by J. Kearston
Lucien returns in the same clothes, hair still damp. It will make it easier to blend in this way, and as soon as we step outside, I use a bit of my glamour to darken my hair into a less dramatic shock of color. It’s not a foolproof plan, but might draw less eyes when we’re shopping so we don’t get shot in the middle of the street.
I nearly say any number of things, but everything that comes to mind sounds pathetic and scripted. Like the expected condolences everyone says at a funeral, the same flat words that lose their meaning the more you hear them. The truth of the matter is, things aren’t okay, and nothing I say will change that fact. I could say it doesn’t matter who he was as much as who he’s become, assure him we’re here no matter what happens, but what good would that do? It certainly won’t make him feel better or tell him anything he doesn’t already know.
Instead, I slip my hand in his, lacing our fingers together. Because sometimes that’s all anyone needs; to know they aren’t alone as their world falls apart around them, to have something constant to cling to. I might never know the right thing to say, as emotionally stunted as the man beside me, but if there’s one thing I excel at?
It’s surviving, and I’m not going anywhere.
Chapter 8
Lucien
I meant Lucien.
It plays on constant repeat, refusing to quiet down. Three simple words, yet they mean so much. Like my childhood wasn’t hard enough, now I have to wonder if the man that raised me was even my father. Did he rip me away from my family, and if so, why? And Maddox; I’m sure he was dropped off in the middle of the night, that much is true, but I’m now doubting the story I accepted as truth all of those years ago.
Why would someone ask a barely stable man to be a guardian for anyone? I get if someone was trying to hide a baby, but there had to be better options.
We approach the ring, and as much as I know the horrors waiting on the other side, I’d still rather face them right now than stay here any longer. I once thought that Cambria could be safe here, but it’s become abundantly clear that there’s no peace to be found for any of us.
Both homes are gone; here, and the fae realm. If someone is truly trying to hurt the three of them to get at me, eventually they’ll escalate to attacking me as well. Work is no longer a refuge I can hide behind, and I can’t even trust my memories anymore. I’m just...lost.
“Should we just go for broke and try the city?” Atlas sounds as hopeless as I feel. “Not much else to lose at this point.”
“Besides our lives,” Dorian helpfully points out, still on the fence about the plan. “We might not have a safe haven anymore, but that doesn’t mean this will be. It’s incredibly convenient; taking away all of our other options until we’re forced to risk it. Maybe that barrier over the place had other effects.”
Cambria sighs, taking a step into the shadowed forest as we cross. She doesn’t have the usual pep in her step, and I’m not sure if that’s because she’s still feeling sick, or from her breakdown last night. Not like I have much room to talk after hiding in the shower to avoid the inevitable conversation I know we're going to have to have.
“Let’s try. We can’t just hide in the woods and wait to come back when the human realm isn’t safe anymore either. Maybe we can glean some information before they grab their torches and pitchforks. Then we’ll just keep forging on until we find somewhere to settle.” She doesn’t look back, taking the lead, and we’re left following.
I’m scared to hope, but if Rickon thought this was a safe place to hide out, chances are he’d know better than any of us. Fuck, he certainly had more information to work with since I don’t even know if Lucien Avrell is my real name anymore.
We approach from the same angle as before, though far less prepared this time. Nearly everything was lost to the explosion, and we couldn’t just discreetly buy three guns. We have one backpack between all of us with a single change of clothes, a little food, a lighter, and a few pocket knives. Nothing that prepares us to take on an entire city or kingdom.
We’re simply stuck wavering on a cliff, looking down at a city of people that can command the very earth to do their bidding, and all we have are childish hopes and prayers for salvation.
“And her,” Dorian murmurs, like he could tell exactly where my thoughts were at. “The best weapon this side of the veil.”
I sigh. “She’s not a thing. She shouldn’t have to protect us.”
Cambria scoffs with false bravado. “Excuse you, but I’m your officially appointed guardian. It’s one hundred percent my job to keep you safe. You take the lead human side, and I take point here, remember?”
“You’re right,” Atlas teases, still more confident in this plan than any of us. “The blind leading the blind; great strategy.”
She flips him off without looking, attention wholly focused on the sight at the base of the hill we’re standing on top of. “Well, it’s been nice knowing you guys.” She grimaces before taking her first step towards whatever fate has in store for us.
“Don’t say it like that,” I chastise, stepping beside her.
“Yeah,” Atlas joins in. “If we’re going to die a horrible death, I’d at least like a better goodbye than that.” I smack the back of his head, but he just winks, unrepentant.
Cambria buys into it, each step imbued with more confidence. “Viking funeral could be fun. People shooting flaming arrows willy-nilly? Sign me up.”
“We’re not going to die,” I protest, but they’re actively ignoring me in favor of planning dramatic sendoffs.
“Maybe we can call the panther back,” he continues, the two of them trying to surpass the other in ridiculous deaths.
Before I know it, we’re at the base of the hill. That magical, serene sensation is steadily pressing down on me, but it’s easier to recognize now that I know to look for it. There’s no desire to combat it, the feeling blissful and tranquil more than anything, but I still hate anything that attempts to manipulate me in any regard.
Our presence hasn’t gone unnoticed, a few of the fae ushering away the children hastily and others nearly paralyzed in fear. Still, no one attacks or rages just yet, merely eyeing us warily. A few people break off and go running in the opposite direction, while many more just wait for something to happen like deer caught in a set of headlights.
Really, what did we even expect? To walk in here like we belong and ask to rent a room? Though I’ll admit, Atlas might be right. They aren’t hostile, more shocked than anything. Who knows how long they’ve been in hiding? Perhaps they’ve been under the illusion of safety for so long that they forgot that threats could eventually show up at their doorsteps, are underprepared to handle an attack.
Or maybe they’re just as scared of Elorie as Cambria is and want to be left alone.
“Hey there.” Cambria awkwardly waves, just to break the tension. She trails off, hunting for some sort of ice breaker and finding nothing.
My gaze flits between them, waiting for the second the moment of stunned stasis will shatter and all hell will break loose. It seems wrong to just continue into the town like there’s nothing out of the ordinary happening, but I’m not even quite sure what we’re waiting for. An invitation? All the munchkins to burst into song and welcome us into the magic city?
“Get Achlys,” someone hisses under their breath, but with as deadly silent as it is, it’s difficult not to overhear.
“We should probably run, right?”
But despite Dorian being as on the fence as I am, Cambria just seems...done. Sick of running already, tired of her life going the way it’s been. I’m beyond proud of her for finally wanting to take the initiative and face things head on for a change, but I’m simply not convinced that this was the best moment for a confrontation when we’re vastly outnumbered and underprepared.
We’re stuck just waiting for several agonizingly long minutes, the others shifting their stances uncomfortably while I remain stoic, watching. When the crowd begins to step aside to make roo
m for someone passing through, I stand straighter, not sure what there is to even prepare for. We’re just offering ourselves up as non-virgin sacrifices and praying they toss us in the volcano rather than drag the suffering out.
I have no doubt in my mind that it’s Achlys, queen of the shadow court that steps in front of the crowd and towards us without an ounce of fear on her face. She has that same ethereal glow the rest of the fae here do, though nearly every inch of exposed skin is covered in a series of glowing tattoos. They have a life of their own, shimmering like a living river of magical ink from her face to the fingertips pressed to her lips. Her hair falls to her waist in a solid, ebony curtain, the color so deep it’s practically blue. Most notable though, is how unaggressive she appears, setting me more at ease.
“You got her,” she whispers, turning to me with awe clear on her face. “You actually found a way to get her back.”
Chapter 9
Atlas
The three of us whip our heads in Luce’s direction, and I’m not sure about the others, but my glare is pretty damn hostile. I may owe the man my life, but that credit’s just about used up at this point. I’m used to him keeping a plethora of secrets, but this? Fake identities, and now this stranger he sure as shit shouldn’t know is fucking thanking him for luring Cambria here?
Dorian beats me to the punch, sounding more hurt than angry. “Just what the hell is going on?”
Luce raises his hands in surrender as Achlys strides forward to steal one, shaking it profusely and looking on the verge of tears. “Graham, how did you ever manage?”
Lucien rips his hand back so fast I’m amazed he isn’t arrested for treason. His face pales as his breathing increases, Dorian cursing and crossing the distance between them to intervene. Cambria, I keep by my side, not knowing what the hell is happening and despising every second of it.
Cambria remains silent, absorbing information and trying to blend into the background. Whatever’s happening right now, she wears a matching face of hurt and confusion. Despite the intention of coming here in search of answers, I’m not sure any of us are actually ready to handle them.
“My name’s Lucien,” he spits, barely in control of himself and vibrating with fury.
Dorian bites his lip before quietly whispering, “Graham was his father.”
The ringing in my ears is so loud, I’m pretty sure I miss part of the conversation. All I can focus on is my next breath, trying to stuff down every volatile emotion that wants to escape without rhyme or reason.
Because if Achlys knows Lucien’s father, Graham was either a dark fae, or one that abducted human kids for God knows what reason. Which means either Luce is caught up in some weird interdimensional trafficking ring, or worse.
He’s part fae and none of us knew.
Achlys looks torn, the conversation losing the excited air she began it with. “It would appear we have much to discuss. Why don’t you come with me where we can sit more comfortably; I have a feeling this might take a bit to sort out.”
I wrap an arm around Cambria’s collar, resting my head on top of hers in an attempt to appear casual. Though really? It’s to deflect from the way Luce looks about two seconds from burning the city to the ground and to help conceal Cambria’s trembling hands.
Still, if there’s one thing she’s taught me, it’s not to appear weak in front of the people that have the power to destroy you. They feed on that vulnerability, and even if the dark fae end up being different, it doesn’t matter.
It may benefit us not to come across as a threat, but that doesn’t mean they need to see us cower either. We’ve survived too much; it will take more than a few sentences to make us fall apart.
“That sounds like a great way to get tossed in a dungeon,” Cambria retorts flippantly, bolstering her defenses and running her fingers over my arm languidly, latching onto the only gift I’m able to give her. “Why walk into the heart of the City of Secrets when there’s plenty of space out here?”
Dorian is busy keeping Luce from flying off the rails, so the least the two of us can do is keep the focus on us instead. We may not have anything to defend ourselves with, but that doesn’t mean we need to rely on their mercy, because Dorian was right.
We have her, and that’s really all we’ve ever needed. No matter Lucien’s revelations, a kingdom trying to kill us here, or a human trying to kill us back home. We don’t need to find a new safe haven because we already have one.
If we can’t adapt to the situation, we’ll force the situation to adapt to us.
“She has a point.” I shrug and gesture towards the crowd of dark fae blatantly eavesdropping. “I mean, I like a voyeur as much as the next guy, but this is a little over the top even for me. Real stalker, serial killer vibes here.”
Achlys’ lip twitches in amusement before turning to look over her shoulder and commanding everyone to go back about their business and allow her some privacy with the newcomers. When they don’t immediately obey, she raises an eyebrow, but that’s as far as the threat needs to go. Reluctantly, they start to disperse, but three men and a woman hang back, refusing to go too far from their queen. Despite the lack of obvious weapons, they have the stiff postures of guards. If anything, their confidence in not needing to openly carry anything is more alarming.
“It’s not safe to stay out in the open,” she announces. “And you look like you could do with something to eat and somewhere to rest. Come; see the city, ask your questions. It’s not like any of us could stop you if you truly wished to leave.” She chuckles, walking towards the city anyway, knowing we’ll follow for the sake of answers.
As opposed to Elorie being the picture perfect queen from a fairytale, Achlys is dressed far more practically and comfortably. She gives off the air of a person who lives among her subjects instead of lording over them, appearing far more casual and less threatening.
Dorian grabs Lucien’s shirt and tugs him into motion as it becomes clear that he has no intention of stepping foot in the place. “Take a breath, get some answers. We’ve learned by now not to assume shit, so hold off on the spiraling until we know exactly what we’re working with here, alright?” He smacks the back of his shoulder in casual reassurance, feigning confidence that none of us are likely to feel ever again.
Reluctantly, he settles down and follows Dorian’s lead, but chooses to break off in favor of walking close to Cambria instead. She’s become the center of our world so quickly, the eye of our storm. While things rage around us, reducing our lives to chaotic debris, she’s there waiting to pick up the pieces.
“Sorry,” Luce murmurs, looking wrecked in a way I’ve never seen before.
She leans over to kiss his cheek. “Don’t you dare apologize for being upset. It’s completely warranted.”
Achlys just watches her curiously, patiently waiting for everyone to catch up and shooing her guards away when they get too close.
“So what do you want with her?” Because despite Luce salivating for answers, I can’t ignore the way she reacted upon seeing Cambria, her comment of getting her back. “She some dark fae baby the evil queen abducted and you’re thrilled she’s home at last?” I don’t bother attempting to keep the venom from my tone, the situation as ridiculous as the girl herself. But I wouldn’t be surprised at this point.
Achlys gives us a sad smile. “Afraid not, human.”
“Atlas,” Cambria interjects defensively, and then gestures beside her. “And Dorian.” She lifts the back of one hand to show her. “They belong here as much as I do.”
The queen blinks a few times. “You have human consorts as well?”
Cambria doesn’t even hesitate. “I have mates. My status means nothing and neither does theirs. Not like I’ll ever sit on my mother’s throne, so the antiquated term doesn’t apply. None of us are above the other in station or power. Well, except maybe Luce.” She winks in his direction, but he doesn’t buy into the teasing air she’s going for.
Achlys’ lips purse, but she doesn’t
comment further. As we take our first steps into the city I hold my breath, not sure what I’m expecting except maybe an ambush. It doesn’t come though, just hundreds of fae pretending to be busy so they can gawk.
“That’s enough of that now,” Achlys scolds, snapping her fingers once. Sparks fly from the contact and there’s a brief moment that begs me to give her my full attention before the back of my hand starts burning. “Make yourselves useful. Someone needs to start clearing out a house and a few should start on dinner.” The stinging recaptures my attention and I rub at it, noting that the others are as well. All except Cambria that is, whose eyes are narrowed at the queen.
“No wonder everyone seems to get along so well around here,” she comments, leaving it open to interpretation.
Achlys has the good sense to look a bit remorseful. “Times are stressful enough without petty squabbles. And I assumed you’d want a bit of privacy while we carried on our conversation.”
Leaning in towards her, I whisper, “What are we talking about?”
Cambria clucks her tongue, unimpressed and doesn’t bother with subtlety. “Compulsion.”
I shoot another look at the back of my hand, frowning. Between the crawling sensation across my skin the last time we came to stake out this place and now, it’s far too many coincidences to write off. A quick glance at Dorian shows the wheels turning in his head as well, but it clicks for me a brief second later and I pull Cambria to a stop.
“It doesn’t work on you, does it? Compulsion, or mind fucks; whatever you want to call that ability.”
Her eyes widen as she catches on. “And now that you guys are absorbing fae magic through the bond, you’re growing immune too.”
Dorian’s eyes light up as he adds, “Because we’re not just absorbing fae magic, we’re absorbing yours specifically.”
Lucien shakes his head. “Then how could Illiah mind wipe you?”
