Rose: A Fairytale Reverse Harem Romance Series (Happily Never After Book 4)

by Plum Pascal

  An enormous black shape has hooked a claw into the top of the vine cage and is dragging it up and off us. I snatch one of the vines almost on reflex and clasp it as tightly as I can. Almost at once, the giant raven form of Draven begins to lift me from the ground. There’s a problem though. Sabre can’t grab hold. Not without poisoning himself. I crane my neck desperately. We’ll be too far off the ground to do much soon. None of the others circling above can swoop in to save him, lest they be skewered by swords, spears, and arrows. But if nothing’s done, he’ll die anyway.

  “My leg!” I shout at him. “Grab my leg.”

  Sabre hesitates only a fraction of a second before doing what I ordered. His grip is almost crushing on my calf, but I bite back the cry that builds in my throat. I still don’t scream when we’re hauled upward and the motion almost wrenches my hip from its socket. Deianira does enough screaming for me, shrieking wordless fury at the sky as we rise up and up. By the time any of them have knocked arrows, it’s too late. We’re far out of range, rising to a point in the sky where the air drops frigid water onto my arms and face.

  I’m in too much pain to ask the burning questions. Was this all a waste? Did we come here, risk so much, and accomplish nothing?

  The link is wavering between us, but Draven is able to send one last thought to me before Hattie’s magic breaks utterly.

  “We have the stones, Carmine. Don’t worry. I have you. You’re safe now.”

  And through the pain, I smile.

  At fucking last.

  Something has gone right.

  EPILOGUE

  CARMINE

  The next weeks are a hectic blur of happenings.

  Draven and the others insisted on making a detour to the House of Corvid before we made our way back to Ascor. The accommodations were pleasant, with a barracks that was a little spartan but still comfortable. To my amusement, a schedule was arranged on who was sleeping with whom. The beds were too narrow to allow for more than two at a time, and every single man wanted to sleep with his woman. Neva and I stood by, arms crossed as the men argued over who would share our beds on any given night.

  Of particular curiosity was the glass case set up in the main hall. Within was a man. Handsome, by anyone’s estimation, with dark hair, a striking face, and a lean, fit body to accompany it. He looks as though he could wake at any moment. They told me he was the Prince of Delorood, Andric, and that he’s frozen in a death sleep, unable to be woken without the proper catalyst. I wish I could rouse him. But I have my own problems to worry about.

  Even with the ambrosia forced into me and Ia’s care, the damage from Deianira’s flame spell was permanent. I have a circular scar just beneath my chin where the skin blackened and shriveled. I’ll likely carry this scar with me to the grave. None of my men can keep their fingers from straying to it from time to time.

  Uncle Spryros’ conspiracy was unveiled to the people when we returned to Ascor. By a fortunate turn of events, all three huntsmen’s signet rings lit up when we strode into the throne room after a very brief siege by a dragon. None of Uncle’s advisors said a word when the huntsmen struck him down. I thought Titus and Draven might have been a little too gleeful to carry out his execution. At least Sabre stopped them from making a mess of it. Efficient in all things, my Sabre.

  The coronation came quickly after, done without much pomp. Necessary, now that the seals have completely eroded. Morningstar and the others are out, their scheme to gather worshippers revealed, and their followers outed. Most of Fantasia is preparing for war. Whose side the others will join is anyone’s guess. But Ascor stands with Delorood. I can only hope more will claim the same.

  I hadn’t expected my speeches to rally the people. I’ve always been fairly innocuous. A wilting flower hidden in a shady corner. It’s so strange to be a figurehead, always in the thick of things.

  The stones are being sent out. As much as I hate parting with them, I’ve decided we need to distribute them to other Guild factions throughout Fantasia. Draven will be staying as my loyal bodyguard, as he has for many years. Though now he also has privileges as my consort. They all do.

  Soon we’ll be able to scout for Chosen Ones on our own, instead of happening on them by chance. Perhaps we can train them before the real fight begins in order to prevent disastrous confrontations like the ones Neva and I have found ourselves in.

  Titus is currently on his way to contact one of the only dark fae that have joined our side. Her dragon lover, Veles, is apparently the father of Malvolo, Herrick, and Reve. Four of his children were killed in the last war. He wants vengeance. Their charge, Briar, is suspected to be Chosen. I sincerely hope so.

  With Briar, that will bring our total up to five.

  Five of ten.

  It puts us that much closer.

  Halfway there.

  Half of a nation’s hope.

  Halfway to freedom.

  Watch out Morningstar.

  Ready or not, here we come.

  ~

  To Be Continued in

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  ANGEL

  Prologue:

  The Oath of Devotion

  As there is light, there must also be dark. As there is life, there must also be death. As there is the mortal world, there must also be the realm of light and shadow…

  In the beginning, there was balance.

  Then, with the coming of the Singularity, light was nearly sacrificed by dark when a rift in the Shadow Realm resulted in darkness spilling into the mortal and fae worlds. Humans were completely wiped out until only the magical remained, and the balance of the natural order was left hanging precariously.

  The Mortal, Fae, and Shadow Realms were the charge of the Midnight Queen. In order to set the equilibrium right, she chose four representatives—two from the Shadow Realm, and two from the realm of light.

  These four soldiers pledged to maintain the balance between shadow and light by taking the Oath of Devotion. Thus, they were bound to protect this delicate equilibrium by making a pact, through blood, and witnessed by none other than the Midnight Queen, herself.

  The first to take the pledge was the King of Shadows, a gargoyle.

  The second was the King of Light, an angel.

  The third was the King of Nature, an elf.

  The fourth was the King of Death, a vampire.

  With the rise of the Midnight Queen’s Protectors, balance was achieved anew. But that stability was short-lived, as greed and envy upset the equilibrium once again…

  ONE

  Eilish

  (pronounced Ay-lish)

  Mortal Realm

  I shiver.

  Drops fall from the sky, big ones that make it difficult to see the road.

  I don’t know where I am. Or how I got here.

  My stomach rumbles and nausea threatens to send bile up my throat—a throat which already feels strangely raw. It stings like I’ve been repeatedly vomiting.

  A second wave of chills shoots through me, shaking me from head to toe, thrashing me forward and then back again. Heaving, I’m forced to bend over as my body does its best to eject the contents of my stomach… now just acid.

  You have to run, a woman’s voice yells at me.

  I glance around, but no one’s there.

  Run, Eilish, the voice insists.

  I don’t recognize the name but since the voice seems to be addressing me, I figure it must be mine.

  Go, now, Eilish, run! The voice grows more insistent, panicking even.

  I don’t know where it’s coming from, if someone I can’t see is talking to me or if the voice is
just in my head. Or if I’m just imagining the whole thing.

  “I can’t… run anymore,” I say out loud, panting with the exertion it takes to speak. My voice sounds strangely foreign—high pitched and terrified. Inhaling, I shake my head as I face the road ahead of me—asphalt that stretches for what seems like miles, with only the loneliness of a dark forest on either side to keep it company. And the occasional broken-down car, mostly reduced to a skeletal, rusted frame.

  It’s coming, the voice warns.

  I can hear it. Tree limbs snap behind me, accompanied by growling and the sound of something sniffing, catching my scent on the wind.

  Move, Eilish!

  My heart beats like a frightened bird trapped in a tiny cage. The chills are growing stronger now, refusing to let go. Beneath my armpits, my sweatshirt is soaked, and still more beads of perspiration bleed from my hairline. I’m so exhausted, the idea of continuing on makes me want to pass out.

  If it finds you, it will rip you to pieces, the voice cautions.

  A long stream of snot drips from my nose, and I wipe it on the sleeve of my torn sweatshirt. The drops of rain come down harder now and I stand up, forcing my fatigued legs forward. The chills continue to throb, echoing the pain that envelopes my entire body.

  Move, Eilish, the voice commands. Move now!

  “There’s… nowhere to go!” I sob, wiping away tears. Ahead of me, I see only empty highway. Who knows where it leads? Who knows if there might be more of them up ahead? Who knows anything...?

  More breaking branches in the distance. It’s getting closer.

  Take that path, the voice orders as soon as I turn my head to the side and notice a narrow aisle leading between the trees, weaving a barren trail between the foliage.

  I won’t make it, I think as more panic begins bubbling up inside me—or it might be the sickness. The nausea. The vomiting.

  Move faster!

  Seizing the cresting wave of hope that swells through me, my energy surges. I make a furious run down the path, forcing whatever drive I still possess to my aid. The sounds of the forest around me heighten, as if my hearing is suddenly amplified.

  Branches break in the distance, the heavy sound of footfalls of someone or something in pursuit. And the grunting of something big, something angry.

  The trail bifurcates at an enormous pine tree, the path splitting ways around the trunk. I could go right, or I could go left. Right or left.

  RIGHT OR LEFT?

  At the sound of grunting, my blood freezes. When I turn around, I feel my heart start thundering again, but I see nothing there—only the dark outline of the skeletal tree trunks that surround me. But I can still hear the snapping of branches underfoot. Whatever is after me, it’s even closer now.

  I face left and follow the trail around the tree, then down a small hill of loose dirt. I lose my footing and start to stumble, but right myself on a large rock before continuing forward. The trail is interrupted by a small trickle of water, but picks up again just beyond the stream and parallels it. I jump over the water and follow the path.

  It’s still behind you. You haven’t lost it, the voice tells me.

  I keep going, trying to keep my balance even as my worn tennis shoes sink into the mud at the side of the stream. Once I’ve reached the bottom of the hill, I notice the path takes a sharp right, disappearing around an enormous boulder. I follow it, doing my best to keep my shoes from being sucked into the mud. As soon as I turn the corner, around the boulder, I’m greeted with a massive gate constructed of sheet metal, barbed wire looped across the top.

  Above the wire is a crudely erected outpost, jutting out beyond the line of the tall gate. Rusted vehicles are piled high, flanking either side of the entry. And on the platform someone is dressed in military fatigues. The someone is also armed with a large weapon, and he’s wearing a helmet so I can’t see his face.

  “Help me!” I yell as I emerge from the forest and stand before the gate, waving my arms. I suddenly feel lightheaded.

  You have to remain aware, the voice insists.

  I focus on the platform above me. From my standpoint, I can’t tell what type of creature the soldier is. All I can hope is that he’s friendlier than whatever’s behind me.

  “Who are you, an’ which precinct you comin’ from?” the soldier asks.

  At the question, the shadow that shrouds my memory lifts enough that I can confidently tell him who I am. At least I know my name, anyway. Or, at the very least, I know the name the voice keeps calling me.

  “My name is Eilish,” I answer. My tone of voice is bordering on frantic. As to precincts, though, I don’t know what he’s talking about.

  “What you doin’ here?”

  “Something is following me!” I yell, feeling lightheaded again. I have to drop my attention back to the ground, because my knees are starting to sway and my vision is blurring again.

  “What precinct you comin’ from?” the soldier repeats.

  “I don’t know!” I admit before glancing behind me, certain I hear the sound of something coming. But nothing is there. Whatever it is, it’s still in the forest. I face forward again. “Please, open the gate!”

  The soldier turns to another one who appears on the platform and the two speak. The second one shakes his head, and the one I briefly interacted with shrugs as he turns back to face me.

  “We ain’t gonna let you in unless you tell us what business you got here,” he says.

  “Something is following me in the woods!” I scream up at him. “Please!”

  “You got currency?” the other one chimes in.

  “What?” I ask, shaking my head.

  “Coins. Somethin’ to make it worth our while?”

  I thrust my hands into my pockets and come up with nothing. Not even a stray piece of lint. I look back up at them and shake my head.

  “We can’t help you,” the first soldier finishes and starts to turn his back on me.

  Take off your hat and show them your hair, the voice instructs me.

  With no alternatives, I follow the directive and reach up, only just now realizing I’m wearing a hat. I pull it off and a mess of matted white hair, complete with leaves, seeds and other forest debris, falls down around my shoulders.

  “It’s an angel,” I hear the original guard yell to the other one.

  Just then, the sound of metal against metal screeches through the air, and my attention is drawn forward as the gates begin to open.

  ###

  Silvanus

  I watch the female disappear behind the man-made gates of the precinct and curse my bad luck. I am too late.

  I do not know how it is possible that she moved as quickly as she did, owing to the foreign intoxicant that bubbles within her veins and causes her confusion. It should have been easier to overtake her.

  Morrigan must have emblazoned her with enough power to outrun me, I think. Never mind, the female will be in my custody soon enough. I will see to it. And when she is, I will make up for lost time.

  When I hear myself snort, I realize I am still assuming the shape of the boar. Shaking off the creature’s likeness, I return to myself.

  It will be more difficult to reach her now that she is within the precinct, but I will not give up.

  She can only hide for so long.

  ###

  Eilish

  “Get Anona,” the first guard says to the other one, who obediently takes off. I turn around to make sure whatever was following me isn’t still there. But, no, the gates are nearly closed, operated by two guards on either side of them. As I watch them slam shut, the gates suddenly seem farther away than they were, like I’m looking at them through a thick glass lens.

  I shake the visual away and face forward. Once I realize I’m safe, my knees give out and I collapse to the ground. Inhaling deeply, I spread my fingers in the wet dirt and feel like kissing it.

  I’m panting. My heart’s racing and I feel lightheaded and… strange. My eyes are still blurry an
d it feels like the rain is coming down harder, which makes them even blurrier.

  Someone grips me by the upper arm and hoists me to my feet. I look up to see the first guard from the platform. His face is still covered by his helmet, a broad iron covering that only reveals his black eyes. I look at his hand where it’s wrapped around my arm, still trying to decipher his nationality, but his leather gloves hide his skin.

  “Where… am I?” I ask, but the words barely make it off my lips. They feel heavy and thick in my mouth. I try to make my feet work, but my legs feel like jelly. The guard has to drag me up the dirt path that leads into a town… of sorts.

  “You’re in Precinct Five,” he answers, his voice deep and throaty.

  Precinct Five means nothing to me.

  “What you doin’ out there by yourself?” he asks as he continues to pull me along the dirt road. On either side of us are buildings—some as high as three stories. A few are still intact, but the others bear the signature of the bombs that went off a decade or so earlier. Even so, the insides appear tidy enough—all evidence of the Singularity has been removed. Now, the remains of the buildings just look like empty caskets.

  The Singularity…

  The word repeats in my mind and I suddenly don’t know what it means or how it got into my head. I’m not even sure how I know what the Singularity is, but the information sits in my brain all the same.

  “You hear me?” the guard demands, and I remember he’s just asked me something. “What you doin’ out there alone?”

  “I don’t know,” I admit as I try my best to remember, try to understand the events of the last hour. But there’s nothing but a black void inside my head.

  “What? You got memory loss or somethin’?”