The Lionheart (The Harbinger Book 4)

by Candace Wondrak

  He seemed like he told the truth, which made Light lower his bow. He didn’t know whether or not he was a good judge of character—mostly because the whole Dread King liking Faith thing still confused him—but this Dracon acted genuine. He believed him.

  “I am not the enemy,” Dracyrus spoke with a sneer. Though Light had put down his bow, he did not lower his blade. “A Fae named Yulena is. She was the one who cursed me with an eternal hatred of the Harbinger. She is the enemy, and right now, we are in search of Faith.”

  “The Harbinger,” Vyserous spoke slowly, narrowing his golden gaze.

  Light nodded once. “Yes. It’s true.”

  Vyserous lowered his blade halfway, asking, “Are you certain? This isn’t some kind of trick? Because I warn you, I might not have seen any battles myself, but I am pretty good with this thing.” Behind him, the winged beast poked its head around, letting out a chirp as it studied Light and the others. “Fang, stop that.”

  Fang’s spiked tail slapped the ground.

  The creature got Dracyrus to sheath his sword. For once, the Dread King didn’t look dour or menacing. He actually looked…impressed? In awe? “A drake,” he said, moving around Vyserous to the beast. “What a magnificent creature.”

  Vyserous stepped aside, saying, “I wouldn’t get too close. Fang’s a wild beast, I’m the only one who—”

  Dracyrus ran a hand over Fang’s snout, rubbing his pearlescent scales and scratching his chin.

  “Traitor,” Vyserous muttered, sheathing his own blade with a frown. As he watched his drake with the other Dracon, he looked to Light and Jag. “So it really is true, then? You have not switched sides?”

  “We love her,” Jag said proudly, making Light roll his eyes. Light was not the kind of man who liked everyone knowing his business, but Jag was a Malus. It went hand-in-hand with his race, apparently. “She was stolen from us and we’re getting her back.”

  Vyserous’s golden gaze darted between Light and Jag. “You both love her?”

  “They are part of her nethelell,” Dracyrus spoke, still at Fang’s side.

  Light had no idea what that was, but Vyserous understood. “And you?” he asked the other Dracon.

  Dracyrus turned to look at him. “I hope to be, once we find her and make those Fae pay for what they’ve done.”

  “This is…not at all what I expected,” Vyserous spoke, rubbing his scaled chin. “Not at all. I thought I’d have to kill all of you—but I suppose helping you save the Harbinger is still a worthy goal. After we will find this Yulena and—”

  “After, we find Cam,” Light cut in. He would not give up on his brother, no matter what. He would never be like Sellyn, never think Cam a monster. Cam was his brother, and he would remain his brother until the end of his life.

  Before Vyserous could ask who he was, Jag said, “His brother. He’s Ulen.”

  “An Ulen?” The shock was evident in Vyserous’s voice. “An Ulen joined the Harbinger’s fellowship? I believe that’s the first time that has happened in…well, ever. Don’t they usually stick to the Cove and the surrounding area?”

  “He is my brother,” Light said. “He came when I needed him.”

  Vyserous shrugged. “That, or he came because it benefitted his kind. Ulen do nothing out of the kindness of their hearts.”

  Light felt his anger start to rise. Who was this Dracon to judge Cam? He’d never even met him. He was getting sick and tired of everyone judging Cam when they didn’t attempt to give him the benefit of the doubt.

  “I agree,” Dracyrus spoke with a nod. He took a step back, moving around Fang’s left wing as he studied the creature and how big it was. “How many can he carry?”

  “Her,” Vyserous corrected him. “And she can carry all of us, if need be, but not for long. She’ll need to rest often, but we can take her, so long as you know where those Fae took the Harbinger.”

  Jag muttered, “Oh, he does. He’s connected to her, you know. Dreams of her and all that. Can even touch her across—” When Dracyrus tossed him a glare, he shut up, crossing his arms. “What? I’m only speaking the truth.”

  Dracyrus’s glower died the moment he returned his black stare to Fang. He rubbed around one of the horns on the top of her head as he asked in a voice that was almost too sweet, “How about it? Will you allow us on your back? Will you help us?” Fang let out a soft coo, almost a purr.

  Light was not the only one taken aback by the Dread King’s change in demeanor, all because of the winged drake. Vyserous was frowning, muttering, “I cannot believe you, Fang. I raised you from a hatchling. You’re supposed to be bonded to me.”

  Smirking, Dracyrus spoke, “She must sense how old I am. How powerful. Is it any wonder she bends to me?”

  Vyserous sneered. “I don’t like him,” he muttered, which made Light laugh.

  “Yeah,” he said. “Neither do we.”

  “Why is he still alive, then?”

  Light thought on it. “He is connected to her in ways we aren’t.” He watched as Jag inched closer to Fang, trying to pet her like Dracyrus was. Fang was not having any of it, pushing Jag away with the side of her head, causing him to fall on his backside on the grass, before returning to Dracyrus’s petting.

  “And he wants to join your nethelell,” Vyserous added. “Would she have him?”

  “I…I don’t know.”

  “Well, the decision is ultimately up to her, I suppose, but if you bring your feelings about him into consideration, perhaps she won’t allow him in. She is Human, not Dracon. She does not need every mate that wants her. My kind…the more mates a female has, the more likely she is to conceive.”

  Light did not need a lesson on Dracon procreation, but it did explain why Dracyrus was more than fine with Faith already having multiple loving partners. Still, letting Dracyrus join them, it just felt odd. Like it shouldn’t happen. A part of Light still viewed him as the enemy, and would until all of this was over.

  “My mother has six males devoted to her, a respectable number,” Vyserous went on, oblivious to the way he made Light uncomfortable.

  “Are you part of a nethel…” Light trailed off, not sure why he was asking. He didn’t care, but maybe some advice would be good. Advice about Dracyrus, about being one man among many, not letting the jealousy take over.

  A strange thing to ask a man he just met, but it was too late to take it back now.

  Vyserous corrected him, “A nethelell? No. Not yet. I have not found a female I could see myself with.” His golden gaze studied Light, landing on his long, pointed ears. “I am surprised you are with the Harbinger. Don’t all Elves loath Humans for their statures and their smells?”

  They funneled onto Fang’s back. Vyserous was the first, while Dracyrus was the last. They each positioned themselves between the spikes on her back, holding onto her spikes as she ran and jumped, flapping her wings as she brought them into the air.

  All the while, Light wondered: why was it everyone always brought that up? Were Elves truly so stereotypical? Light had been, in the beginning, but it felt like so long ago. Another lifetime. His life before Faith. Faith had been a whirlwind, changing him and burrowing into his heart before he even knew what she was doing, and when he realized it, it was too late. He loved her.

  He loved her, and he needed her back, regardless of whatever would happen between her and Dracyrus.

  Chapter Twelve

  The Lionheart lived in a gigantic tree. In the root system or something. It was a giant tree that stood alone in a field of red and blue flowers, its roots sticking out of the ground and creating numerous more homes for other Fae. He lived alone, Foresh had said, but Fae always gravitated toward him. He was not their leader; the Fae had no king and queen anymore, but he was the closest thing to it.

  He was the Lionheart. The brave one. The one whom everyone went to for answers.

  Faith nearly killed her neck by bending it backward to study the tall tree. It was as tall and as wide as the buildings in her drea
m had been, a hollowed-out portion in its base, where she assumed they’d enter to meet with him.

  Other Fae sat on blankets, laughing and talking without a care in the world. They did stop and stare as Faith, Swift and Foresh passed them, but they quickly picked their conversations back up. Faith was pretty sure she’d never seen a hippie fest, but this looked like one, with the bare feet and the loose, colorful clothes, not to mention hairstyles that looked the opposite of good. But to each his or her own, she supposed.

  Foresh was rattling off a long list of what not to do while in front of Hart, and Faith tried to listen, but it was difficult. This whole area, miles and miles of tree roots, was so different from the desolate village that was New Hope. She still thought of those poor Fae every time she closed her eyes. None of them deserved an end like that. If she could help them, she gladly would, but she knew the time for helping them was long passed. Who knew how long they’d been frozen like that? If there was ever any coming back from being turned to stone?

  “Do you understand everything I said?” Foresh asked.

  Faith nodded, wanting to get it over with. Meet Hart, have him get her memories back, and then finally look at things with a sane, fully-intact mind. “Yes, I understand.” Sort of a lie, since she drifted off there for a bit, but it was what it was. She didn’t want to put off this meeting any longer.

  They entered the archway beneath the giant, skyscraper-sized tree. The Eldertree, her Fae escorts called it. She was about to ask how they were going to see inside it, or under it, but as they walked in, nothing but packed-down dirt below their feet, she spotted vines growing along the walls made of bark. Vines with blooming, glowing flowers, illuminating every area they grew in.

  Huh. Fancy.

  They took her through the root system, stopping her before a door of sorts. It looked like it was made of wood, but Faith could not see any place the wood might’ve been carved from. This place was just full of magic, wasn’t it?

  “Wait here,” Swift said, glancing at Foresh. They both pushed inside the door, its hinges creaking as they went, leaving her alone in the hallway.

  Though they were underground, the air was clean and clear, not at all like the air in New Hope. The vines probably helped with that, just like their light made it possible for people to live beneath it. The Eldertree was the only tree in the nearby area, a giant in a field of flowers. Everything about this place was beautiful, and it distracted Faith for only a moment before her nerves got to her again.

  Everything had been leading up to this. It felt momentous, something she should be nervous about. Faith bit her lower lip, fiddling with her fingers, thinking: at least I have real clothes on. No important meetings while I’m butt-ass naked.

  Swift and Foresh exited the room within five minutes. It was Foresh who said, “He invites you in. Good luck, and remember all I said.”

  Faith nodded, wishing she would’ve listened to what he said. It was probably super important stuff, like what not to say and do while in front of Hart. Fae were tricksters, but they could be cruel just like any other race. Heaving a sigh, she went into the room. The wooden door clicked shut behind her.

  A long room, at least twenty feet deep, full of blankets on the dirt floor and pillows, arranged everywhere. Bright and vibrant colors, lit by the vines growing along the root walls. He was not their king, but he sat on a throne anyway. A throne of roots, twisted and thick to form a chair with a back and armrests. The Lionheart was…not at all who she expected.

  A man.

  The Lionheart was just a man.

  A Fae man, judging by his ears and the vibrancy of his green eyes, but a man nonetheless. The way the others had talked about him, Faith had started to believe he was some kind of god. He had bright red hair, almost an auburn color. He wore a leather ensemble, stitched with green. On his chest sat a giant claw…that glowed purple?

  Aether.

  It was funny the things Faith knew, even though she had no memories.

  “Come closer,” he said, beckoning her forth. She’d stopped ten feet in front of him. “Let me see you.”

  Faith froze when she stood directly before him, stunned when he got to his feet and circled her like some kind of vulture. He wasn’t old; if anything, he looked just as flawless as most Fae did. But they lived longer, didn’t they? Or at least she thought so; this man radiated a knowledge that only came with age.

  “Foresh and Swift were right. There is magic holding your memories at bay,” Hart spoke, stopping before me. He stood at my height, his eyes far too deep a green to be Human. “Strong, old magic. You are fortunate I am not bound to the same laws other Fae are.” A smile grew on his lips. “Are you ready to remember it all, Faith?”

  “You’ll help me remember, just like that?” She’d been expecting some kind of bargain, something. A deal with him in exchange for her memories. But she’d take them now if he was willing to do it.

  “Just like that,” he echoed, lifting his hands to the sides of her head. “Close your eyes.”

  Her eyelids fluttered shut, and she waited.

  A wave of energy washed over her, pushing into her body, tingling every nerve and muscle. She breathed in deeply, thousands of images flying into her head at once. Hart withdrew his hands from her head before she could inhale and open her eyes, and when she did, she knew exactly who she was staring at.

  Her memories, everything she’d seen, all that she’d learned in the Well of Memories. She’d never seen him before, but she recognized his green eyes. They were her eyes, the exact same shade, a bit too brilliant to be Human, but she’d never paid much attention to it before, because she never believed herself to be anything but.

  “You” was all her tongue could formulate.

  “Hello, daughter,” Hart spoke with a slow-growing smile. “It is good to finally meet you.”

  She had a lot of things to say to him. One including how the hell he could’ve made a deal with the last Harbinger—her grandfather—about opening the portals between worlds. The price had been her mother, and Faith herself was a result of their union. Her mother had kept things from her, but she couldn’t blame her for it. If Faith was in her place, she never would’ve told her, too.

  “You,” Faith found her voice, feeling the sudden urge to hit him, “you have a lot of explaining to do.” At her sides, she clenched her fists.

  “And I will tell you everything,” Hart spoke with a single nod. “But in time. You’ve had a long journey, and surely you’re exhausted. Why don’t you rest for a while? I will be here when you wake.”

  Faith wanted to argue with him, to demand answers from him right this very second, but he was right. She’d been traveling for ages with Swift and Foresh; she could do with a bit of rest. “Fine,” she said. “But it better be good.”

  Hart grinned. His smile reminded her of her own, and she had to look away before he said, “Always. Foresh will show you to your room.” With a flourish, he twirled, sitting back in his thrones of roots. “I look forward to talking later.” With his words, the claw on his chest started to glow more intensely.

  At least this aether was solid; in gaseous form, it was toxic. To say she was comfortable around aether would be a lie, but Faith squared her shoulders, stared him in the eyes, and said, “Good, because I have a lot of questions for you.” Without waiting for him to respond, she stormed out, finding Foresh alone in the hall.

  “Where’s Swift?”

  “Gone to sample the local flavor,” Foresh spoke with a shrug. Clearly, he and Swift loved to get in each other’s pants, but also anyone else’s. Fae were frisky little things, weren’t they? “Have your memory back, I assume?”

  Faith pursed her lips. “Yes. Thank you for not taking advantage of me.” She looked down at her wrists, at her Victi. Even though she hadn’t remembered what they were, she’d discovered how to bring them forth. If Foresh and Swift had tried anything with her, surely she would’ve held her own somehow.

  And that said nothing of the
Ageless Blade on her back, which she still had no idea how to summon.

  “Oh, come on, now. Swift tried.” Foresh chuckled, and together they roamed the hall, heading down stairs that were made of twisted, gnarled roots. The air should’ve gotten colder the further down they went, but it didn’t. This place teemed with magic, and Faith felt strangely at home, as if she was meant to be here.

  Which was ridiculous. There were things she had to do. Lots of things. Like fighting the Dread King—oh, wait a moment. They had an epiphany together in the Well, didn’t they? If they weren’t going to fight each other, what were they going to do?

  “You knew,” Faith accused.

  “I did, but it was not my place to tell you,” he said. “Especially with your memories gone.”

  “My father,” she said with a sigh, her shoulders rising and falling once. The clothes she wore were comfortable, but they weren’t really her style. She missed her leather jacket, the thick cuffs she used to wear around her wrists to hide her illegally-gotten Victi. “I’m part Fae.”

  Foresh gave her a small smile. “You are, but since your mother was Human, you took more after them. Such is the way with Fae mating. Always taking after the mother, regardless of the race. You did get his eyes, though.”

  Yes, she most certainly did. Faith fell into silence as they went down a hall of rooms, each one with a real door. She wanted to ask how, but this entire place practically breathed aether and magic. And Fae could be naturalists, like Rose.

  Rose—who still had the cloak. Faith had to get that cloak back. She would remain here until she got it back and then…then what? She had no idea how to get back to the guys. Maybe she could ask Foresh to portal them back, but there was no telling if the guys remained at the Malus tribe. Why would they, when she’d gone missing without a trace?

  Oh, wait a minute. Faith recalled Dracyrus in her dreams and her visions, which she’d tried to ignore. They were coming for her. Theoretically, all she had to do was sit on her ass, remain in place, and they’d reach her eventually.