The Harbinger

by Candace Wondrak

  “No. But he also thought his race was superior to all the others. He gathered allies, just as the Human did. Before it began, there were seven prosperous kingdoms. Now, there are only four.”

  “I hate him,” she said sharply. “I hate him, and he’s been dead for a long-ass time. I want to blow up that statue and never see it again.” Faith forced out a laugh. “Must seem silly to you, huh?”

  Light could only stare. He didn’t tell her about the Fae seer who had predicted an endless war between the Dread King and the Harbinger, the Human. He did not breathe a single word of the Fae’s declaration that they were to be reborn again and again until the end of time itself. They were destined to hate each other, to oppose each other at every turn, to fight to the death.

  It had been many years since the last Harbinger was alive, since he permanently opened the gateway between worlds. Now, the Harbinger was not the only one who could cross. Any Human could. The Harbinger had defeated the Dread King, and all had been quiet in the realm since.

  Until now. Until today. Until…

  Light was only a boy when the last Harbinger was alive. An inquisitive boy who asked question after question, so he knew his fair share about it all. The thing he knew most, the thing everyone knew—the Harbinger was always male.

  It had to be a coincidence.

  Faith noticed how he stared at her. “What? I told you it was silly, but I can’t help it.” She crossed her arms. “It just feels natural, I guess. I don’t know. I’ve never felt like this toward anyone before, especially to a stupid statue.”

  The more she spoke, the less likely a coincidence he thought it was.

  “What?” she said again. She gingerly touched the cut on her cheek. “Is it about this? I told you, I’m fine. Slap a band-aid on it and I’ll be okay. I’m a big girl.” When he said nothing, she started to purse her lips in a pout, much in the way a child would. Because that’s what she was—a child. It only happened to be that her kind matured differently. “What is it, Sunnytoes? You going to speak or just stare at me like I grew a third eye some more?”

  A sense of, for lack of a better word, dread filled Light, for he knew he had to tell the Court about what she said, how she felt toward a mere replica of the Dread King. If his intuition was right, and he desperately wished it wasn’t, then Faith was the Harbinger, and that only meant one thing.

  The Dread King himself would soon rise as well.

  “My name is—”

  “I know,” she said.

  Light stared down at her, wondering why she felt the need to call him that. A play on words, sure. Sunnytoes was synonymous to Lightfoot, but what purpose did calling him that have? Did she do it simply to tease him? “We should go,” he said, glancing back at the altar, at the aether in the air. The purple gas had mostly dispersed already. “We’ve wasted enough time here.”

  “Great. Lead the way.”

  “As if I would let you lead the way,” he harrumphed, grumpy in his findings. That, and the strange things he was beginning to feel toward her. He’d gotten through numerous other trips of Humans. She was not the first female to choose hunting on her application, and yet there was something different about her.

  He hated the thought.

  As they crept through Ironfey, emerging in its front, Faith asked, “Did you already take care of the Dracon?”

  Light stopped. Dracon? There were no Dracon there. He turned to look at her, wondering if the kidnapping messed with her mind. She seemed to be in control of all her faculties. “We did not come across any Dracon here. Just the Ulen.” And even that, just the one. Certainly, there were more parties involved, but the Dracon working with the Ulen? Such a thing was preposterous.

  “There were two. We hid in the room full of that stuff.”

  “Aether.”

  “Right. Aether.”

  “Regardless,” Light said as he picked up his pace. If they lingered too long, dusk would fall and the way back to Springsweet would be lost. Only the foolish attempted to travel through the forest around their capital during the night. Faith had just gotten a taste of the predators that hunted in the supreme darkness. “The aether was taken care of, the Ulen dead…and half of you saved.” He looked around for the warrior Elf, but he was nowhere to be seen. Odds were that he started the trek back to Springsweet to report immediately about the aether situation. Human lives were of no concern to him.

  Half. Such a staggeringly small number.

  “Where could they have taken them?” Faith mused aloud, the sadness evident in her voice. “That Ulen said they were serving a higher purpose. What does that mean?”

  He didn’t know. He only knew the tracks led to Ironfey. There were no tracks leading elsewhere, and yet, if the males were not there, they had to be somewhere else. None of it made sense, and he kept quiet, not wanting to further talk about it. He did not like talking about things he did not know.

  “We are going after them, aren’t we?” she questioned as the forest grew thicker around them. The trees that had grown sparse around Ironfey turned thick and dense, blocking out most of the lowering sun overhead.

  “You are not doing anything.”

  “No! I have to. I…” Faith’s feet halted and she shook her head slightly. “I have to stay. I have to help them.” She held a hand over her mouth, eyes widening. “Why do I want to go off on an adventure when my favorite pastimes include binging Netflix and Googling random stuff on the internet?”

  Light did not understand half of those words.

  “I mean, I’m all for it, but doing stuff like that’s not exactly easy, you know? I chickened out of getting these Victi for five months before I did it. I went on an unsanctioned hunt only because chilling with my grandma and watching reruns of Desperate Housewives was boring. I’m not the type who likes to hike and fight and exert constant energy by doing physical things.” Her green eyes darted to Light. “I am a lazy person. This is not like me.”

  All Light could think of to say was “Please calm down.”

  Hindsight, of course, told him that it was not a good thing to say.

  For the next few hours, she was nothing but a raging ball of anger. Calm down, she repeated numerous times to herself, muttering about how stupid a saying it was, for it never worked. No one in the history of history who was told to calm down ever actually did. How was Light supposed to know this? He did not usually deal with hormonal females. Not to say he hadn’t ever, but, well, there were usually other things to do. Like hunt, skin the catch, carve the meat…

  None of his training or his years as a hunter readied himself for this day, though. No, for night swooped upon them quickly, forcing him to find a root that stuck out of the ground enough for a makeshift covering. The best way to avoid the dangers of the forest was to remain in place, tucked away.

  Faith, at least, quieted once it got dark, though she did nudge him as she asked, “Are we seriously going to stop for the night?”

  Pointing, Light said, “Under there.” It was an underhang beneath a root, by a tree that was thicker than some of the houses in Springsweet. They would both have to crawl beneath the root to get inside, but once in, they’d be safe from any prowling creatures.

  She scoffed. “Well, I’m not going in first.”

  “I’m not leaving you out here alone, even if it’s only for a moment.”

  “There are probably bugs in there—and spiders.”

  The darkness of night crept toward them, and he wished that it were day so she could see him give her a curious and disappointed expression. “Go.” The word was not a request; it was a demand that even she could not argue with.

  He imagined the frown that formed on her lips—lips that he was starting to picture perfectly—and she dropped to her knees before crawling under the root.

  “Hope you like tight, cramped spaces,” Faith muttered once inside, “because we’re going to get to know each other very well in here.”

  Light held back a groan. Not what he wanted, though
it was his fault, partially, for talking to her so much at Ironfey. If they were closer to Springsweet, he would’ve forced them to keep going. As it was, they were still over an hour out, and the farther into the forest one was, the bigger and more dangerous the creatures roaming it became. He slipped the bow from his back and then the quiver, handing them to her beneath the moss-covered root. After she took them, he went in.

  It was a small space. A third person would not have fit. There was barely enough room for Light and the girl.

  She gave him his bow and quiver back and he laid them atop his lap, his back resting against the hollowed-out space. He was not a seer, but he knew he had a long night ahead of him.

  “Is there anything you want to tell me during our bonding time?” Faith’s question stunned him, for at first he thought she was being genuine. She wasn’t. She was joking, as she often did. “I want to know everything about you before we leave this nook.”

  Despite himself, he smiled.

  Damn this girl. Damn her and the things she made him feel. She was nothing to him. He hardly knew her, though he knew her kind well enough. Light didn’t find Humans attractive. He didn’t. They were just…not pretty to look at, as a whole. Faith was no different. She stood, at her tallest, only up to his lower chest. So what if she had eyes that sparkled like emeralds? So what if he kind of liked the piercing in her nose? It didn’t mean anything.

  And it certainly did not mean that he liked her.

  Chapter Eleven

  “You should know that I love chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream,” Faith spoke with a grin on her face. It was a good thing that it was dark, otherwise Light would’ve made fun of her stupid face. The pain on her cheek and hand had mostly subsided the moment the blood hardened into a scab on the small injuries. She hoped they wouldn’t scar.

  “I don’t know what that is,” Light said slowly.

  Their arms touched, though it was more like her sleeve touching his. “It’s a snack, or a dessert. Frozen, meaning it’s really cold—”

  “I know what frozen means,” Light muttered, and she chuckled when she pictured his scowl.

  “It has bits of chocolate and unbaked dough in it, though I think that it’s actually baked, because you aren’t supposed to eat unbaked dough. The eggs or something.” Did he know what cookies were? Or dough? Faith wasn’t sure, but Light didn’t interrupt. “I have it all the time at home, even when it’s cold outside.”

  It was a moment before Light whispered, “We don’t have anything like that in Alyna.”

  Yes, because the Second was, pun intended, worlds apart from Earth. There was magic here, animals of all different shapes and sizes, and apparently no ice cream. That last one was a deal-breaker if there ever was one.

  “Tell you what,” Faith said, “since we’re besties now, if you ever come to Earth, I’ll get you a gigantic bowl of it.” She giggled as the thought of him with a brain freeze popped up in her mind.

  “Besties,” he echoed, confused.

  She turned her head, smiling. She could hardly see the outline of his face, but she was able to see enough. The line of his nose bridge, the pronunciation of his cheeks. Near any Elf, she felt inadequate. They were just so pretty. Even the so-called ugly Elves were ten times more gorgeous than any of Earth’s models.

  Moving so her back was to him, she spoke softly, “I am sorry, for calling you knife-ear.”

  She heard him breathe in deeply. “It’s all right. I wasn’t acting professionally toward you either.”

  Faith found herself smiling and laughing. “You were very mean.”

  “You weren’t listening.”

  “You were boring.”

  “Boring? Boring?” He was rightly offended now, and he leaned toward her just as she threw a look over her shoulder. “I am not boring.” It was a very good thing it was dark, otherwise Faith might’ve had some reservations about being in such an enclosed space with him. The darkness gave everything an air of mystery and, weirdly, she was okay with being so close to him. A definite switch from before.

  Faith turned so she sat on her knees. Their noses were inches apart, and for some reason she had the guts to whisper, “Prove it.” She was no good with boys, if her past was any indication. She had a way of messing things up in epic proportions. Not that she wanted anything to happen with him. Who knew how old he really was—with Elves, it was impossible to tell—and who knew how many other women he’d been with.

  But a little kiss? Surely she could muster up that, at least. A kiss was just a kiss, nothing more. It didn’t mean they were fated to be together. Plus, there was something inherently romantic about being trapped together all night, and bickering to kissing was always her favorite thing to watch in the TV shows with her favorite ships.

  She bit her lip, having second thoughts about it. He was her tutor, after all. Basically her teacher for the week. She’d go off, back to Earth, and forget all about him and his sneering, snobby ways, his demeaning expression, the way his blue eyes crinkled when she said something rude to him.

  Oh, no. Was she crushing on her tutor?

  Yeah. That was fantastic. Because her last crush on Finn turned out so well. The guy tattled on her, for goodness sakes, and had her week in the Second ruined because of it. And with her family’s history with anyone with dangly bits, well, Faith knew she should run the other way.

  “And how exactly do you want me to prove it?” Light whispered. She was about to say something when she felt him shift, placing a hand on the wall of dirt near her shoulder. “I do have a few ideas…” A finger trailed up her arm—thank god she had sleeves—stopping only when it reached her neck.

  Holy cow…his hands were bigger than she thought. Rougher, too.

  Wait a second. Was this really going to work? Was Faith really going to kiss Light? Not a thought she would’ve guessed she’d had when she first stepped through the gateway and saw him standing there with a stern, no-nonsense expression. Plus, her teachers went on and on about the rules of the trip, and hooking up with an Elf was big-old numero uno. For once, nothing was going wrong—until the Elf started shaking with laughter.

  And then she realized that he was just playing along. Of course he didn’t want to kiss her. It was a stupid idea, a stupid thing to want. She didn’t know him. Just because they were forced together for some time didn’t mean anything. He was a colossal jerk.

  Faith instantly grew irritated, pushing him away, though she didn’t push him far because there was nowhere to go. “I hate you,” she said, shoving his chest again. “I really do.”

  “Well, since we’re being so honest with each other, I don’t like you either,” he hissed.

  “That was mean.”

  “Mean or boring, which one? I cannot be both—”

  Faith was just about to assure him that yes, he could be both, when he suddenly shushed her. She was flung to the ground and within a second, all she could see was his chest as he pinned her down. She struggled for a few moments until she realized he wasn’t trying anything. He was covering her from something.

  A low, rhythmic growling entered her ears. Similar to the sound a prowling lion made, it nearly froze the blood in her veins as she wondered if they were safe down here. Whatever the beast was must’ve sniffed the root that they crawled under, and then scratched at it. When it got nowhere, it skulked away, taking its soft, eerie breathing with it.

  “I—” Faith started, but Light quickly put a hand over her mouth.

  His head was turned toward the opening of the root, and he waited for the coast to be clear, seemingly unaware of the fact that his body lay atop hers in a way that she could quite honestly say no guy’s ever had. Other than the hand over her mouth, it wasn’t a bad feeling, being under someone. She could definitely see how her mother and grandmother had made mistakes when it came to men. How easy it was to just think, screw it and go for it.

  As Light was distracted, Faith set both her hands on his chest. Even though there was leather betwee
n her and his skin, she could feel his warmth, how lean he was. A hunter had to be; they were always on the move, right? And then she had the most amazing idea, one that frankly he started when he made a fool of her.

  She drew her fingers up, along his neck. She didn’t have to arch her back that much to press against him harder. His facial skin seemed to be smoother than hers, no stubbly prickles on his neck or chin. Not like Human guys. Even right after they shaved, they still had a shadow. Faith’s fingers danced along his jaw, and it was then that he finally realized she wasn’t being so compliant under him.

  He slowly removed his hand from her mouth. “What…” Light’s question froze on his tongue when her hand went around his head, tangling in the longer hair that rested on its top. Not too long; two inches, enough for her fingers to slide through and grip hard. Her other hand cupped his cheek, near his ear.

  She shushed him, murmuring in her best come-hither voice—which, she wasn’t sure how effective it actually was, since she never used it before, “No more words.” Faith had him played good, for he tensed above her, suddenly realizing how close they were, how she touched him.

  He didn’t pull back when she lifted her face to his.

  Their noses touched. The muscles in his arms clenched. In the darkness, his eyes closed. Just as their lips grazed each other’s, Faith whispered, “Got you.” And then, since she always had to win in situations like this, she laughed quietly to herself as she reclined her head back onto the dirt, giving her face some much-needed space from his. Her arms slid off him, landing in a mess of limbs around her head. “I got you so good,” she giggled.

  “You are unbearable.” Light scowled at her, rolling off her, laying beside her with his back to her. It was the only position to take, unless they were going to spoon. And they were not going to spoon.

  “I’m unbearable? You started that, bucko,” her voice dripped with sarcasm. Faith turned onto her side, giving him the same treatment. She’d rather be nose-to-wall than face him again. She still hated that he got to her first. Hated it. Almost as much as she hated that statue of the Dread King.