The Harbinger

by Candace Wondrak

  “As there were Ulen. The two races do not get along well, so I highly doubt their entire nations are involved.” Ophelia ran an elegant finger along her cheek, drawing it down to her chin. “I do wonder if it is a small sect of beings who are simply working together to bring him back.” Her thin shoulders went up and down once. “Either way, it does not matter. You are here, so if they have not already succeeded, they will soon.”

  “So it’s already decided, then. I have to stay here to fight the Dread King.” It wasn’t a question, yet Faith felt like saying it anyway. On Earth, there was no destiny that could not be changed with a whole lot of hard work and some luck thrown in. Here? It seemed that she had no choice in the matter. She’d fight the Dread King no matter how she felt about it.

  Ophelia reached for her goblet, running her fingertip along its rounded top absentmindedly, staring hard at Faith. “Unfortunately for you, Faith, whatever life you thought you would have on your world, you will never have. In the past, any Harbinger who stumbled into this realm—who survived their war with the Dread King—never returned to the Middleworld.”

  Living here forever? Faith thought, stunned. She wasn’t sure if she could handle that. What about Cara? Her grandma? And, she supposed, her mother? There was no way, as the Director of the New York Academy branch, Penelope would let her daughter stay in the Second forever.

  “Should you survive, perhaps you will be able to go back.”

  Should she survive. All of a sudden, it hit her: she might not live through this. Faith might die a young, unfulfilled life all because of a stupid prophecy that she had no clue about before this morning. Before that moment, she never thought about death. It seemed a million miles away from where she was—working together with the Elven and Fae, it was more common for a Human to live past one hundred years. She still had four-fifths of her life left.

  But…probably not. Because she wasn’t a fighter, not really. She had spunk, but spunk didn’t win wars. She was rash and bull-headed sometimes, which could easily get her killed. Faith was not cut out for this. Going against someone who had destroyed entire kingdoms, it wasn’t the same as going on an unsanctioned hunt. Anything the I.D. did could not compare to this. Their worst criminals could not compare to Dracyrus.

  Though Faith hated him, though she knew she had to fight him, she knew she would be no match for him. The moment they stood opposite each other on the battlefield, she’d lose unless she magically gained all the fighting experience of the previous Harbingers.

  “Try not to worry,” Ophelia broke into her rapid thoughts. “I know it is much to take in, but I believe in you. You will triumph.”

  Will she? Faith wished she had that kind of confidence.

  No, she had a feeling that she’d lose. And she hated it almost as much as she hated the damned Dread King.

  Chapter Sixteen

  After a quick dip in the waters of the palace’s bathing house—for he refused to go off the grounds and leave Faith here alone—Light hurried through the clean halls, bow slung across his shoulder, his quiver slapping his upper back with each step. His hair was still wet, its yellow length hanging slightly over his forehead. The leather ensemble he wore felt tight, how it always felt after washing, when he put it on when his body was still damp, but he didn’t care. All he could think about was Faith.

  That blasted kiss. The even worse interruption. The guilt he felt over it now.

  He should not have done it—that much he knew. It was inappropriate, even if she happened to poke and prod him in all the ways that annoyed him, that caused him to feel for her despite his prejudice towards her race.

  But those lips. Softer than he imagined. Her lips were thicker than he was used to, and he could understand why Humans enjoyed kissing so much. To Elven pairs and those courting, kisses were rarely shared and were usually only pecks. With hers, there was more room to kiss, to nip, to lick and play. Those lips.

  By his sides, Light’s hands curled into fists. He should not be thinking of her in this way; he should not desire to kiss her again. He should want to wipe the memory from his mind, much in the way Tarnel had said. Alas, he did not. He was far too smitten with her, especially given the fact that she was the Harbinger. She’d go off, play war with the Dread King and then, if she survived, she’d be a hero. Human or not, the kingdoms would welcome her with open arms instead of disgust and suspicion. There would be countless of others who would gladly kiss those full lips of hers.

  Light was just a hunter, a tracker. He was no guard to the Court, not born to a wealthy family. His family lived in a small hut on the borders of Alyna, and he hadn’t seen his mother since the day he left for the Springsweet. There was truly nothing special about him. As for his appearance, he was not the tallest Elf around, nor was he the thinnest. Granted, compared to the Human males in Faith’s class, he was taller and thinner, but as an Elf, he was simply average. His looks were nothing to brag about.

  She was only rebelling, he decided as he rounded a corner. Only rebelling, like she had when she got her Victi. The mere notion that she was toying with him made him angry. Always trying to be funny, for what? To get close to him? To worm her way inside of him?

  Was that all this was? A fun time while she was stuck in this realm?

  Light was not happy with that thought. Not at all.

  As he turned down another hall, he found Tarnel standing near a closed door. It didn’t take much to figure out that Ophelia and Faith were inside. Shifting beneath his armor, Tarnel’s grey eyes spotted him instantly and he smirked.

  The damn Elf and his interruption.

  Although, Light suddenly realized, if he hadn’t interrupted him, he would’ve gone too far with her. He didn’t want to give Faith an endless supply of stories she could tell all her friends. He wasn’t something that could be used and discarded.

  Humans. Light was right in his hatred for them.

  “Look who it is,” Tarnel spoke with a grin. “Have you rid your body of the Human stench?”

  Light thought about shooting him a glare, but after being trapped in his thoughts and realizing that Faith was probably just toying with him, he simply gave him a nod and said, “I did, and I should thank you for your timely interruption.”

  “You should.”

  “My thanks,” Light said. “If you hadn’t come, I don’t know what would’ve happened. It was a foolish thing to do, and disgusting.” He focused on relaxing his hands, uncurling his fists. “I don’t know what came over me.”

  Tarn chuckled. “I do. I haven’t seen you with a female in ages. Spending so much time with her the last few days, I get it.”

  Light was slightly insulted. It wasn’t as if he couldn’t be with a female, it’s just that he hadn’t felt the need, especially after the Court got wind of his transgression. No one was allowed to express their hatred for Humans; yet everyone was able to call them smelly and repulsive. A ridiculous double-standard. He focused on his punishment for the longest time, not so patiently waiting until it was over and he no longer had to deal with the stinky race.

  No. If he wanted to be with a female, he damn well could be.

  “And you aren’t the first to be curious about them.” Tarnel leaned on his spear, whispering, “Just look at the Fae. They will mate with anything that walks on two legs.”

  Yes, the Fae certainly did. They had always been like that, even before their kingdom fell. A race that valued procreating almost as much as the Humans, but unlike other races, Fae offspring were…different. If the father was a Fae and the mother an Elf, the child would look like an Elf. If the father was a Dracon and the mother a Fae, it would look like a Fae. The offspring always took after the mother. One reason why their kingdom fell—there were so few pure-blooded Fae left, which meant less magic.

  “I am not Fae,” Light muttered. “It was a mistake.”

  A big mistake that he could not stop thinking about. A mistake that Faith probably thought was just a fun little thing. Light prickled, gloweri
ng to himself.

  “Then you don’t like her?” Tarnel asked. They both quieted as another guard strolled down the hall, pausing to exchange quick bows before resuming his walk. Once he was gone, he added, “If I knew of another Elf who was interested in knowing how she felt…” He let his voice trail off as he studied Light.

  Beneath the surface, Light grew more upset. “Another Elf? Who—you?” He did not like the thought of any other Elf with her, even if she was only playing with him. He fumed, which was precisely what Tarnel had hoped for.

  The other Elf laughed. “I knew it. You don’t regret doing it; you regret getting caught. I’ve no doubt that if she were to throw herself at you, you would catch her with open arms.” Tarnel shook his head. “Truly, Light, you are a bad liar. You like her.”

  “I do not,” he argued. The words he whispered into Faith’s ear, about wanting her, feeling like she belonged with him—those words were not lies. Light truly felt that way. Which was idiotic in and of itself, for even if she wasn’t the Harbinger, she’d return to her world and never once look back.

  Tarnel’s grey eyes were unimpressed and unconvinced. “Then why are you here?”

  “To…” He began speaking before knowing what he was going to say.

  “To meet your Human?” Tarnel finished for him. “You are hopeless, Light, but it is well-deserved after you so stupidly talked down about the Humans to the traveling merchants.” He laughed. “Who were you to know that those merchants had sons and daughters that decided to make the Middleworld their new home?”

  “I am not hopeless.”

  Tarnel shrugged. “Then stand here, wait for your Human, and show me otherwise.”

  “Fine,” Light stated in a huff, annoyed at how easily Tarnel saw through him. They were not even friends. Barely acquaintances, and yet he was able to see through his lies about the girl. Even if it meant nothing to Faith, it meant something to him. It meant…a lot.

  And perhaps it was foolish of him to desire a Human in such a way. Perhaps it made no sense, given his history. But here he was, worried and waiting for her, feeling irritated under Tarnel’s knowing gaze.

  They stood in silence for what felt like forever. Time seemed to crawl to a standstill as Light waited for Ophelia to finish with Faith. What more could there be to discuss? He had already told her all he knew about the Harbinger and Dread King prophecy, and while Ophelia might know more, he still felt jealous that she might be asking her the same questions. And as for the Blade, it was locked in a vault a good hike from the Springsweet, so he knew that wasn’t it.

  What took so long?

  An unknown amount of time later, the door was slowly pushed open and Faith stepped out. Her expression was not a happy one, her emerald eyes were a mixture of concern and uneasiness, but the moment she spotted Light, she smiled. His stomach tightened involuntarily.

  By the kingdoms, how had this girl gotten so deep within him in such a short time?

  “Your hair’s wet,” Faith commented, wrinkling her nose, the metal dot in it twinkling.

  All Light’s mouth could formulate was “Yes,” which made Tarnel, who was busy watching the exchange with interest, chuckle and repeat, “Hopeless.” Well, after that, Light couldn’t argue with him, because he felt pretty hopeless.

  “Tarnel,” a light, feminine voice spoke behind Faith. Ophelia emerged from the room, looking as regal as ever, her head held high, jewels scattered across her chest and neck, along with her fingers. “Please take Faith to her room.”

  Her room? The Court was forcing her to stay here? Though, Light guessed that did make sense, considering what she was. Faith was no longer a mere student visiting the realm; she was the Harbinger, its savior and hero.

  Tarnel gave a short bow before walking off, Faith in tow. As she went, Faith shot a look over her shoulder, staring at Light, wordlessly asking him to come too. Light watched them both go, and by all that was good, he wanted desperately to go with her.

  A warm sensation on his forehead caused him to drag his stare from Faith and Tarnel’s backs and bring it to Ophelia, who had moved closer to him, reached out and touched the longer flop of hair that rested on his forehead. She was a beautiful Elf, with long, flowing golden hair and skin as pale as her dress. She was, perhaps, the most beautiful Elf Light had ever seen, and yet he gained no pleasure with her touch.

  “I understand your trepidation,” Ophelia spoke, her hand lowering to his chest, flat against the leather. “I cannot judge you.” Her head tilted the same way the others had gone. “Go, if you desire to.” On her lips a thin smile grew, as if she already knew what his actions would be.

  Was it a trick of some kind? Light didn’t know, nor did he particularly care, for he would rather be with his smelly Human than the beautiful Court Elf. Okay, Faith didn’t smell. Not bad, anyway. Not like he thought she would.

  Light pulled away from Ophelia, giving her a bow of his head as thanks before trailing after Tarnel and Faith.

  They hadn’t gotten far. The moment Light appeared behind them, he heard Tarnel chuckle softly, which alerted Faith to his presence, since his footsteps were silent. She slowed a little, giving him a smile.

  “I’m coming with you,” he told her.

  Ahead of them, Tarnel scoffed, “Wish I could say I’m surprised.”

  Light would’ve given him a glare, but the guard was too far ahead of them, and he didn’t once look back. He focused on Faith, not liking the stiffness in her expression once the smile faded. “What’s wrong?”

  She just shook her head. Maybe she didn’t wish to speak in front of Tarnel. Light couldn’t blame her. He was an irritating Elf, certainly.

  Tarnel stopped in front of a white door, its handles a dark brown. The only dark colors in the palace were of metal hinges and knobs. He turned to look at both Light and Faith. “I am to get you in the morn.” His expression was one of indifference, yet when he turned to Light, it morphed into something else. “Do I need to stand guard outside the door to make sure you don’t leave, or can you two handle yourselves on your own? I don’t fancy hearing you two go at it all night.”

  Beside him, Faith’s cheeks flushed a light pink. “Thanks, Teddy,” she spoke dryly.

  “It’s Tarnel,” he hissed.

  “I’ll know your name when you know mine,” she quipped, gaining back her usual snarky self. “Now bye.” Faith crossed her arms as she watched him leave, shaking her head slightly. “The nerve of some Elves. Going at it all night—we’re not animals.” As she went into the room that was to be hers for the time being, she asked, “I don’t suppose you’d cover for me if I snuck out to—”

  “Visit your friends?” Light cut in. “No.”

  The room itself was probably more extravagant than what Faith was used to. Light had never been to her world before, but he knew Humans did not live like this. Giant, crystal-clear glass windows that stood from the floor to the ceiling lined an entire wall. A giant bed whose frame was carved from a knotted, dark-wooded tree from the forest, with a sheer canopy draping above it. Sheets that were as light as a feather, embroidered with small, glittering jewels, sparkling with the sunlight streaming in through the glass. No fireplace, for the Springsweet always had calm, temperate weather. Dressers taller than Light himself sat against the wall opposite the windows, gilded in silver. The room itself was larger than the hut Light called home.

  “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” Light asked, leaning on the wall, away from Faith as she collapsed on the bed. With her dirty uniform and her auburn hair, she was out of place on such a clean, white, pristine bed.

  “That lady is a piece of work.”

  “Ophelia?”

  Faith propped herself up on her elbows. “She’s all over the place. She says I can’t go home, that she’s just sending a letter to the Division about the missing students—like that’s going to go over well—and…” She bit her bottom lip.

  Light was not caught off-guard in the slightest by what she said. “And?
” Clearly, it was the final thing that was bothering her most.

  “She said if the Dread King isn’t already risen or whatever it is he does, he will be soon. And she pretty much told me that I should sleep with him to try to end it once and for all.” She shook her head. “I know you Elves look at that stuff differently, but—”

  “Sleep with him?” Light echoed, ignoring the last part she said, not wanting to be insulted, even though he’d done nothing but insult her kind. It was only fair that she get a few blows in, too. Why in all the kingdoms would Faith sleep with the Dread King? What purpose would that serve?

  Faith’s green eyes narrowed a bit and she jumped to her feet as she said, “Let me make it clearer for you. By sleep, she meant spread my legs for him. Invite him to tour my nether regions. Do the naked nighttime tango.” She moved closer to him, hands on her wide hips. “Do you get it now, Sunnytoes?”

  “Ophelia,” he spoke slow, “suggested you mate with the Dread King?”

  An expression of disgust grew as she muttered, “Ew. Mate? This isn’t a Maas book. When you’re around me, we say sex or any of the analogies I just used. Not mate. Never mate.” She shuddered.

  Light hadn’t a clue what a Maas was and he didn’t care, for he could barely hear anything she said after that. Ophelia wanted her to mate with the Dread King? Why? Even if their timeless hatred for each other was pushed to the wayside, there was no guarantee that simply mating would stop it from continuing until time itself ended.

  Plus, Light thought with a pang of envy, he did not want the Dread King anywhere near Faith, not in that capacity. Not with the intent to see her, free her of her clothes, to touch her bare skin, feel her lips everywhere…

  He had to stop that train of thought this instant, otherwise he’d get ideas.

  “No,” Light simply said.

  “No?” Faith repeated, cocking her head. “What do you mean, no?”

  “You will not m—get intimate with the Dread King.”