“Come with me,” he blurted out. “I meant what I said before. We could do great things together, and forgive me for saying it, but I don’t think your people have treated you in the way you deserve.” Without thinking too much about it, he tucked a loose lock of copper hair behind her ear and tilted her chin to look at her face in the light trickling out from the walled city.
Malin let him touch her. All around them, Fae rebels were in disarray, shouting to each other to take cover, to pull back, asking for orders and receiving no answer. Another bomb flew out from the city and landed near the first, but there were fewer screams this time, as most of the rebels had fled deeper into the forest.
For this moment, they were alone.
Malin glanced around them. “You fired decoy smoke so the balls would hit outside of our camp instead of right in the middle of it.”
Ace gestured at her forearm. “And you didn’t gut me while I was sleeping. I’d say we’re even.”
She bit her lip. “Ace—”
“Come with me,” he said again. “In my realm you would never be treated as a slave.”
“But I’d still be a slave,” she said quietly.
“I’d protect you. I’d make it all right.”
“It’s never all right when one person owns another. I don’t think you want that anyway.”
He bowed his head. He wasn’t ready to admit that was true, because it meant letting her go.
She leaned in and brushed her lips against Ace’s. “My people need me. And yours need you.”
“Your people tied you to a tree, Malin.”
She pointed the axe at the dead man at their feet. “He did that. My brother, Ekan. He led the rebels here. He is the one who sent me to find a way to open the gates to the Seven Realms.”
“Well, I guess he wasn’t completely stupid,” Ace said ruefully. “He certainly sent the best person for that job.”
She smiled. “I thought you might appreciate my handiwork.”
“A bit too much, I’m afraid. I should be very angry with you and instead I’m enchanted.”
Her brown eyes glittered, and she reached out and took his callused hands in her own. “I think I know how you feel.”
He grunted. “This is going to hurt, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” she said. “But we’ll forget.”
“Doubtful.”
“Inevitable.”
He smiled, and so did she. Then he put his arms around her and laid his mouth on hers and savored a few moments of perfect if-only.
“I’m going to lead the rebels back to the Outlands,” she said when he raised his head. “With Ekan gone, they’ll look to me.”
“We’re in trouble, then,” Ace said with a laugh.
“I am more interested in helping my people live well than asking them to die for a lost cause.”
Ace sighed. He had never questioned the right and wrong of vampire rule in Inferna. It hadn’t been their fault that they were cursed and cast into this land. They’d had to make a place for their people as their numbers grew. They’d had to find a way to survive, and he hadn’t even once been sorry for it. Right now, though, it was painful, knowing that freedom came at this cost.
Reluctantly, Ace stepped away from Malin. “I have to go back,” he said. “It won’t be good if you’re seen with the enemy.”
She nodded. “I’ll take it from here. But will you stop the rain of iron, just long enough for us to escape?”
I’ll do more than that, he thought. “Yes,” he said aloud. Then he smiled sadly. “Live well, Malin.”
She smiled back. “Live well, Prince Ace. In another life …”
“Another life,” he said. “Fair enough.”
He gritted his teeth, spun around, and headed back toward the city, leaving a piece of his heart behind.
“Ace,” Fen called as he marched up the stone steps to Ace’s chamber. “Are you in here?”
Ace sat up abruptly and wiped pretend sleep from his eyes. “What?”
Fen groaned. “Your trebuchet. It malfunctioned. Where have you been?”
“Right here. Must have fallen asleep. What happened?” He swung his feet to the floor and looked up at his brother, who was still wearing his cloak and leather armor.
“We had gone to assess the damage to the rebel encampment. Our aim wasn’t great—there were very few Fae casualties. Most rebels were long gone, but there may be others hiding in the woods. When we returned to the trebuchet, we couldn’t get it started again.”
Ace rubbed the hair on the back of his head. “I’ll check it out. I’d hate to leave you with a weapon that isn’t reliable It could be dangerous.”
“Mm,” said Fen, possibly thinking about what had happened to Riladin. “It was spectacular while it lasted, though. We may not have killed many, but the damage …”
Ace held up his hand. “You don’t have to tell me.”
Fen’s eyes narrowed. “One of the dead hadn’t been hit with any barbs, though. He looked suspiciously like he’d had his throat ripped out.”
Ace tucked his fingers beneath his thighs, hoping he’d adequately scrubbed the blood from beneath his nails. “Odd.”
“Yes,” said Fen, staring at him steadily. “Extremely odd.” His fingers closed around the hilt of his sword. “I am taking a band of soldiers and riding south to ensure there are no more rebel invaders on the way, and to recover the bodies of the gate guards we will likely find at the boundary. From now on, I’m posting archers on that wall to keep anything like this from happening again. How soon can you have the gates closed?”
“Shouldn’t take long. All I need is a magnet and a few other tools.” By now, Malin should be safely in the Outlands. He didn’t know much about her, but he knew enough to believe she had led her people far from the danger, possibly to fight another day, and definitely to live well and strong until that time. “I can do it anytime you send the signal.”
“I’ll set a sentinel here to watch for it, then.” Fen smirked. “You can take another nap while you wait, if you wish.” He turned and strode from the room.
Ace flopped backward on the bed and stared at the wooden beams of the ceiling. His hand slipped into his pocket and pulled out the valve closures he’d removed from the trebuchet engine while Fen and his soldiers scouted outside the wall. “Another failed invention,” he said wearily. “I suppose I’ll have to make sure of it.” Some things shouldn’t ever get invented in the first place, and he’d decided the steam-powered trebuchet was one of them.
He closed his eyes and thought about the last few days, of the tragedy of his Keeper, of his last, poignant journey to Earth, of Malin and how she was gone now, how he’d most likely never see her again. “I’m not sure which is worse,” he muttered to himself. “To crave a memory and lose it, or to harbor a memory I dearly wish I could forget … and can’t.”
The Prince of Sloth let out a deep breath. It would all sort itself out with time, and as he waited, he would wander, and dream, and invent, and do his best to live well, just as he had promised.
Afterword
Karpov Kinrade is the pen name for the husband and wife writing duo of USA TODAY bestselling, award-winning authors Lux Karpov-Kinrade and Dmytry Karpov-Kinrade.
Together, they write fantasy and science fiction novels and screenplays, make music and direct movies.
Look for more from Karpov Kinrade in Vampire Girl, Of Dreams and Dragons, The Nightfall Chronicles and The Forbidden Trilogy. If you’re looking for their suspense and romance titles, you’ll now find those under Alex Lux.
They live with their three mostly teens who share a genius for all things creative, and six cats who think they rule the world (spoiler, they do.)
Find them online at KarpovKinrade.com
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Sarah Fine was born on the West Coast, raised in the Midwest, and is now firmly entrenched on the East Coast. When she's not writing, she's working as a child psychologist. No, she is not psychoanalyzing you right now.
Website: http://sarahfinebooks.com/
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