, too, over the last few months—years by their time—and as fate would have it, I’m the only one with the power to keep the ancients from coming back over and over again.
Wally materializes beside me. “Ready to go?”
Sullivan glares at my father. “I cannot believe you, of all people, are okay with this.”
“With what?”
“Me going outside,” I reply. “Sullivan thinks it’s too soon.”
“Even if I didn’t agree, what could I do about it? She’s an adult. My blood relation to her does not change that.” It’s a simple answer. Even as it lets me know Wally does not necessarily appreciate my going outside.
Sullivan shakes his head, but I can see the understanding on his face. There is no way I’m sitting out anymore. I’ve been here long enough to get a decent grasp on my power, and I’m desperate to get out and do something.
Rafferty has not come around since our confrontation, and I’m past the point of sitting around. Honestly, once I’ve tested my ability to kill an ancient, I might just go get him myself. Maybe then—I stop and face Wally, an idea slamming into me that is so simple I cannot believe I didn’t think of it before. My eyes widen, heart rate increasing as hope floods my system. “I know how to save him.”
“Rafferty?”
“Yes,” I all but breathe the word as I envision having my Rafferty back. The man who held me while I was dying. Who stroked my hair when I was sick to my stomach.
“How?” Rainey asks, crossing her arms.
“Well, okay, maybe not entirely, but I do know how to get him alone long enough to hopefully get him to focus.”
Rainey arches a dark brow. “You do know that a dark fae has no soul, correct? And given how long Rafferty has been dark, I’m willing to bet his is all gone. You cannot save something that is no longer there.”
“Rafferty has to still have a soul,” I tell her. “Because otherwise, he’s lost, something I am not willing to believe just yet. Maybe, if I can get him alone long enough, I can find out for sure.”
“And just how do you plan to get him alone?” Wally asks. “It’s not as though he’ll step aside to have a private conversation with you.”
“No,” I agree. “But he will if there is no other choice.” When no one immediately starts talking, I continue, “Can an ancient take a non-ancient into the prison?”
Wally blanches, and Rainey pales.
“You want to take him to the place you managed to waste seven years trying to escape? Are you fucking serious?” Her expression hardens.
“For you guys, it was seven years. For us, it was mere hours.” I turn to Wally. “Is it possible?”
“Well, yes. But it won’t do you any good because Rafferty will just dematerialize out of there. The prison won’t hold him.”
Excitement and hope pulsate through me. “Rafferty cannot dematerialize,” I tell him. “Taranus removed his wings.”
Wally straightens, and he arches an eyebrow as he considers my plan. Well, half-plan at best. But it’s something. “Then, yes, I suppose that would work to trap him.”
“Except there’s still no telling if there is any Rafferty left to save,” Sullivan reminds me. “You could just be trapping yourself with a dark fae who has every reason to want you dead.”
“That’s a risk I’m willing to take. Besides, it’s not like I can die.” I glance at Wally, who does not seem to find any humor in my attempt at a dark joke.
“And as soon as he discovers that, think of all he could put you through before you finally escape.”
We all whirl, surprised to find Ridley standing directly behind us.
“He won’t,” I say with the utmost conviction. “I know him, Ridley. He won’t hurt me.”
“Ember, I want him back as much as you do, but are you truly willing to risk your sanity to do so?”
I step toward him. “If you truly want him back so badly, how can you honestly ask me that? Rafferty is your brother. Your blood. And he’s my mate. Life without him does not make sense. I have to save him. Wouldn’t you do the same for Rachel?”
He swallows hard and casts his gaze away from mine as he slowly shakes his head angrily. I know what he’s dealing with even if he refuses to admit it. Accepting that Rafferty might be able to be saved means accepting that there is hope when he’s tried so hard to push it aside.
Having hope means having his heart broken all over again, and if anyone can understand wanting to refute it, it’s me. I step closer and place my hand on his arm. “I’m going to bring him home, Ridley. Whatever the cost, whatever the consequences. I am going to bring Rafferty back.”
Ridley pauses a moment then steps back. “I sure hope you’re right, Ember. Otherwise, you’re signing yourself up for torture.”
My mind drifts back to my time with Ailis and the ancients. To having my tongue cut from my mouth. I very much doubt anything Rafferty could do to me will top that, but if it comes close—a shiver runs up my spine.
“The second I get an opportunity to grab him, I’m taking it.”
We take form at the epicenter of destruction. Buildings burned to ash long ago are now overgrown with ivy. The only living beings in this place are the small animals who have taken up residence amidst what I imagine used to be a bustling village.
Food carts—or what’s left of them—are broken down, the food that used to be inside now turned to compost. These people left in a hurry—and they left a long time ago.
“What are we looking for?” I question.
“Monsters or ancients,” Rainey replies. “We’re here to hunt both.”
“Keep your eyes out,” Ridley orders.
Rainey moves to my left, Wally to my right, Sullivan beside Ridley and Falcon. “Weapons out at all times. And remember, you get an ancient, debilitate them so Ember has a chance to put them out of play for good.”
My heart thunders within my chest, nerves and adrenaline fighting for top spot. On one hand, I’m happy to be of some use after spending so much time unable to do—well—anything. But on the other hand, I sincerely hope I don’t let them down.
It amazes me how much I’ve changed. Even since the time with Ailis. Before, I don’t know that I would have been able to take a life—even an ancient one. Now, though? Now I can’t wait to look the assholes in the eyes and see their fear.
It’s almost twisted, and maybe that should bother me. But after everything they’ve put me through? After everything they’ve done to those I care about?
Fuck them. They deserve to burn.
Alongside Wally and Rainey, I move through the town, taking in the horrible scene surrounding what Ridley told me happened here. Apparently, this was one of the largest trade areas in Faerie, and it was hit really hard about a year ago. The fae who remained behind scattered soon after—that or they went underground.
Some were captured. Tortured. Enslaved.
He told me that the Damned Souls like to linger near areas where horrible things have happened, something about the energy signature, so we’re here today, hunting them in hopes that my power will not just work on the ancients but them as well.
Wally is not so sure. But even he admitted it wouldn’t be a bad thing to know. Especially since they’ve become quite a problem for the rebels in recent history. My mind takes me back to seeing Paulina in that camp after we returned home from our time spent with the pixies.
She’d been little more than a shell, her soul twisted into something unrecognizable by the creatures who were too damned to move into the afterlife. To save anyone else from that fate alone makes this risk worthwhile.
“Ancients like to linger amidst the damage they’ve caused because, occasionally, fae will return after a while,” Rainey explains. “We’re here looking for them or anything else that doesn’t belong. Faerie is crawling with monsters these days.” She clasps me on the shoulder. “And you could use some practice.”
Something shifts in the shadows, so we all turn toward it. A shiver of awareness creeps up my spine, a sense that danger is somewhere near.
My thoughts drift back to the pookas who captured me twice, and both times—they nearly ate me. Would have if Rafferty hadn’t shown up right in the nick of time.
A wall of muscled warrior rushing into the cavern, his eyes blazing as he destroyed the pooka camp. Magic simmers along my skin, and the ground falls out from beneath my feet. When I take form again, I’m standing beside a river. It roars straight ahead, the crushing sound of white water all I can hear aside from the heavy thundering of my own heart.
