by Bailey Dark
Cleo is perched on the windowsill, admiring her view over the rocky marshlands outside. Her bloodred cloak is draped over a chair and her hair spills over her shoulder in loose waves. It looks nothing like Verity’s, and I wonder silently if she got her hair from her father. I drag a chair towards her, letting it scrape loudly across the stone floor to announce my presence. Cleo scowls, finally turning towards me.
“What could the great Fae King want now?” She asks, lip curling.
“I’d like to bring you to meet with the First Bloodbane,” I say. If Cleo knows anything about this new threat, perhaps she and the old witch can share information.
She pastes a look of disinterest on her face, but I see the glint of curiosity in her eyes. “Why?”
“Call it kindness,” I say lightly, sarcastically.
“Such a generous King,” she drawls. After a moment she looses a heavy sigh and stands. “Fine, take me to her.”
She grabs her Bloodbane cloak and wraps it around herself as we take the stairs down to my office, where I know the old witch is waiting. I glance over my shoulder, noticing the gentle curve of Cleo’s girlish nose is the same as Verity’s. She catches my eye and glowers at me silently.
“You don’t want to meet her?” I ask quietly.
Cleo knows of whom I speak. “No,” she snaps. “And it’s none of your business.”
I don't quip that as the man who loves Verity with his entire being, it is my business. Instead, I lead her silently into the room where the old witch waits for us. I close the door behind us, surprised to see Erzur keeping the witch company. If one could say glowering at an old, wizened woman is keeping her company.
“Altair,” Erzur says irritably.
“What a pleasure to see you so early in the morning,” I say, smiling sarcastically. I turn to the old witch. “You may have met in passing, but this is Cleo.”
Cleo looks the First Bloodbane up and down, assessing her. To my surprise, she has no sarcastic comment or witty remark. She sits stoically, as if giving the old witch some form of silent respect. I wait for the old witch to lower herself into a chair near Cleo before joining them. I lace my fingers together, turning away from Erzur.
“We need to know more about the Shades; what kind of a threat they pose, what they want, how to stop them,” I say.
Cleo’s eyes flash, reminding me instantly of Verity and her fiery anger. “The Shades are nothing more than a myth.”
I sag. “What are the myths?”
“That they can bend the dark god himself to their will. That they feed on fear and darkness. In the stories, if they’re freed, they’ll be the end of this world,” Cleo explains, looking unbothered. “But they’re only stories.”
“I’m afraid you’re not quite right,” the old witch says with her warbling voice.
Cleo’s eyes snap towards her and her lip curls. “And what would you know of it? You haven’t lived with the sisters for eons.”
“I have my own sisters. And we are ruled by no one.” The witch’s voice is calm, but her indigo eyes bore into Cleo.
Cleo shifts. “Perhaps the stories are different in the wastelands,” she relents.
The old witch studies her appraisingly. “The stories are much the same, but we know they aren’t stories. There are records of the Shades in the ruins throughout the wastelands. They almost succeeded once before and will try again unless they’re defeated.”
“They almost made it out of the ether?” I chew the inside of my cheek. “How were they stopped?”
“I don’t know.” The witch shakes her head. “I must return to the wastelands, to my sisters, and find more information.”
Cleo looks jealously at the old woman. She opens her mouth to speak but the clicking of Erzur's nails on the table catches our attention. Cleo's eyes narrow at the ebony queen and she smiles like a cat with a mouse in its paws. "Is there something you would like to add, Fae?"
Erzur scowls. “Indeed, Bloodbane.” They glower at each other before Erzur turns her attention on me. “There’s no need to prepare for war, Altair. You heard it yourself, we know very little of these Shades. They can’t leave the ether on their own and they’ve already failed once. This doesn’t require your attention.”
I sense she has her own suggestion. I loose a long breath, quelling my irritation. None of us would be here, if it weren’t for her. “And what does require my attention?” I ask coolly.
“We should be planning a wedding, not a war.” She stands, her gentle curves and lean figure draped attractively in a soft, gauzy gown. She curls her fingers over my shoulder. “Set a date.”
My thoughts flash back to this morning, to the strength it took me to shift back from the curse. I shake my head. “Later. Alnembra must be recovered, debts must be paid. And the Shades are not an imaginary threat.”
“Then I retract my support,” Erzur quips. “Alnembra will be weak, ripe for the taking by some of your northern neighbors.”
“Erzur,” I say, voice low and dangerous as anger flares in my chest. “Don’t threaten me.”
“Or what?” She bites back.
I rise, towering over her. My eyes are dark and shadowed and I curl my lip at her. “I won’t tolerate threats to my people. Surely, you’ve seen enough to know this. Don’t forget, I’ve been a beast for a thousand years. I can summon the more demonic parts of my nature readily. All manner of things could happen.”
Her lip quivers almost imperceptibly but she sticks out her chin. “Set a date, or I leave.”
I consider letting her walk out of here, taking her sun soldiers with her. It would free me of my obligations, but I know what will happen when she leaves. Word will spread quickly, and as my people return, enemies will descend on us. I bare my teeth at her, nostrils flaring angrily because I know all I’ve done is bluff. And she called me.
“Winter’s Eve,” I growl through gritted teeth.
She smiles. “Excellent,” She purrs.
I clench my hands into fists at my side, anger furling and unfurling in my chest. Erzur slips from the room, a bounce in her step. I run my tongue over my teeth and inhale sharply. I want to wrap my hands around her ebony neck and squeeze until her eyes bulge. I want to toss her over the balcony into the tumultuous waves and run across the land to find Verity and tell her that we’re free now. I hear a gentle noise, the old witch clearing her throat, and realize that I’m breathing hard, shoulders heaving. I feel the beast inside strain against my conscious and realize with horror how close I was to succumbing to it. I stagger from the room, real fear lancing through me.
I can’t stop what’s coming.
Chapter 8
Verity
Sweat beads on my forehead as the sun bears down on me. I dart backwards, dodging a swipe of Thal’s sword. Air rushes over me with the force of his arm, ruffling my loose hairs. I push the hair that slipped from my braid out of my face. Thal pushes forward, driving me back. I block one of his blows, the force of it reverberating up my sword arm. I grit my teeth against it and whirl away, sweeping at him with my blade.
He leaps back just in time and tosses me a grin. “You’re improving quickly, Verity,” he says. I can hear the admiration in his voice, and I can’t help the smile on my face.
Thal and I have spent a week practicing together during the day while the horses rest. I asked him to teach me after we encountered our first demon and it became very clear that I was holding everyone back. He doesn’t go easy on me, pushing me every day. I’ve gone to bed each night with more than a few bruises and shallow scrapes. But Thal is there each night with a soothing balm.
I decide to drive back at Thal, to take him by surprise and force him on the defensive. I lunge forward, adrenaline pumping as I raise my sword. He lifts his sword to parry mine, but I feint at the last second and drive it towards his knee. Victory swells in my chest before I feel the cold point of a dagger against my throat. I freeze, not daring to swallow. My eyes dart towards Thal and he grins wickedly.
&
nbsp; “Damn,” I sigh, dropping my blade.
Thal taps the dagger teasingly against my jugular. “Match,” he says.
I shove him lightly and he tucks the dagger away before it cuts into me. “It wouldn’t hurt to let me win once in a while,” I say, smiling.
“And then you would never learn.” Thal slings an arm over my shoulder and leads me into the shade where we can cool.
I glance up at the yellowing leaves. “It’s growing colder.”
“Fall in Alnembra is beautiful,” Thal says, tossing me a piece of jerky. “You’ll enjoy it.”
I grimace, thinking of my imminent, chosen homelessness. “I’m not sure if I’ll be in Alnembra.”
“Nonsense.” Thal eyes me. “You always have a place with me at my estate.”
“Oh, your estate?” I mimic his posh accent, giving myself airs.
Thal opens his mouth to retort, eyes blazing merrily, when a soft horn blows. Thal leaps to his feet, food forgotten. Fear lances through me. I know that sound well, though I never seem to get used to it. Syren rides towards us, the reins to our horses in her hands. She tosses mine to me and I catch it deftly.
“A demon is circling a nearby farm,” she explains.
I swing into the saddle, better at it than before. Thal takes the lead, riding hard over a short hill and deeper into the valley we’ve been patrolling. I swallow with some difficulty when I see the farm come into view. It’s a picturesque set up; a stone house with a thatched roof, a barn, and fields of yellow grain just waiting to be harvested. But there’s a dark figure prowling the perimeter, just beyond a rickety wooden fence surrounding the farmhouse. My heart pounds at the sight of the scaled, black creature.
It swings its head towards us and releases a guttural growl that I know so well I hear it in my sleep at times. I balk for an instant, but Thal’s green eyes draw me forward. The Fae rush the beast and it throws itself into a sprint, kicking up dirt behind it. Syren fires arrows at the demon with frightening fluidity, she moves like water.
Thal is the first to meet the demon. He roars and the demon shrieks with him. They clash in a flurry of steel and black claws, Thal’s cloak fluttering out behind him. My heart clenches in my chest as the demon’s claws lash out at Thal. The demon strikes his armor square in the chest, knocking Thal from his mount. I hiccup, lurching forward in my saddle. Before I know what I’m doing, I urge my horse forward.
The demon’s strong arms plow into my horse, knocking it to the side and driving me from my saddle. A scream lodges in my throat as I drop, my hand clenched around my sword. The air soars violently from my lungs when I land, and I heave. I roll to the side, shouts of the Fae soldiers and Thal echoing in my ears. But louder than them, is the low growling of the demon. My blurry vision clears in time to see its yellow, vibrant eyes, devouring me.
I gasp sharply, fear flooding through me like a forest fire in dry hills. The demon prowls closer, lashing out at any soldier who gets too close. I know it will kill me if I do nothing. I crawl into a crouch and swing at the demon, trying to remember and apply what Thal has taught me. The demon dodges and lunges at me, claws outstretched. My eyes go wide and I roll, narrowly missing its claws. Without thinking, without breathing, I roll to my knees and thrust my blade up and into the demon’s belly.
Black blood gushes out of its gut, dripping over my hands and my forearms. It stains my bloodred cloak black. I grit my teeth and drive the blade in deeper, determined. The demon's shrills cries quiet into guttural, wet noises. It slumps and I narrowly avoid being crushed under its weight.
I drop to the ground, staring up at the blue sky dotted with puffy clouds. Thal leans over me, a wry smile on his lips. “You alright?” He asks, holding out a hand.
I take it, letting him drag me to my feet. “I’m fine,” I pant.
He admires the dead demon. “You moved quickly, almost as fast as a Fae.”
“Right,” I laugh disbelievingly.
“No, it’s as it should be,” Thal says proudly. He pauses, eyes widening, and I spot a flash of guilt in his green orbs.
“Thal?” I balk, brows furrowed with confusion. “What do you mean?”
He sighs, dragging a hand over his jawline in a familiar move that his cousin has done countless times. He struggles to speak, chewing over the words on the tip of his tongue. Finally, just as apprehension is building in my chest, Thal pulls me away from the other Fae soldiers. “I wasn’t supposed to tell you this,” he whispers.
“Tell me what?” I demand, ripping out of his grasp.
He brushes his long black hair out of his face. “You’re half Fae, Verity. Your mother was a Bloodbane witch, a Fae woman. It’s why you have the powers you do. Why you’ve lived so long.”
My chest is as cold as ice, I can’t even feel my heart beating anymore. My fingers tremble and I hide them in my cloak instinctively. “I haven’t lived long. I’m twenty-four,” I say softly. “It’s impossible.”
“No.” He looks pained, his lips twisted into a grimace. “The First Bloodbane, she said you’ve lived for a thousand years. And your mother confirmed it.”
“My mother?” I laugh, feeling wild and confused. “You’ve never met my mother.”
“I have,” he says slowly. Thal drops his gaze to the carpet of green. “The Bloodbane witch in captivity is your mother. She was forced to send you away, to keep you from Sadal.”
“Is he,” I choke on the words, feeling nauseous, “Is he my father?”
Thal looks up sharply, brows furrowed with worry. He grips my shoulders and squeezes. “Gods no, Verity, your father is dead.”
I take a deep, shuddering breath, keenly aware of the curious glances thrown our way. “Who was he?” I ask. I laugh, shocked at my own faith in Thal’s assertions. “What am I saying? This is impossible.”
"He was a human," he says, ushering me away from the other soldiers and the emerging farmer and his family. "Verity, I swear on the gods, everything I'm telling you is true."
“How?” I can hardly breathe; this revelation has rocked me to my very core. I’m nothing and no one. I’m hardly the Curse-Breaker, hardly a Bloodbane witch. I’m just a librarian who is very far away from home.
“I can’t explain everything.” He shakes his head and peers into my eyes. “It should be Altair.”
“But he never said anything,” I say, the words spilling out in a rush.
Thal grimaces. “He asked me not to.”
Anger flickers in my veins, faint but powerful. My lips part in surprise and I raise my brows. “He told you to keep this from me?”
“Perhaps he was waiting for the right moment,” Thal says, trying to reassure me.
“The right moment?” Spittle flies from my lips as I speak angrily. “This is my life, my past, he owes me the truth!”
Thal rubs my shoulders as if to comfort me but I tear away from his grip. “Verity,” he murmurs, looking hurt.
I ignore him, marching quickly up the hillside as if to walk all the way back to the fort. My heart is pounding furiously, blood roaring in my ears. My life. My history. My parents. I swallow the hurt in my chest. If they aren’t my parents, who are they? Why did they raise me if I’m not their own? And why wouldn’t they tell me?
I drop to my knees once I’ve crested the hill. I dig into the grass, using a dagger to carve a spell into the dirt. I grit my teeth against the pain as I dig the blade into my palm lightly. I draw just enough blood to wet the blades of grass and upturned soil. In an instant, the hill beneath my knees is whisked away. I close my eyes against the rush of magic, riding out the strange sensation that roils my gut.
In seconds, my knees are smarting from kneeling on rough stone. I open my eyes and take in the small stone room I’m kneeling in. It’s the room I stayed in for a single night while I was here, dreaming about Altair and Erzur. I scowl, fresh wounds from Altair’s betrayals sparking like fireworks. I hoist myself to my feet and stalk out into the halls in search of the Fae King.
Servants
and soldiers glance at me in surprise as I pass but I ignore them, determined to find him. I know he’ll be working in his study, planning the future of Alnembra. His future with Erzur. I stomp towards the door, not bothering to knock before I slam it open. My vision is tunneled directly towards him. Altair stands in the center of the room, looking startled. I pause in the doorway, surprised once more by his beauty.
His hair, growing long enough to brush his shoulders, is tied into a messy knot at the base of his neck. His chiseled jaw is covered in the ghost of a beard, giving him a sense of wisdom and age. But it’s his eyes that draw me in like a whirlpool; hazel and glowing in the light of day, they tug me towards him. Heart to heart. Mind to mind.
“Verity?” His voice breaks the silence and it’s as if it awakens me again to my anger.
I scowl. “Altair.”
He rises to his full height and I notice his tunic is loose, exposing his chiseled and handsome chest. I clear my throat, dragging my eyes away from his lean frame and back to his magnetic eyes. I close the door softly behind me, so I don’t alarm his guards. It’s just the two of us in the cluttered room, the walls lined with bookcases.
“What are you doing here?” He asks, brows furrowed. “How did you get here? I thought you were with Thal?”
“I needed to see you. I need you to explain something to me,” I say harshly. I narrow my eyes.
His gaze darts to my bloodstained hand and he gives me a knowing smile. “I see.”
“My mother,” I say. His eyes widen for an instant before they go hard. “You knew I’m half-Fae. Is that true?” My voice cracks. “Am I?”
He presses his lips into a thin line and circles the table. I step away from him, bumping into the door. “Verity, I wanted to tell you,” he murmurs, sounding guilty. “But the timing wasn’t right.”
“The timing?” I shake my head, voice quaking with emotion. “How could you use that weak excuse? I had a right to know!”
