Blade of the Fae

by R. A. Rock

  “Okay then. When you open one portal, the other end automatically opens in the location you’re thinking of. And in whatever direction you’re imagining.”

  “As in, the way you’re looking at the scene in your mind is the way you will emerge from the portal?”

  “Exactly. One blade opens the portal, and the other closes it. You must close the portal because it’s a tear in the fabric of reality. And if you don’t, bad things will happen.”

  “There is a rune on each blade to indicate whether it’s for opening or closing. You must open and close the portals with the correct blade. And if you don’t—”

  “Bad things will happen. I get it.”

  “Good,” Finn said, giving a firm nod and then turning his head to look at Tessa. “I have a feeling you’re the only reason that I’m still alive.”

  Tessa gaped at him. “How did you know?”

  Finn grimaced, rubbing his head as if it hurt. “I know Izzie. He’s a good man, but he’s nearing the end of his time. I had a feeling he would be careful to take enough to satisfy the guy he sells the sheaths for because…”

  “Because the man extracts whatever’s missing from Isadore if he doesn’t take enough?”

  “Right,” Finn said, his expression going serious. “How do you know that?”

  Tessa felt rather desolate. “Your friend is a coward and almost killed you. It was lucky that he had some Elixir in the house and that I was quick thinking enough to put some on the top of your head. Otherwise, you would be dead.”

  Finn nodded. “I know.”

  “You know?” Tessa asked, startled out of her dismal mood. “How do you know?”

  “I had a feeling Izzie wouldn’t be as careful or as worried about my life as he was about his. That’s one of the reasons I brought you.”

  Tessa’s mouth dropped open.

  “That’s why…” She stopped. “You knew he might almost kill you?”

  “Yes,” Finn said, stopping before the portal.

  “Then why did you do it?” Tessa asked, not understanding at all.

  Finn gave a shrug. “You needed a sheath. And I gave my word. That’s all.”

  But when he said it, his eyes said something more.

  “That’s all?” Tessa asked.

  “That’s all, Captain of the Guard,” Finn said, giving her his trademark saucy grin. “What? Did you think I was falling for you?”

  He stepped through the portal, and Tessa heard his laugh as though from underwater. She rolled her eyes and stepped through after him.

  The man was insufferable.

  She gave a small smile.

  And she was so glad he was still alive to tease her.

  Chapter 15

  A week had passed since the night they had emerged from Perdira’s Mire, got the Otherworld sheath from Izzie and both nearly died doing so. They were still at the inn. And Finn was getting seriously worried.

  He opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling of the room where they were staying, not wanting to get up out of the warm covers.

  There was only one bed, and they had to share it. He would have found it difficult to sleep beside Tessa, considering how beautiful and sexy she was—if it hadn’t been for the fact that she had been in a deep depression since Perdira’s Mire and he was far more worried about her than he was attracted to her.

  He sighed, getting up and going to the window. The morning sun was bright and cheerful—a stark contrast to the heavy, dark gloom that reigned within. They had been here a week, and Tessa was showing no signs of ever wanting to get out of bed, which would have been fine with him if they’d actually been having any fun in bed. But they weren’t.

  And her sad act was both worrisome and annoying. The morning sun shone in the window and illuminated her face where she lay, eyes wide open, staring at nothing.

  “We have to leave eventually,” he said with no preamble.

  She didn’t answer.

  “I’m supposed to train you.”

  No comment.

  The silence in the room felt weighted as every word he sent out tumbled and crashed to the floor, where it was then smothered by the quiet sadness.

  “We have to be back at the Dark Court in less than three months’ time.”

  Tessa rolled away from the window, turning her back toward Finn.

  “Tessa…”

  “Leave me alone,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

  Shadows take her, but her melancholy after the incident in Perdira’s Mire was troubling. Finn didn’t know what to do about it. He had tried leaving her alone, but she had only sunk deeper into her sorrow. He had tried forcing her to get up and move around, maybe leave this place, but she had become fiercely angry and fought him off, giving him a black eye. Then she had subsided into apathy again, as soon as he’d left her alone.

  He didn’t know what else to do.

  She would barely be able to master the blades in the amount of time they had left to train. They really didn’t have time to waste. And if they didn’t return to the Dark Court or they returned but Tessa hadn’t done what the queen asked for? Well, no doubt there would be Shadows to pay. And by that, he meant they both would die.

  He didn’t want to die.

  Not before he got his life sorted out.

  It was bad enough when he had expected to die far off in the future because of his vow, but now that he knew he would probably die in three months, he could hardly function, the dread making his limbs like stone.

  And to have to die because someone else didn’t do something seemed the height of unfairness. He would die because Tessa wouldn’t get up and use the blades. It wasn’t right.

  He had to figure out a way to help her out of this black despair. If he didn’t—Shadows and Chasm—the Dark Queen was going to kill him and Tessa, too.

  He got up, dressed, and went for a walk, wandering through the village. Cozy cottages snuggled together along either side of the dirt street. White curtains hung at the windows, and colorful flowers overflowed out of the window boxes. Smoke came from the chimneys as the Fae inside stoked their fires to cook lunch. There was a well in the middle of the tidy town square, with the bakery, the weaver, and the blacksmith making up three sides. The fourth side of the square contained an open space where the market set up once a week. This village was typical of most in Ahlenerra.

  He hoped the fresh air might clear his head enough that he could think of a solution.

  He thought about what he knew about Tessa and tried to remember something that might be useful. What did he know about her? She was the Captain of the Guard for the Dark Court, and she had been for hundreds of years.

  What else?

  She was alone, having no family and, according to her, only the one friend in the Dark Court—Nataliana, the flirty Elf.

  Yeah, not useful.

  What else?

  Before the swamp, she had been a fierce and courageous warrior. The feats of the Captain of the Guard had been legendary. He had heard of her long before he had actually met her. In fact, the tales of her prowess in battle had been so larger than life that he had never thought he would ever meet her. In his mind, she had been almost mythological in nature.

  Now that she had made the deal with Perdira, she would never get the thing she wanted most in the world. The thought struck him like a punch in the face.

  Stars and Shadows. No doubt, that was what was making her so disinterested in life.

  What if he could never have the one thing he wanted?

  He stared down at the road and then turned abruptly and headed back to the inn.

  “Tessa,” Finn said as he threw open the door. “I want to know what you gave up to get the blades.”

  He strode into the room and sat down on the bed next to her inert form. She didn’t respond. The room was airless and stale smelling.

  He rolled her over on her back, and she lay there, eyes squeezed tightly. Pretending to be sleeping?

  “Tessa, what di
d you give up?”

  “Go away, Finn. Leave me alone. You need to run. Find an angel and flee this realm. Maybe the queen won’t catch you. There’s nothing else to do. Because I am never going to leave this bed. And if you stay, then she will kill you.”

  “If you stay, she’ll kill you,” he pointed out.

  “I hope so,” Tessa said, closing her eyes.

  Finn stared down at her. Her pretty face was wan and pale, her chestnut brown hair tangled. There was a listlessness to her body that hadn’t been there before. In the time that he’d known her, she’d always seemed so strong.

  “Tell me, Tess, please. What did you give up?”

  “Going home,” she said, her voice weak. “My heart’s desire was to go home, and now I never can.”

  “Shadows take me,” he whispered, his shoulders drooping. He got up and went to the window, throwing it open and gulping deep breaths of pine-scented air.

  Oh, this is bad. Finn suddenly understood why she had been in bed for a week. He stared at the forest, not seeing it. His dearest hope was to see his family again. He couldn’t imagine if that hope were taken away. What would he have to live for?

  “Where was home?” he asked, wondering if there was some way around the deal she had made with Perdira but knowing in his heart that there was not. She had traded her heart’s desire for the blades. And Perdira didn’t give refunds.

  “I can’t tell you,” she said, her voice a tiny bit louder. “It would endanger the people there.”

  He could understand that, too.

  For a long time, he sat in silence, wracking his brain for how to help her and coming up with nothing. Finally, he laid down on the bed. She was facing away from him, and he snuggled up to her, putting his arm around her waist and pulling her tightly to his chest.

  They had never really touched. Not this closely. Only held hands. And that one kiss. But she was so sad. And now he understood it. But he could do nothing about it. That was doing something to his heart that he couldn’t ignore.

  “I wish I could help,” he whispered.

  She had lost her home. Forever.

  And there was nothing he could do to get it back for her.

  So he lay there, just holding her, knowing there was absolutely nothing he could do except be there.

  Even though he knew that his mere presence would never be enough to fill the void losing her heart’s desire had left.

  Tessa tensed for a moment when Finn curled up around her. Then she relaxed. Who cared what he did? Everything in her life for the past hundred years had been focused on getting home. And now she could never go home.

  So really, who cared what Finn did?

  Nothing anyone did would change things.

  She lay there, the ache in her chest still as strong as before, but something was different. She felt Finn’s chest against her back, warm and strong. His arm wrapped around her as if he would protect her. And he didn’t try to cheer her up. He didn’t try to force her to do anything. He had stopped trying to change the situation and was simply there for her.

  And somehow, that changed everything.

  She drew in a deep slow breath, focusing on the magic she could sense radiating off of him. Since the Fae were magical beings, there was always some magical evaporation coming off of a person. If you tuned in, you could sense it. And feeling the magic coming off of him helped her turn inward and sense her own magic. The magic of the Stars that flowed through her and all around her.

  Becoming aware of her nature as Starlight helped. She still felt the ache. The pain of the loss was still there. But behind it, in the stillness, was Starlight—her true essence that could not be harmed, that had never lost anything, and that still shone as brightly as ever.

  And Finn had given that to her.

  She closed her eyes, basking in the feeling. The pain was no longer everything she was. Around the pain, there was Starlight. And she thought that maybe, just maybe, she might get past this. She might go on to live again. She might someday care about something again.

  “You know what you should do?” Finn asked, his voice sounding sleepy and relaxed as he spoke into her hair.

  She gave a slight shrug.

  “You should get the Scroll. And end the Severance.”

  Tessa tensed.

  “Grandfather said it was possible.”

  She frowned. What an absurd idea.

  “I’m not joking, Tess,” he whispered. “You could do it. If anyone could, it’s you.”

  She couldn’t speak, only shook her head at the ridiculous idea.

  “Imagine a world without the Severance. Imagine being able to access all of Ahlenerra. No Chasm. No Hundred Years’ Ball being the only time we can see the rest of our people.”

  He sighed.

  It would be wonderful, she realized. It would be—

  That was when it hit her.

  If the Severance was ended, then there would be no Seelie and Unseelie lands. That would mean that each and every Faerie would be able to go wherever they liked.

  Her dearest wish had been to go home to the Light Court and Perdira had taken that away. But if there was no Light and Dark court, then she could go home because that would get around the wording of the spell. Or so she thought.

  It was a loophole.

  It was a sliver of hope.

  It was her only chance to ever have what she wanted most.

  And that was enough.

  In that moment, Tessa felt the decision rising in her. She would get the Scroll, she would end the Severance, and she would get what she wanted most. At that thought, a tiny spark of Starlight pierced through the dark cloud that had engulfed her for the past week.

  At this rate, she might one day decide to go on living. And if she was going to keep on living, she was going to need to eat.

  “I’m kind of hungry, Finn,” she said, and his arm tightened around her.

  “Hungry?” He sounded so startled that she smiled. She hadn’t eaten anything for a week.

  “Right,” he said, getting up. “I’ll ask the innkeeper’s wife for some food. Is there anything you want?”

  “Whatever they have will be fine,” Tessa said, and her stomach growled. “Thanks.”

  “I’ll be right back,” he said, rushing from the room.

  He returned five minutes later with a cup of broth, some soft buns, and sauerkraut. Finn set the tray on the small table and then moved it next to the bed so Tessa could reach it. She tried to sit up, but when Finn saw she was struggling, he came and helped her. Then he sat down beside her and handed her the cup of broth.

  “The innkeeper’s wife says that when you haven’t eaten for so long, you must start lightly,” he informed her. “She said broth and buns first, and then some sauerkraut to restart your stomach.”

  Tessa nodded, taking a sip of broth. It was salty and tasted like nothing so much as liquid meat. She drank it down quickly, and then Finn gave her one of the crusty rolls. She tore off pieces, chewing carefully before swallowing. When that was all gone, he gave her the small bowl of sauerkraut and a fork. She ate that up as well and then sighed, putting her hand on her stomach, which felt very full after not having eaten anything for a week.

  “Better?” Finn asked, a relieved expression on his face.

  “Better,” she said, a ghost of a smile making an appearance. “Thank you.”

  “If I’d known all you needed was a cuddle, I’d have climbed into bed with you a long time ago,” he said with a wink, his characteristic humor coming out again.

  She knew now it was a cover to hide deeper feelings that he didn’t want to face. He was a good man. She knew that now, too. Finn was someone she could trust. With her life.

  In fact, she already had.

  “When can we start the training?” Tessa asked.

  “As soon as you’re ready,” Finn said, a broad grin spreading across his handsome face. He started listing off everything he would need to do, ticking them off on his fingers. “We’ll n
eed supplies, and new horses. And a better map. I am not getting lost again.”

  “I’m ready to start training.”

  Tessa attempted to stand, a determined look on her face, and felt her legs buckle under her. Finn caught her around the waist with a laugh and set her gently back on the bed.

  “How about we let you get your strength back first?”

  Chapter 16

  It was mid-morning a few weeks later, and Tessa and Finn were training in a glade in the forest. Sweat dripped off his forehead, and Finn wiped it away. Taking advantage of his momentary lapse in focus, Tessa lunged at him, nearly slashing his jugular.

  He danced backward, his heart pounding. That had been a close one.

  Even with the spelled leather sheaths—that kept the blades from cutting either Tessa or Finn while they trained—the weapons could still do some serious damage, either bruising or breaking things in his body. And Finn liked his body unbruised and unbroken, if at all possible.

  He spun his own blades, flipping them over and around his hands in a halo of danger and destruction. Tessa kept her distance, eyeing his blades warily.

  Both Tessa’s and his blades were, as mentioned, safely encased in tight leather sheaths that allowed her to learn how to use them without slashing her wrists twelve times a day or killing Finn by accident.

  She had gotten a little cocky about a week into her training and asked to try without the sheaths. Finn hadn’t thought it was a good idea, but she had insisted. When she’d seen her own blood flowing freely from her wrists, she had put the sheaths back on and shut up about wanting to train without them.

  There was a certain amount of danger involved in any kind of training, but there was no need to bleed more than was necessary. Everyone used a wooden sword when they began. Finn knew that when Tessa had enough skill and had stopped hitting herself with the blades a large percentage of the time, she would feel confident enough to try taking off the sheaths. Then she would be ready. Not sooner.

  “You think you’re pretty good, don’t you?” she asked, watching him with no envy—only a dry, technical, observing sort of expression.