by Bailey Dark
I can’t help myself as I wrap my arms around her slight frame and bundle her into my lap. She curls into me, her shoulders trembling as the tears finally fall. I hold her, my heart pounding wildly. I feel elated that she trusts me with this, that she’s here in my arms and not someone else’s. But I feel physically pained by her sorrow. It cuts me like a knife. I brush my fingers through her tangled braid and down the gentle curve of her back, cooing softly.
“Have you spoken to Cleo?” I ask hesitantly when Verity is a little more settled.
“How can I?” She hiccups lightly. “She’s just some witch who claims to be my mother. She practically gave me to Sadal.”
I don’t correct her. Her heart is in too much pain for that. So I tighten my arms around her, feeling as if my heart will burst. She quiets and looks up at me with red-rimmed eyes. I freeze, suddenly unsure. Every part of me is eager for her, to claim her lips and her entire being; to make her mine once again.
In the end, it’s Verity who makes the choice for me. She leans up, stretching to reach my lips and kisses me gently. I lose myself in the sensation of her lips on mine. My hands slip beneath her cloak, running up her ribs and around her shoulders. She’s taken off the leather armor for the night, and for that I’m suddenly very grateful. She’s warm beneath her thin clothes, and I can feel the heat radiating from her. I groan, desperate for her even as I try to hold myself back.
I remind myself to be gentle in the wake of her sorrow, but I can’t stop myself from leaning her back on the boulder. I cup her head in my hand, so she won’t feel the rough stone against her scalp. She slips her fingers through my hair, stroking it lovingly. Our lips move as one, slow, soft, and filled with promises of something more. Desire wells in my veins as her teeth graze my bottom lip. I play a hand across her collarbone teasingly and her back arches instinctively.
I inhale sharply as our eyes meet. They glimmer in the moonlight, asking me for more. I cup her breast in my hand and she shivers, breath catching in her throat. I lower my lips to her neck and drag my tongue across her jugular as she starts to writhe with pleasure. Verity moans as my thumb slips across her stiff nipple but I stifle the sound with another kiss. Quiet, I tell her silently, we must be quiet.
She nods, eyes slipping closed with pleasure. I can feel her heart pounding wildly in her chest as my hand trails across it. I follow the dip in her chest to her navel and then even lower. When I stroke her, her eyes fly open and she gasps sharply. Her hands fly to my face and drag me towards her. When she thrusts her tongue into my mouth, I lose myself then.
Verity and I grind together under the moonlight, giving no thought to the sleeping campers a few yards beyond. Her body is hot, supple, and like putty in my hands. And I want all of it. I sweep my tongue through her mouth, tasting her. A growl rumbles in my chest and she arches into me, panting. I unlace her trousers easily, fingers slipping over her teasingly. She trembles, legs quaking. I admire her in the moonlight, her milky skin practically glowing silver. Her red cloak is like a pool of midnight around her, her shirt lifted high to her breasts, exposing her belly and hips.
I stroke her lovingly as she shudders into silence. I wish I could stay in moments like this forever; with Verity beside me, cheeks flushed and a small smile on her lips. She lifts her arms and runs her fingers through my hair as if we’re the only two in the world. I curl around her, wrapping her up in my arms and nuzzling into her neck.
“I wish this is what we could be – forever,” I breathe, lips brushing her ear. “You and I, free to love and travel wherever we wish.”
She pulls away, guilt plain in her eyes. “But that isn’t how it is,” Altair,” she says as she laces her trousers.
I rise, propping myself up on my elbow. “When you were with Sadal, I was determined to take you back and keep you,” I murmur, sensing how weak the excuse is.
Her eyes are shadowed as she meets my gaze. “When Sadal took me, when he made me his bride, I didn’t have a choice. You did, Altair. You chose Erzur. Now we both have to live with it.”
“Verity,” I say weakly as she starts sliding down the boulder.
She pauses, glancing back at me. “The curse,” she says quietly. “Is it returning?”
“It is.” I look away.
“I’m sorry,” she murmurs. There’s a weight to her voice that tells me the curse isn’t the only thing she’s sorry for.
I wait a little longer on the boulder, watching as Verity lays back on her sleeping mat. She turns her back to me, as if she can sense my gaze on her. Dawn is coming now, it’s light rimming the horizon, framing the flat landscape. I climb off of the boulder, heading back to my own tent. With dawn coming, I suspect there’s little danger anymore. I’ll sleep now, and hopefully forget Verity’s damning words.
I glance towards her prone form once more. A flash of movement in the distance catches my eye. A dust plume flares into the sky, blocking out a sprinkling of stars. Another rises a few yards in front of the last. I narrow my eyes at the sight, hairs raised like a warning on the back of my neck. More sand rises, marking the path of the strange occurrence. Whatever it is, it’s heading here.
Chapter 12
Verity
“Get up!” I hear Altair shout through the haze of sleep. “Get up, arm yourselves!”
I blink sleepily but fear bursts through the fog of my mind like a flame and I’m on my feet in an instant. I slept for only a few moments it feels like, the stars are still winking overhead. I glance towards the boulder in the distance and wonder if it’s still warm from the heat of our bodies. Altair streaks past me, sword in hand. He moves into a combat stance, the same one Thal has been teaching me.
“Verity.” I look up, eyes wide, as Altair speaks my name. His brows furrow with worry and my heart thumps. “Stay behind me.”
I wrap my hand around my light sword and scan the horizon nervously. Dawn is coming, but the light doesn’t reveal anything to me. The others are awake now. Moritz prowls the edge of the campsite, sniffing at the air like an animal. His eyes snap towards a point in the distance, past the columns. I hear a soft sound, almost like a hiss. The hair on the back of my neck stands on end and I edge closer to Thal.
His green eyes are narrowed in the same direction as Altair’s and Moritz’s. “I had hoped we would travel farther before we ran into one of these,” he mutters.
“One of what?” I ask, trying to hide the trembling of my voice.
He opens his mouth to answer but the object of the Fae’s attention has finally come into view. A mound of sand streaks towards us, jets of sand occasionally spraying into the sky. The ground trembles slightly, barely enough for me to register it. I step back as the mound reaches the rim of the campsite and suddenly there’s a spray of sand.
The sand, cold in the night, sprays over us, blocking my view. I cry out in surprise and raise a hand to block the sand from reaching my eyes. I hear Altair snarl and then the clash of his sword. Through the darkness, I hear a pained hiss and a dangerous snap. I dart backwards just as a black form lunges towards me. I cough, clearing the sand from my lungs.
A giant scorpion, longer than the length of my body and as tall as me at the height of its tail, skitters across the sand. Its claws snap at Thal, but Thal dodges easily, swiping at it with his blade. But the scorpion’s tail is moving, already stabbing towards Thal in mid-swing.
“Thal!” I shout, voice cracking with panic and fear.
His eyes flit up and he drops into a roll, narrowly avoiding being punctured by the venomous, swollen tip. The scorpion turns to me, chittering, and snaps its claws threateningly. I hold my breath for only an instant, but it feels like years. With an explosive movement, the scorpion is hurtling towards me. Its eight legs carry it swiftly across the sand and I scream. Fear surges in my body and I feel the overwhelming urge to drop into a crouch and cover my head with my hands, as if that will help. Instead, I force my feet to move. I run to the side, just in time to miss the scorpion’s powerful claws. Sadal sc
reeches in fear and I hear him scurry away, the chains around his wrists and ankles rattling.
“Verity,” Altair says, his eyes blazing. “Find somewhere to hide.”
I shake my head, adrenaline rushing through my veins. “Don’t worry about me.”
Moritz, Thal, and Erzur are circling the scorpion, lunging from time to time to test it. The scorpion hisses furiously, lashing out at them with its tail. Altair starts towards them but looks at me over his shoulder. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, Verity,” Altair says.
My lips part in surprise, want and need flushing my cheeks. The adrenaline urges those emotions onward until my eyes can only follow Altair. He moves with dangerous elegance and unbelievable speed. My Fae King practically dances around the scorpion, his blade batting away the claws and tail as if it were only an extension of his arm. It’s breathtaking.
“The eyes; go for the eyes,” Thal shouts, lunging forward.
My heart moves into my throat as I watch Altair and Thal grow more aggressive. They push the scorpion into the defensive, but it’s fast and its tail is long. The scorpion swipes their blades away easily, keeping them at bay. I glance around, panic growing in my belly as I realize that Thal and Altair will tire soon. A nearby rock catches my eye and I snatch it. I rise, knees shaking, and clutch at the small stone.
“Heads up!” I yell, throwing the stone as hard as I can towards the scorpion’s strange, bulbous eyes.
The rock soars over Altair and Thal, but it misses the eyes. Instead, it bounces off the scorpion’s protective armor. It hisses, turning its eyes on me. Stinger shaking, the scorpion makes a move for me. I feel a thrill of fear as I raise my sword to defend myself. Its enormous pincers reach for me, powerful enough to crush my skull in one snap.
Suddenly, I see a blur of movement, followed by the sickening crunch of alien flesh. The pincers freeze around my waist, stinger hovering languidly in the air. It drops, and I squeal, jumping back to avoid being struck by it. Altair moves to my side, his hands slipping over my shoulder to draw me towards him. I shudder, eyes locked on the dead scorpion. Altair’s sword is still plunged into one of its eyes, green goo oozing around it.
His warmth stills my trembling and slowly my fear slips away. I take a long breath and step back, out of his arms. Altair gives me an understanding look before turning back to the scorpion and collecting his sword. Thal joins me, sweat beading on his forehead. He tosses his head back and sighs.
"Gods, I hate it here," he mutters. I bite my lip, looking at him apologetically. Thal glances at me and then pastes a smile on his face. His hand pushes my bedhead back into place. "We lived, didn't we? Something to smile about."
“I suppose.” My eyes drift back to the scorpion and I grimace.
Thal wags a finger at me. “I didn’t notice you using any of the techniques I taught you.”
“Of course not,” Erzur quips as she pushes past me. “She’s weak.”
I scowl, eyes narrowed at her but Erzur strides away before I have a chance to retort. I swallow hard as the others begin packing up the camp. Erzur is right, not entirely, but at least a little. When the scorpion came hurtling towards me, I was too frozen by fear to even move.
“Don’t listen to her,” Thal murmurs. He glowers at Erzur. “You distracted it, giving Altair time to kill it.”
I bite my lip and shrug as if I believe that’s truly enough. I turn back to the scorpion and am surprised to see Cleo circling it. The sight of her sends my stomach fluttering nervously. Mother. I feel nauseous even thinking the word in relation to her. I glance at Thal and he gives me an encouraging nod.
Slowly, I approach her. She cocks her head, listening to my footsteps. When I pause beside her, she’s silent. I take a moment to study her, to truly look at her. Her hair is pale blonde, and her eyes are a light blue, like mine and Maaz. Her nose is the same as mine, but her cheekbones higher. I see myself in the curve of her jaw and the quirk of her lips. My breath hitches in my throat. In this moment it feels all too real, all too true.
Her lips are pursed, her eyes narrowed at me. She looks almost as nervous as I feel, though she’s doing a better job of hiding it. I take a deep breath. “What are you doing?” I ask, my voice too high and tinny.
“Collecting ingredients,” she says. Her voice is rough and husky while mine is clear like a bell.
“Oh,” I murmur, dropping my gaze to the scorpion. She seems sharp and unapproachable Shame wells over me and I shift my weight to walk away and hide behind my horse until we leave.
“Ingredients like this,” Cleo says, breaking the silence, “Are very rare.”
I try not to gape at her. She looks almost as surprised as me that she spoke. I lace my fingers together behind my back and take a deep breath. Birth mother or not, I don’t know her. I have nothing to be nervous about, I tell myself. I try to detach myself from the situation. “And which will you collect?”
“The venom.” Cleo produces a glass vial. “Much of the scorpion can be used in spells and potions, but the venom is the easiest to transport and the most versatile.”
I furrow my brows curiously and lean over the tail. “How do you get it?”
She grins slyly and carefully maneuvers the tip of the stinger into the bottle. With her free hand, she massages the stinger, coaxing the venom from it. I watch as the clear, thick venom slowly fills the bottle. Cleo caps it carefully, making sure none of the venom will spill out, and then tucks it back into her cloak.
“A venom like this can be used in killing spells and poisons,” she says smoothly, as if I was simply a student. “However, it’s also potent in love spells and can even be effective in healing.”
I listen as she goes on, explaining how venom and other dangerous ingredients work in tandem with human emotion to make effective spells of any kind. I watch as she speaks, noticing the way her brows rise and wrinkle depending on what she’s saying. Relaxed like this, she’s expressive. She pauses, as if noticing my stare.
I stick my hand out towards her, hoping it isn’t sweaty. “I’m Verity.”
Cleo stares at my hand, unmoving, long enough to make me consider pulling it back. But she finally takes it. Her slim hand is cool and dry like paper. “Cleo,” she murmurs.
We let go and I drop my gaze to the ground. She knows who I am. And she knows I know who she is. I almost laugh at the absurdity of it. I want to know more about my past, my father. I want to know what happened to me. But the others are almost ready to depart, and the sun’s rays will beat on us soon. And, I admit, I don’t know if I’m ready to hear it from her. I glance towards Altair and see his eyes flit over me, as if checking to make sure I’m alright. My heart beats harder as I realize I want him by my side for this. My thoughts turn to the night and his confession that the curse was returning.
I look curiously at Cleo. “What do you know of curses?”
“Maaz always liked to think she was the expert on curses,” Cleo says, tossing her hair back. “The truth is, I was better.”
“Do you miss her?” I ask before I can stop myself. I pale, realizing just what I had asked.
Cleo cuts me with ger gaze and then scowls. “No. She cared more about Sadal than me.” Cleo looks ready to say more but turns away. “Now, what is this about curses?”
I nod, grateful she changed the subject. “The curse Maaz put on Altair is returning. He and I never completed the covenant. Is there a way to save him?”
“No covenant?” She echoes thoughtfully. Her lips tug down into a frown. “There may be a way, but it would take strong witches and a complicated spell to break it.”
“Shall we?” Erzur calls from her saddle, staring imperiously at us from across the sand.
I loose a long, irritated breath and start towards the horses. "I have to try," I tell Cleo, eyes slipping towards her.
Cleo grins at my words. “Then we’ll have a bit of fun.”
Chapter 13
Altair
Since the scorpion incident, I’ve assigned r
otating watches. I know now the wastelands can’t be trusted, no matter how peaceful and unmoving the landscape appears above the surface. I shift inside my tent, staring up at the thin ceilings. Verity is outside, under the stars, and snoring softly. I smile, listening to her light breathing. It makes me think of what our future could have been.
I close my eyes, imagining it. Verity would be beside me in bed, dressed in a silk nightgown and curled up in my arms. Her soft snores would fill the silence in the room and lull me to sleep. I sigh, feeling sleep tugging at my conscious finally. A long day of travel has left my body stiff and sore, fatigue weighing on my bones. Now, finally, I can rest.
Suddenly, Verity’s snoring stops abruptly. My eyes open, drifting to the tent wall. Her breath comes faster, and I hear her blankets rustling. I rise, twisting to my knees and listening intently. I wonder briefly if Thal has come to her side and if he woke her. But her shrill scream drives that suspicion from my mind. The sound of her terror drives my heart into a powerful rhythm, adrenaline already in my veins.
I fly out of the tent, skidding in the sand to twist towards her. Her body writhes in the sleeping mat, eyes clenched closed. She squirms, fingers clutching at the blankets while her lips are split wide to allow a night-shattering scream out. I cup her cheeks, brows furrowed. Her skin is hot as if she’s feverish.
“Verity,” I murmur, my eyes devouring her worriedly.
She doesn’t respond as she tries to twist out my arms. Her hands fly at me, but I catch them before she can strike me. She screams wildly. I hear the others stirring, boots stomping across the sand towards us. I don’t have to look to know it’s Thal. A growl rumbles from my throat and the footsteps stop.
Fear clenches in my chest as Verity doesn’t wake from her nightmare. From the darkness, a dark shadow streaks towards me. Serus, her familiar, prowls around her head, ignoring my warning snarls. His amber eyes flit towards me and I imagine a hint of fear in them.
“We must wake her,” he says. “Do it now.”
